Free Cast Off by KC Burn Page B

of the bartenders made a beeline for them, and from the pinched look on his face, Rick didn’t think they’d just run out of maraschino cherries. “Looks like you gotta work. I’ll look around, catch up with you later.”
    He smacked Jon on the ass, a satisfying thwack with leather-amplified sound. Jon squeaked, glaring at him before putting on his “I’m respectable and in charge” face and slipping through the ring of observers that had surrounded them.
    “Show’s over, kids. Come back at midnight.” Rick shooed them away, even the few that took a step toward him, lustful promises on their faces. As beautiful as they were, he’d spent the last week thinking far too often about Ian. The man knew his way around a dick. Several times he considered asking Davy for Ian’s number, but even if Ian wasn’t a keeper, he didn’t think getting involved with Kurt’s brother would do wonders for the group dynamic. Kurt fit in with their friends, despite his jockish tendencies, but if something went wrong between him and Ian, Rick didn’t want to fuck up his friendships. He had no family and never intended to have a relationship. His friends were it.
    Rick slipped away from the group who’d been hoping he and Jon were going to strip and go at it right there on Anaconda’s floor. If he were going to screw someone tonight, he’d rather not know they were picturing him and Jon together.
    On the other side of the dance floor, he leaned against the wall to finish his beer. There was a time when he’d head out onto the dance floor with a drink, but he wasn’t going to add a potential safety liability to Jon’s new investment. The view from this side was just as good, but irritatingly he found himself searching for dark hair and light eyes. There was no call for that sort of emotional nonsense.
    He made room for a couple seeking the shadows beside him. In his peripheral vision, he noticed one of them drop to his knees and in moments, even over the deafening din of music and shouted conversation, the guy’s moans were audible. In fact, Rick could easily pretend he heard a wet sucking, and his pants constricted. Enough of this wallowing. He’d never had a problem finding someone to get him off and tonight he’d prove that to himself.
    After downing the last of his beer, he set it on a nearby ledge, whipped off his shirt, and dove back into the undulating throng.
     
     
    R ICK smiled up at a large red-haired guy. Muscular, sexy, and judging by the hard length pushing against his stomach, hung. Some guys didn’t like the gingers, but Rick was an equal opportunity player. He rubbed up against the guy, but wasn’t quite tempted to leave the dance floor to find a secluded area.
    He let the music take him and soon ended up dancing with another sexy guy, this one a slim Asian guy with bleached blond hair. Again, he enjoyed dancing, teasing, touching, but despite the obvious invitation, he didn’t allow himself to be led off. This time, the guy shrugged and danced away, leaving Rick on his own. He really must be getting old, because neither of those guys, as cute as they were, looked nearly old enough to be drinking. Orgasm with a side of dirty old man? No, thank you. Definitely not what he wanted out of the evening. Hell, he might have to booty call one of his ex–fuck buddies in the hopes they wanted a simple, no-strings night.
    Closing his eyes, he danced, trying to decide if he should give in and call Oscar. No, that would be a mistake. Worse than calling Davy to get Ian’s number. He ought to just consider the evening a favor for a friend and leave it at that. Go home, let his right hand provide satisfaction, and get some sleep.
    The song changed and he paused for a moment. Before he could turn to head toward the door, a pair of strong hands slid around his waist, pulling him flush against warm, shirtless skin. The man behind him, though taller, was closer to Rick’s height than most of the other guys who’d