Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
But he couldn’t let it happen again. He couldn’t give in.
He had to remain strong.
“Yo, Boy Scout.”
Connelly turned at the nickname and came face to face with a couple of uniforms he’d worked with a few times. Dread tightened his chest. How much had they seen? His palms were instantly sweaty so he rubbed them on his slacks and did his best to look casual.
“Figgins. Redding. What’s up?”
“We heard Raoul complaining about this place enough we decided to check it out for ourselves,” Redding said, glancing behind Connelly to where Azariah was still standing. “Where’s he at?”
“Baby doctor.” Connelly could feel Azariah’s presence like fucking coals burning the flesh at his back.
“Oh yeah?” Way too much curiosity filled those two little words.
“Listen, I gotta go. My sister is waiting for me.” He didn’t look at Azariah, didn’t even acknowledge him.
“Again? I’m starting to think everything your partner says about you is true, Boy Scout. What is it this time?” Figgins asked.
His laugh was forced. “Hot water heater.”
“You know they have plumbers for that shit, right?”
“Don’t you start too, Figgins.” With an awkward wave, Connelly headed to his car. He didn’t dare look back, even though he could feel Azariah’s penetrating gaze watching him leave.
Chapter Three
That night, Z let the strong beat of Kesha’s “Take It Off” roll over him until he reached a sort of trance and forgot everything that had happened during the day. It was strong enough to drown out his financial worries and even the intense kiss he’d shared with a not-so-straight detective. His body moved to the music like it was part of him. Like it had no choice. Some of that oblivion was because of Tam’s stunning choreography, but most was because Z lived to dance.
Being onstage was a form of worship for him. His way of giving thanks, even though he rarely had much to be thankful for. It made his soul purr.
The lights swirled and tumbled over the stage and the crowd, in sync with the song, as the Sassy Boyz entertained their adoring audience. Z’s skin tingled, like the air around them was electrified and it drove him to work harder, push further, be stronger.
He was wearing his black-on-black chevron leggings with Louboutin boots that had metal detailing and made his legs look longer than hell. The routine was one of their dirtier ones, so he’d forgone any top in favor of a feather collar. His hands were covered with fingerless leather biker gloves that gave the whole look his signature punk attitude. They were black too, of course.
He ran his hands up his leg during the bridge, from heel to hip, and imagined it was a stranger’s hand. Stirring his own arousal in an effort to ignite the audience’s. He rotated his hips and flipped his hair, the whole time sinking into the heavy bass of the song. Ansel whipped around and stalked toward him. Z turned just as the music shifted and grabbed his friend around the waist. Their body rolls ground their groins together provocatively while their hands explored one another’s tense, sweat-sheened abs. The maneuver sparked a roar from the crowd that lit Z up from the inside. He tipped his head back and invited his friend to make it a good show.
Right on cue, Ansel licked up the column of his throat.
Wolf whistles and screams for more rose over the pounding music. Yeah, this crowd was primed and ready. Tonight was going to be a good night.
Kesha’s voice started to fade while Z and the others moved toward the back of the stage to prepare for the final act. Swaying his hips from side to side, Z grooved to the new, slower song and felt the audience hold their breath.
As soon as Ariana sang “Get on Your Knees,” the four of them sank to the floor as a group and started their sensual crawl forward. Their backs undulated, asses popping and heads tilting seductively. As always, Z singled out one person in the crowd. This entire song was performed mostly on the floor and it was so much sexier if they danced for a specific person.
The eye contact made his heart pump and his limbs fill with heat.
He bit his lip as he caressed himself from nipples to knees and was delighted when the guy he’d chosen licked his lip hungrily.
No, he hadn’t lost his touch. If he tried hard enough, he could probably make that guy come right from the stage. So why did he feel like something was missing?
He pushed the uncertainty from his mind and focused on doing his best. Whatever was wrong with him didn’t matter—the sexier he danced, the more green he’d be taking home.
So he fell into the song, into Ariana’s soft voice and Nicki’s strong rap. By the end, he was lying on his back, hips lifting up and down with the beat, knowing he’d done his job. Knowing that as soon as he went out to mingle he’d have plenty of offers.