GRIND
Remember
your bodies crushing together—remember your first grind?
Tonight Raider craved someone to assuage
the ache in his loins and Blaze St. John certainly fit the bill.
Raider Ridgeway saw the gorgeous man
enter the bar and figured what the hell. One night with the stranger would help
him unwind before he left for a scheduled shoot in Las Vegas. It had been long
enough, and as his assistant so eloquently put it—he needed to get laid. Five
months of non-stop, globe-hopping photo shoots and whacking off had left him
with a sore dick as well as raw nerves.
Normally, he’d spend a couple hours at
the bar, occasionally he would talk to someone getting to know a little about
him, but then he left alone. That wasn’t the case tonight. Raider had something
special in mind, something he hadn’t done in months that didn’t involve leaving
the parking lot unless he wanted to.
What Raider didn’t count on after
leaving Blaze standing alone in the dark lot was his inability to forget the
man and it went from bad to worse when he looked up from a hand of poker and
spied the pretty white man watching him from across the room.
Free – PICTURE THAT under the Free Read tab.
Excerpt:
Reaching the lobby he headed straight for
the jewelry store where he found Davis supervising the clean up and packing of
Ridgeway Corporation supplies.
“Raider, Matthew insists you join him and a
guest for dinner after you wrap up tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, where’s B. S. John?”
“You mean Blaze?” His assistant squinted.
“Did you need something?”
“Is he here, or not, goddamn it?” Heads
swiveled in their direction.
“Keep your voice down.” Davis peered
around. “You’re not in the streets of God knows where, Raider.” He feigned
straightening his tie. “What is the matter?”
Sweeping hands over his face, he breathed
deeply, and then expelled the air. “I need to find him.”
“Need?”
So as not to upset Davis’ insistence on
decorum, Raider whispered, which still came out in a low growl. “Stop gaping
like a jackass and answer me.”
“He changed and left with a friend of
Matthew’s from the gold refining company.”
“Muscular build, dark hair?”
“Yes, handsome older man. I believe Blaze
said they were going to have a late lunch in his room.”
“Thanks.” Raider pivoted and raced back out
the door heading for the concierge desk where, once he arrived, he demanded
Blaze’s room number.
“Sir, if you wait one moment, we’ll call
Mr. St. John.”
“Give me the number.”
“That’s against policy, if you wait right
here…”
“Fuck you, where’s Terry?” He had played
poker with the head concierge for years.
The employee picked up the phone and spoke
quietly into the mouthpiece before telling Raider, “He’ll be right out, sir.”
Jesusfuckingchrist, you’d think he tried to
gain entrance to the vaults at Fort Knox.
“Ridgeway. Missed you the last time you
graced us with your presence.”
“Terry, I need the room number of one of my
models.”
“No problem, who?”
“Blaze St. John… Wait, B. S. John is
probably how it’s reserved.”
Terry logged onto the computer and within
seconds, Raider had what he wanted. “I owe you one.”
“I’ll catch you at the poker tables
tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Raider yelled over
his shoulder on the way to the nearest elevator. They all went to the
twenty-fourth floor and it didn’t take long to find the room he looked for.
Catching his breath, he knocked briskly. Nothing. Bang! Bang! Still nothing.
Pounding the door, he yelled, “Blaze?” A couple walked by and peered at him
strangely. “What are you looking at?” Fear lit their eyes and they scurried
away, bringing Raider to his senses. What
am I doing?
Leaning against the door, he sucked drafts
of air into his lungs. Highly unlikely a friend of Matthew’s would be stupid
enough to do something crazy. Raider walked away, laughing nervously. “Like I
just did.” Okay, he’d slipped off the deep end for a minute and thank God, no
one who knew him witnessed his decent into crazy land.
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