The men at JR’s were eager to make his acquaintance, and he accepted them all. It was his own little game, a kind of foreplay of sorts, zeroing in and going after what he wanted. Dragging out the process of narrowing down the person he intended to have sex with was a thrill he’d always enjoyed. Mitch loved the hunt, probably why he chose his current profession.
He danced across the floor, bodies pressed against him, and he loved the hands running across his chest, down along his ass, and over his dick. Yeah, he loved that the most. It built anticipation as he grew hard with the intentional caresses and tightened grips.
The only problem? The newly enlightened civilian culture had many gay men growing a conscience. Mitch remembered a time when any of these guys would be ripe for the picking. Sex in the restrooms had been a way of life. It wasn’t so much that way anymore. He’d pick one, and only one, for the night. Pity, because there were some good-looking guys rubbing all over him.
About thirty minutes later, he needed a break. The double shot and beer combo was wearing off. He needed a refresher. Mitch wiggled his way from the middle of the dance floor, flashing those dimples as he caught the attention of each man he passed by.
He was so genuinely happy to be here and not stuck in his own head like he had been since meeting Colt and Jace. It was only then he remembered they should be there by now. Mitch did a quick search and found them dancing on the outside of the crowd. They were wrapped around each other, moving slower than the beat of the music, completely lost in each other. They were sexy hot and made for one another. The slight pang of jealousy at the closeness they shared didn’t go unnoticed.
Perhaps someday he could find what they had, but for right now—Mitch cut his eyes back to the dance floor—he couldn’t be bothered when there were so many other options.
The bar was unfortunately stacked three deep. Mitch snaked his way around to the side, finding a hole and sliding in. He raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. He yelled out his order, got a nod, and pulled out another twenty as he waited. He scanned the room before turning back to the bartender who was being pulled in too many different directions. This was going to take a while. It wasn’t until he glanced toward the bank of tables to his left that he spotted him. The guy sat in the darkened corner of the bar, with a baseball cap pulled down low on his head, and for some reason, the way he wore the hat caught Mitch’s attention.
Mitch went from giving him an over-the-shoulder look, to turning right toward him. Why hadn’t he noticed him before? Mr. Ball Cap was all cowboy’d up, in little better than work boots, snug fitting worn blue jeans, and a white T-shirt with some kind of design. The T-shirt was tightly stretched across a pretty impressive chest. The bulk in his arms showed, causing Mitch’s jeans to tighten that much more.
Yeah, he wouldn’t mind getting to know this guy.
The guy sat there at a high-top table, peering around Mitch, looking toward the dance floor, as if he was trying to remain unseen. Mitch watched as the wallflower’s long fingers circled the beer bottle in front of him and brought it to his lips.
Fuck! Those lips were a temptation he needed to sample. Mitch was spellbound. He couldn’t take his eyes off the guy.
When Mr. Ball Cap tilted his head back to down his beer, Mitch actually groaned out loud as he watched his Adam’s apple work up and down with every swallow. Mitch’s dick took too much notice of the move, and he had to reach down to adjust himself. From his actions, Mitch surmised the guy must be newly out, or completely uncomfortable with his sexuality.
How long had it been since Mitch was right there, doing that same thing? Well that answer was clear. Never! He started exploring his sexuality at a very young age, and if the truth be told, he explored it every opportunity he got. He was who he was…always. And his family had always accepted him.
The longer he sat ogling this guy, the more he wanted him. Mitch reached over, knocking his baseball cap back, not off, but up on the top of his head.
“I can’t see you if you’re hiding under that cap,” Mitch yelled, flashing the guy his best smile. The bartender placed his drinks on the bar, and after a minute, snatched the twenty from his hand with a loud huff.
Mitch didn’t give a shit what the bartender did. He was captivated by a shockingly handsome, rugged face. One he had been completely unprepared to see.
The guy was a little older than Mitch had originally thought, and motherfucking gorgeous. Shit, those full lips and strong jaw covered with a day’s worth of stubble had Mitch imagining all kinds of assorted lewd behavior. Brilliant bright blue eyes framed with thick lashes shot up to his. Panic flashed in their depths. The guy lifted his cap, ran his hand over light sandy blond hair and placed the hat back on his head. When he did, Mitch noticed a tattoo on his upper chest peeking out from under the cotton material of his shirt, and he wanted to see more. Mitch had always had a thing for big blonds with blue eyes and ink. Had he just died and gone to heaven?
“I can’t decide if I wanna be seen,” the guy finally said and looked down. He was no longer making eye contact, and it was hard to tell in this lighting, but Mitch could have sworn he saw a blush. A blush? How long had it been since he had seen one of those? Mitch pulled the hat completely off and lifted the guy’s face by placing his finger under his chin.