Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True (4 page)

I’m only slightly jealous that you wished for a stud…and poof…the fucker appears out of thin air.” She huffed.

Angel knew she hadn’t forgotten what he’d just ranted about in his office.
Great.
His naturally tanned face felt hot with embarrassment.

“See if he wants to go with us to the diner after closing.” She winked at him.

“Okay.” He beamed.
I love her so much.

He headed to the elevator at the back of the club. When he got out on the second floor, McSteamy was leaning against the door of his office enticingly massaging his bulging cock. “Mmmm, I thought you were gonna make me fly solo.” He moaned.

“Now, why the hell would I do that? You have got to be one of the hottest men I’ve seen on this oceanfront in a while.” Angel grasped the man’s forearm in a tight grip and pulled him into him. Now that they weren’t on the crowded dance floor Angel asked, “What’s your name, handsome?”

“John Meyers. I’m here with some buddies I work with in Richmond.”

He quickly reversed Angel’s grip on his arm and spun him around. He was now holding on to Angel. He pressed him into the door and ground his crotch into Angel’s ass, while reaching a determined hand around to secure a snug hold on his nuts.

Angle rocked his ass back into that hard steel and thought,
Damn, when
was the last time I’ve been fucked?
He must have liked the idea because it made his hole clinch involuntarily.

“Mmmm…fuck…let’s go inside…now,” Angel groaned. He tried to focus on retrieving his key, while his balls received the most delicious assault he’d ever felt. The door slammed open and they fell inside, both frantically yanking pieces of clothing off the other. Desperate grunts filled the space as Angel was maneuvered to his desk.
Holy fuck! This stal ion is gonna mount me
right here on my damn desk.
He was firmly pressed against the edge of the solid oak desk when Angel felt John aggressively grab a handful of his hair and attempt to direct his head where he wanted it on his body… further south
.

“Cool it, baby…you want me to suck your cock, fine,” Angel purred.

Then his eyebrows drew in as he growled. “But let go of my fucking hair!”

McSteamy cocked his head to one side and smirked at Angel like he was the cat that got the canary. He lightened the grip on his hair but didn’t release it. He pressed down harder on Angel’s body with his own and flipped him in one quick motion so that Angel was bent over his desk, ass up.
What the fuck?

Angel bristled.

His potential date was starting to get a little out of control. Angel did say he wanted someone more manly than the fairies he’d been screwing on a regular basis, but he wasn’t gonna be any alpha-man’s bitch either. That just wasn’t in his nature. Angel needed a man that would appreciate his masculinity while taking care of his needs at the same time.

“My, my, you’re a little spitfire ain’t cha boy? You want me to let go…huh?” John teased. He gripped Angel’s hair tighter and pulled so hard that he yanked Angel’s entire upper body up off the desk, slamming him into a solid chest. Angel let out a hard, mean grunt while bucking back to get released from the punishing grip.

Angel was no lightweight and he knew how to handle himself, but he didn’t want to go there with John just yet. Although this man was older than him, it didn’t mean Angel was looking for a daddy. Angel did not do BDSM, and he wasn’t looking or needing to be dominated.
I’m definitely no one’s boy.

John was dislodged by Angel’s bucking, and both his eyebrows shot up as his mouth twisted into a wicked grin. “Someone’s being a bad boy. I thought you were gonna let me touch you, honey. What is it? Are my touches too much for you boy, so you’re not gonna be my bitch tonight?”

Angel held his facial expression tight.
What the hel ? Your bitch, you stupid
bastard. Can’t you see the look on my face right now, that I’m not the least bit turned on
with this bul shit
.

“Fine man, have it your way.” Angel sneered. “Get the fuck out! Out of my office and the fuck out of my club!”

John advanced on Angel again. “No way. You are mine tonight, pretty man, I haven’t seen anyone like you either. Now you promised me a touch and I want it.”

When John reached out to grab Angel this time, he was met with a hard right hook to his midsection. He doubled over and stumbled back, coughing, trying to catch his breath.

“Dammit…shit.” He coughed hard before groaning. “Why the hell did you do that? I wasn’t going to fucking hit you—you asshole,” John huffed out in between breaths.

“You had to be an ass. I don’t want to play your weak-assed dom and sub game. Now, if I have to tell you to get out again, my right jab will be the least of your worries.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” John turned toward the door that they had fallen through moments ago in total passion. He looked back once more with

a pained expression on his face and whined pathetically. “Just let me smell your hair one more time, please?”

“Hell no—you crazy fuck, now get the hell out!” Angel roared.

John righted the rest of his clothes while murmuring under his breath.

“Fucking long-haired cock-teasing shit.”

Angel just shook his head as the man left his office looking like someone had just stolen his dog. Angel smoothed down his shirt and went to the glass, pulling back the heavy curtain to watch John descend to the lower level.

Angel pushed the small button on the earpiece still snug in his ear to turn it back on. He spoke to the security guard that was always posted at the bottom of his stairs.

“Denny, make sure that asshole coming down leaves the premises and be sure he understands he’s never to return.”

“You got it, boss. Are you okay up there? Do you need me to send Jazz up?”

“No, Denny, but thanks, everything’s cool. I’m going to get a breath of fresh air on my balcony and then I’ll go speak to her. Just watch him until he’s out the door.”

“I’m on it,” Denny stated calmly.

Oh God, what the hel do I have to do to find a normal man?
Angel groaned. He continued to watch out the window as Denny placed a large hand on John’s shoulder and put his mouth close to his ear, surely telling the man Angel’s wishes as he aggressively propelled him forward. Angel stood staring, completely dumbfounded at how bad the almost hookup had turned out to be.

John was fifteen feet from the front door when he turned back to look up at Angel who was still staring down at him. Angel flicked him off
.
John plastered on a sinister smirk, and before his security guard could react, John swung his elbow back into the thin protective glass over the fire alarm shattering it, and yanked the lever down.

“Son of a bitch!” Angel yelled, as the loud, piercing shrill of the alarm rang out through the entire club. Angel watched the people on the dance floor stare, wide-eyed and not quite knowing what to do. Then, as if they’d

all received the same mental message at the same exact time they all took off running in different directions.

Angel watched in horror as eight hundred partiers began running and trampling people, trying to get out of the various exits. Some were going for the front door, some going for the side doors. Hundreds came running down the stairs trying to get away from the false fire.
Goddammit, they don’t even smel
any smoke.

Angel stayed in his office coordinating with his head of security. The guards were frantically trying to assist smaller people that were being run over. Angel picked up his desk phone and called 911 trying to inform them that this was a false alarm. He knew it was already too late. His alarm automatically called for a dispatch of fire engines whenever triggered. Three minutes later, Angel heard the sirens.
Damn that was fast
. He guessed if you had almost one thousand people in a building and a fire alarm went off, then it’s safe to assume the city’s going to send in the cavalry.

“Angel, everyone is out of the club now, security is making a third sweep of all areas including the restrooms. I already printed a picture of the asshole that pulled the alarm and gave it to the police that are securing the perimeter.

If they spot him they’ll hold him.” His chief security officer had his finger pressed into his earpiece as he looked up at Angel still watching from his office window.

“Uhhhh,” Angel groaned. “I can’t believe he did that shit, all because I wouldn’t call him Master.” Angel was beyond disgusted, but Bass chuckled.

This was his attempt at a more mature hook-up and it still back-fired…literally.
A celibate lifestyle may be in order from now on
.

“I feel you, boss, we were definitely killing it tonight, but you need to come down and give a statement to the fireman while I try to calm the crowd down out front.”

“On my way. Thanks, Bass.”

Chapter Four

Max heard the female computer-generated voice come over the PA system, announcing an alarm was triggered at one of the clubs on the strip.

He jumped off his bunk, still a little light-headed from his release. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Five minutes to midnight. He raced to get on his uniform as he listened to his Captain bark out orders to the other fighters.

Max silently prayed it wasn’t a real fire. He knew the clubs on the beach were packed with tourists, some of them holding hundreds of people.

“Strong! Are you waiting on a fucking engraved invitation? Get your ass out here now!” his Captain yelled for all to hear.

Max emerged from his bunk room in his blue uniform shirt with the fireman’s crest on his chest. In bold lettering on the back was “Virginia Beach Fire Department.” His dark blue polyester uniform pants fit nicely over his firm ass. He raced to the bay area that housed their rigs and the lockers that held each of their turnout gear.

“What’s the code?” Max asked the incident commander as he suited up next to him.

“Code Silver, but, we’re treating it as Gold because of the capacity held by this particular establishment.”

Max knew all the codes like he knew his alphabet. This code meant that an alarm was tripped but there is no report of a fire or smoke.
Great, a false
alarm. One of the little punk club-goers thought it was funny to pul a fire alarm and
watch everyone scatter. Fucking wasting my goddamn time
. Max hated those types of calls. It required him to have to suit up and race to a scene for no apparent reason except to shut off an alarm and take a statement. Max hopped in the side seat of the rig as the bay doors opened. Both rigs emerged slowly into traffic, sirens and lights blaring so loud he could barely hear himself think.

“Where are we headed?” Max shouted to his second lieutenant.

“Club Blue Moon.” The deep voice yelled back. “The largest, most-popular fucking club down there.” The lieutenant rolled his blue eyes, and Max saw the concern etched in his rugged face. The many years of disastrous, fatal fires were etched in every crevice.

Wonderful…a thousand people in the middle of the street.
Max had never been to the poplar nightclub he saw advertised everywhere in the city, but he’d heard it was super nice. Luna told him it was a gay club, but his brother told him it wasn’t. Max remembered his brother’s comments on the night sensation.

“Everyone and their grandmother go there, Max. I fucking love it.

Definitely some of the hottest ass in town can be found in there,” Ryker bragged. His older brother Ryker was gay and out, so Max figured it probably wasn’t a club he would want to frequent.

Max braced himself on the overhead oh-shit bar when the rig turned right onto the strip and maneuvered around the tourists jaywalking across the street. It was a goddamn headache trying to get around the egotistical motorists that cruised the strip in their freshly shined pussy-mobiles at a whopping fifteen miles per hour.

Honk, honk, honk…

Zander leaned on the horn as they slowly made their way to Eighteenth Street. The men could already see the massive crowd gathered behind a row of police cruisers a couple of streets up. Max knew this was not going to be the last time they’d be dispatched to the strip. They were going to be flooded with fake fire alarm calls, alcohol poisoned parties, someone caught in the undercurrents while swimming without lifeguards on duty, jellyfish stings, bar brawls, car accidents, you name it—they were going to see it all this weekend.

Because it’s the fucking Fourth of July and people love a reason to get out of their stale
daily routines, get shit-faced, and live on the edge for a day or two—especial y since most of
them had a four day weekend
.

Finally, they made it to the club entrance on Sixteenth Street in a total of twelve minutes. The police officers tried to fend back the large crowd that had no doubt been forced out of the club before they finished getting their groove on. Crowd control was not the fire department’s responsibility and Max couldn’t be happier for that fact right now. He jumped down from his seat and waited for the incident commander to come from the second rig. He quickly dispatched the other fighters to fully gear up with face masks, oxygen tanks, and solid steel pikes. Regardless, if they were told it was a false pull or not, they didn’t take chances. Nine bulky fighters made determined steps into

the club, completely ignoring the three beefy security guards at the front door.
Damn those are some huge fuckers
, Max thought.

“Max, the captain told me that you will be acting Sergeant on this one,”

his commander informed him. He couldn’t help but smile as his best friend Pierce nudged him in the side—his way of saying congratulations on the promotion. Max nodded in affirmation at the Commander and told Pierce he’d wait for his call before he tried to locate the club owner. Pierce was the second lieutenant and responsible for overseeing the other fighter’s actions while inside, and reported directly to the incident commander when the scene was secured.