Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True

 

Blue Moon Too Good to be True Copyright © November 2013, A. E. Via Cover art by Fiona Jayde © November 2013

 

Amira Press

Charlotte, NC 28227

www.amirapress.com

ISBN: 978-1-627620-27-7

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

Dedication

To my loving family, I hope I’ve made you proud. To my husband and children, thank you so much for understanding the many long nights.

To the potential authors who aren’t sure if they can do it…don’t think.

Just write.

A very special acknowledgment to my mother. Thank you so much…for everything. You’ve always been there, no matter what. You have inspired me more than you’ll ever realize.

 

Property of the Unseen Unheard Library

Blue Moon Too Good To Be True

A. E. Via

PART ONE

Chapter One

Angel was making the rounds in his club and talking business with his bar manager, Sam, when a short, blue-eyed blond kept accidentally bumping into him.
Yeah, right.
Angel shot him a sideways glance as the small man waved at him shyly. Angel simply continued his conversation, ignoring the childish flirtation. The pretty boy’s eyes cast downward and his smile turned south when Angel didn’t return the gesture. As Angel leaned on the bar reviewing the purchase order for the upcoming weekend he felt another nudge come from his left side, almost dislodging the pen from his hand.

Angel whipped out his arm and caught the flirt on his round biceps with a firm, controlling grip. Angel didn’t say anything for a couple seconds taking in the appearance of the petite beauty. Wide crystal blue eyes and a supple, pouty mouth shone back at him.

Angel had a nonnegotiable age restriction to enter his club. No one under twenty-five allowed, and his three bouncers at the door fully enforced that policy.

“How old are you, beautiful?” Angel asked.

“How old do you want me to be?” he purred back.

Angel rolled his eyes at the old, common line. At this point Angel was uncertain if he was annoyed, mad, or interested.

“I’m twenty-seven,” he finally answered.

Angel shook his head but still didn’t feel like being bothered. He blamed it on too many nameless lays in the last couple years. Anytime Angel wanted to talk about getting to know his bed partner they ran faster than Usain Bolt.

In a rough voice Angel crowded into the man’s personal space and asked, “Is there something you want, baby?”

“Umm, my name is….J-Jason. I just wanted to say hi.” The young man stuttered while staring directly into Angel’s intense gaze.

Angel watched with his dark chocolate eyes as the pretty man began to unravel in front of him. Jason’s breathing accelerated and tiny beads of sweat

popped up on his smooth forehead. Angel could see the bulge forming in the front of Jason’s low-riding denim jeans. The T-shirt that he wore was two sizes too small. On the front in bold red letters was the phrase “I’m Sexy and I Know It.”

Angel leaned in closer, letting the stubble on his jaw brush across the little man’s smooth cheek. He put his lips on Jason’s outer ear and whispered seductively. “Looks like you want to say more than just hi, Jason.” The bulge in Jason’s pants was now more prominent than before and the goose bumps popping up on Jason’s thin arms were hard to miss.

“Actually, hell yeah there’s more I want to say. Why don’t you come out back and let me tell you in private,” Jason stated boldly. He looked like he could probably blow his load right there on the bar if he could get even a second of friction on his dick. Angel sighed and loosened his grip on the small man’s arm.

“You wanna get a drink or something?” Angel asked. Jason looked very pretty, and he didn’t appear drunk, so Angel thought he may be able to have a conversation with him before they fucked…might make it a little more enjoyable if Jason gave him something more to like than just his looks. But Jason was already pulling Angel toward the back door of his club that opened to a semidark alley.

Angel halted Jason’s determined strides. “You wanna go up to my office?” Angel pointed in the opposite direction. “There’s a couch…we can talk a minute.”

“No, I’m good. Wow! You are so fucking gorgeous.” Jason stared at him.

“Thanks,” Angel replied, with a slight smile.

“My friends are gonna be so jealous.”

Angel frowned at Jason’s last remark, as he was pulled into the darkness of the dank alley. It was clear this was all Jason wanted from him…a quick fuck and bragging rights.

Angel quickly scanned the alley before pushing the young man against the rough brick wall.
If this is what he wants…fine.
He made quick work of his zipper, while his date of the hour shimmied his pants down over his perky ass.

 

“I’m all ready for you, daddy.” The boy moaned while pulling a lubed plug out of his hole. Angel saw the boy turn up one side of his shiny mouth and lick his tongue out seductively. He wasn’t impressed and he thought the move to be a little whorish…but whatever.

Fucking great…another boy wanting a daddy,
Angel thought.

“I’m not your daddy,” Angel growled. “Now turn around and keep both hands on the wall.” He rolled on a condom and glided into his ass on one smooth stroke, still being careful not to hurt the smaller man.

Jason reached back and gripped a handful of Angel’s hair and groaned.

“Come on. Fuck me hard! Show me what you got, playboy.”

“Don’t pull my hair. I’m not your bitch.” Angel’s deep baritone voice grew strained with annoyance. After only a few pumps Angel was already bored…and disgusted. He rolled his eyes when Jason leaned his head back for a kiss. He dodged the glossy lips and let him kiss his neck instead. All the yelling the he was doing was really starting to irritate the hell out of him. The random hookups were just not satisfying anymore…honestly, they never had been.

Angel wanted to hurry and get them both off so he could go on with his evening, and judging from the way Jason was grunting and crying out it wouldn’t be much longer. Angel draped his six-foot frame completely over the little man’s back, hooking one muscled, tattooed arm across a lithe chest.

His other hand had a firm grip on the man’s bony hip. Angel commenced to reaming him to within an inch of his life, which was obviously what Jason wanted because he started yelling and jacking himself so fast Angel thought the man might need a wrist brace when he was finished.

Angel thrust in one final time and ground his pelvis against Jason’s tight bubble ass. “Come now,” Angel growled in his ear. He felt the familiar sensation in his own balls while his date came all over the brick wall.

Jason yelled to the heavens and convulsed erratically in his arms. His ass squeezed Angel’s dick in a viselike grip that made him grit his teeth to keep from yelling himself.

“Fuuuck.” Angel groaned quietly as he filled the condom. “Damn you are fucking tight.”

 

Jason smiled wide at the compliment as he took a few more seconds to catch his breath. He pushed his spent cock back into his skinny jeans and turned to look at Angel. “So you think you might want to come back to my place? I don’t think I’m finished with you. I have a roommate but she’s gone until after the holiday.” The pretty man blinked up at Angel expectantly like he’d secured his escort for the evening by the performance he’d just given.

“Look Jason, I think you’re cute and the night is young. How about we go for a ride up the coast?” Angel smiled.
Maybe this night won’t be a total bust.

We could still talk.

Jason wouldn’t look at Angel in the eye. “Uhhh, sure. Just let me tell my friends that I’m leaving. I’ll be right back.” Jason took off so fast he didn’t even zip his fly.

“Fuck me,” Angel whispered silently into the darkness.
You already let
him…asshole.
Angel winced and dropped his head at his foolishness. He’d done it again. He let himself be used. Months ago, he swore to himself that he wasn’t going to be a quick lay anymore. But Angel was starved for real affection.

Angel had sat at the bar in his club one night after closing and talked to his best friend, Sam, about his lack of relationships. Sam told him. “Angel, you’re so fucking exotic, and successful, that guys are a little intimidated by you. I’m not going to lie to you. I hear things when I’m behind this bar.

People see you walking around the club and they say that you probably have boyfriends and girlfriends all over the city. They think you’re a player, simply because of how you look. I’m sorry, buddy. And, as your best friend, it pisses me the fuck off. They just don’t know you like we do. They don’t know how fucking smart you are, how considerate and humble you always are. They don’t know that you are home alone every night after work, or if you even go out somewhere you go alone or with me. But you’ll find someone Angel…when you least expect it.”

Angel brought his mind back to the present. It’d been twenty minutes…Jason wasn’t coming back. Angel refused to go back in after him.

He’d take his wounded pride and tuck tail.

 

Angel swiped at the brick dust on his black Levis and smoothed his favorite black-and-gray Maroon 5 T-shirt over his studded belt. Usually Angel liked to dress a little nicer when he came to his club, but it was a Thursday night and he’d had no intentions of being there. Sam swore that the bar order had to be approved and signed tonight or else they would come up short-stocked for the weekend. That would be disastrous since the Fourth of July weekend was one of the biggest weekends for the Virginia Beach oceanfront.

He was the owner of one of the hottest clubs on the strip—some might say gay club, but all types came and partied together
.
Fourth of July weekend brought in tourists from all over the east coast, not just his regular locals that packed the club every week.

Angel was looking forward to opening up the third level of Blue Moon again to kick off the busy tourist season. It was half-canopied, with the other half open to the moonlight, stars, and gorgeous view of the ocean. The salty breeze caressed the patrons as they danced to the latest rock and pop music of today. They partook of premium liquor from his fully stocked bars, served by his well-trained barkeeps.

Angel’s club was the number-one nightlife attraction in the Hampton Roads area and he knew it. He’d competed for three years with two other clubs that were both within a four-block radius of his own and he’d put them both out of business. Angel made sure his club was designed by one of the best interior decorators money could buy. He didn’t skimp on the amenities that made a club hot. He had the best sound systems, state-of-the-art DJ

equipment, immaculate VIP rooms, a full courteous staff, and most importantly, an effective security team so his customers didn’t have to worry about their safety like at some of the other rowdy clubs on the beach.

Angel put his back against the brick and propped one foot up as he pulled out a Marlboro and lit it with his custom made Zippo. The stainless-steel lighter had his club emblem on the front and the name etched on the other side. He lit the cigarette, took a long, hard drag and let the smoke linger in his lungs before exhaling slowly. He studied the silver lighter carefully,

staring at the name “Blue Moon,” while the flip side showed the emblem that he had designed himself.

The moon was, in his opinion, the perfect shade of Brandeis blue, and it had two silver spear-tipped arrows piercing and crisscrossing at the moon’s center. The very same emblem was covering his left pectoral. The moon tattooed on his chest had two shades of blue that outlined and defined the surface, making it appear cratered on his smooth chest. The silver arrows piercing the center seemed to shimmer against his olive skin in the right lighting. His tattoo artist had truly outdone himself with that one. The cigarette ended much too quickly as he ground the butt into the concrete with his black leather boot.

He considered lighting another but decided against it and headed back to the end of the alley where he kept his beloved. Angel unlocked the sleek black helmet and slid it over his head. He gently adjusted his thick braided ponytail that now reached the curve of his ass as he straddled his new Harley Davidson Dyna Low Rider. The recently polished chrome shined in the gleam of the moonlight. The black body glistened like it had just come off the showroom floor. The custom paint job had his club emblem on the body. It was just enough not to overshadow the pure beauty that was the bike alone. He put the key in the ignition and revved the engine a couple times, relishing the vibration against his groin. He kicked back the side stand and sped up the alley toward the main road. He turned onto Atlantic Avenue and looked left to his club’s front entrance. Angel put up a lazy two-finger salute, his usual symbol for good-bye, to the triple threat at his double doors.

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