by Aiden Bates
Heaven’s Ballroom
A Contemporary Mpreg Romane Bundle
Aiden Bates
Heaven’s Ballroom
A Contemporary Mpreg Romance Bundle
Aiden Bates
© 2019
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
Contents
Book 1
His Innocent Angel
1. Riley
2. Max
3. Riley
4. Max
5. Riley
6. Max
7. Riley
8. Max
9. Riley
10. Max
11. Riley
12. Max
13. Riley
14. Max
15. Riley
16. Max
17. Riley
18. Max
19. Riley
Epilogue
Book 2
His Broken Angel
1. Nathan
2. Damon
3. Nathan
4. Damon
5. Nathan
6. Damon
7. Nathan
8. Damon
9. Nathan
10. Damon
11. Nathan
12. Damon
13. Nathan
14. Damon
15. Nathan
16. Damon
17. Nathan
18. Damon
19. Nathan
Epilogue
Book 3
Betting On His Angel
1. Kieran
2. Duncan
3. Kieran
4. Duncan
5. Kieran
6. Duncan
7. Kieran
8. Duncan
9. Kieran
10. Duncan
11. Kieran
12. Duncan
13. Kieran
14. Duncan
15. Kieran
16. Duncan
17. Kieran
18. Duncan
19. Kieran
Epilogue
Book 4
His Undercover Angel
1. Ace
2. Noah
3. Ace
4. Noah
5. Ace
6. Noah
7. Ace
8. Noah
9. Ace
10. Noah
11. Ace
12. Noah
13. Ace
14. Noah
15. Ace
16. Noah
17. Ace
18. Noah
19. Ace
Epilogue
Book 5
His Second Chance Angel
1. Alton
2. Eliot
3. Alton
4. Eliot
5. Alton
6. Eliot
7. Alton
8. Eliot
9. Alton
10. Eliot
11. Alton
12. Eliot
13. Alton
14. Eliot
15. Alton
16. Eliot
17. Alton
18. Eliot
19. Alton
Epilogue
Book 6
Saving His Angel
1. Blake
2. Anders
3. Blake
4. Anders
5. Blake
6. Anders
7. Blake
8. Anders
9. Blake
10. Anders
11. Blake
12. Anders
13. Blake
14. Anders
15. Blake
16. Anders
17. Blake
18. Anders
19. Blake
Epilogue
Book 1
His Innocent Angel
Heaven’s Ballroom: Book 1
Aiden Bates
© 2019
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
1
Riley
Every night before work, it was always the same thing: shower, shave, a handful of baby oil rubbed onto every hardened ridge of my well-muscled body and a spritz of Tom Ford’s Fucking Fabulous on one side of my neck. It would’ve been easy, really—if I wasn’t checking my phone the whole time, waiting for it to light up with Kevin’s name.
“He text you back yet, Ry?” Still beaded with water from his own shower, Damon came up behind me clad only in a micro-towel tucked precariously around his waist. He peered over my shoulder at my phone where it rested on the vanity, then cringed as he came to the same conclusion I’d been trying to avoid reaching all day. “Ouch. Guess not.”
“What’re we looking at?” The shrill violins of the opening chords to Britney Spears’ Toxic flooded into the dressing room as Noah came in from the front of the house. He draped one arm around Damon’s shoulders and another around mine as his icy blue gaze followed ours. When he saw what we were staring at, he groaned. “Ugh. Seriously, Riley? Not this Kevin shit again.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I protested, shrugging Noah’s arm away. “I’m allowed to worry about him.”
“Yeah, well, start worrying less about where he’s at and more about where his dick is.” Noah shook his head and grabbed the baby oil off of the vanity to reapply. “That man is cheating on you, buddy.”
“Be nice,” Damon warned Noah.
Noah only rolled his eyes. “I am being nice. If someone was cheating on me and I had my head too far up my ass to realize it, I’d want someone to grab me by my shoulders and yank me back to reality. Wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Damon ran his fingers through his hair. “But I’d at least like them to use some proverbial lube.”
Noah rubbed the baby oil into his chest with one hand and squirted a little my way with the other. “How’s this for lube, Riley? If I were you, I’d dump his ass. Like, yesterday. And I wouldn’t be nice about it, either.”
“He’s not cheating,” I insisted, glancing back down at my phone again. The screen only showed the time—seven-fifty. Ten minutes until show time. “If he was with someone else, why wouldn’t he just break up with me?”
“First off,” Noah began. “He is with someone else. Remember when Anders ran into him at that coffee shop feeding macaroons to that busboy from The Backdoor?”
“And we did bump into him at Calvin Klein with that Prada-ed out little socialite,” Damon added gently.
“Second off,” Noah continued, “Remember what he told you when you asked him if he wanted you to stop stripping?”
I sighed. “Yeah—‘Honey, you grind that slutty dick of yours on whoever you like…’”
“‘Just make sure you bring home the bacon at the end of the night,’” Damon and Noah said in unison, turning Kevin’s words back on me like a loaded gun in a way that made my stomach turn.
“Thirdly,” Noah finished, “You’re a hot piece of ass who’s always hanging around his cellphone waiting for that dick to call. You’re a sure thing, Riley. Are you really so surprised that he’d keep you in his back pocket while he’s unzipping his fly up front?”
“You gotta admit, Riley…” Damon reached across me to grab the bottle of oil from Noah. “The facts do kind of pile up.”
“But I love him,” I said—but hearing my own words, I realized how uncertain I sounded about them. I’d always imagined that falling in love would feel a lot like getting hit with a brick. One moment, you’re totally fine; the next, you’re walking around all dizzy and goo-goo eyed. But being with Kevin was more like the moment before impact than anything. I always felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for the knock in the head—but the knock never came, and neither did his texts.
“Okay, tiger,” Noah said with a sarcastic laugh. “Whatever you say. Just get your wings on and stop checking your phone, okay? We’re on in five.”
“Big crowd tonight?” Damon asked.
“Big, hot, and ready to party. House is completely full of horny Alphas—emphasis on cum.” Noah shot us a triumphant grin as he pressed through the door out front again, heavy bass pouring past him from the speakers outside. “Same as every night!”
Same as every night. It was one of the perks of working at Heaven’s. Our owner, Foster Collins, had been a stripper himself back before he started the club, so he knew exactly what a pain in the ass it was to work a bad shift. Other strip clubs had slow nights, rough nights, even nights where there was nothing to do but sit around and stare at the door—but Heaven’s Ballroom was the best club in the city, which meant that every night was packed. And every night, I gave it my all. Whether Kevin was messaging me back or not.
I gave one final rub of oil onto my chest then turned to the pair of wings resting on the floor against my locker. They were approximately one-quarter of my costume for the first number of the evening. The other three pieces—a pair of shiny gold breakaway pants, a matching G-string and a halo clipped into my soft brown hair—I’d put on before oiling up. I slid my arms through the leather harness and tightened it across my chest, highlighting the lines of my muscles that much better. Everything about my job at the Ballroom was about appearances—whether it was hitting the gym twice a day to keep up my hardened physique or just pretending like Noah’s words hadn’t cut me nearly as deep as they really had.
It was the best thing about being a stripper, really. Backstage, I was Riley Landon—soft, a little self-conscious, careful and concerned. Out in the spotlight, though, I was Riley Angel—flirtatious, unbridled, confident and free. I left my worries backstage in my locker with the rest of my clothes. The second that I put my wings on, I could feel it—that sexy sense of conviction that I was the hottest man in any room. It was a high that I could ride all night—but not, unfortunately, one that I’d figured out how to take home with me yet.
“C’mere,” Damon beckoned as I tightened the final strap of my harness. The wings were heavy, but compared to worrying about where Kevin was sticking his dick presently, they were a welcome weight. “Final touches, then let’s get out there.”
I closed my eyes as Damon slid a fingertip dusted in gold beneath my eyebrows and across my cheekbones. Foster didn’t put us in full stage makeup like the poor Omegas who danced at the Backdoor—but for the opening number, a little extra shimmer never hurt. I’d do a few lap dances with it on, then scrub it off before I did my cabana boy routine. The opening line was my favorite part, mostly because it was the only part of the show that got any real laughs: “Anybody in here want to get lei-d?”
“Thanks,” I told Damon, checking out my final look in the mirror. Now with glimmering brow bones and exquisitely highlighted cheeks, Damon had made even my boring brown eyes really pop for the night—which didn’t stop my voice from coming off a little gruffer than it should have as I expressed my gratitude for it.
“Ry…” Damon sighed. “About what Noah and I were saying earlier…”
We both glanced down at my phone again.
“It’s fine.” Impulsively, I grabbed it and flipped it face down. Neither of us needed to look at the screen to know that Kevin still hadn’t texted. “I know you guys just want the best for me.”
“We really do. And…I mean, look, Ry, I know I’m not the smartest guy on the block—”
“Don’t say that.” I cuffed him gently on the jaw with my knuckles. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
“Then will you maybe just consider…y’know. Humoring us for a second?”
I closed my eyes. Humoring Damon and Noah right now was the last thing I wanted to do. If I humored them, I had to consider the possibility that they might be right. That Kevin might be out with someone else right now while I was preparing to work the shift that would cover the rest of the rent payment on our tiny little two-bedroom apartment for the month.
“You don’t cheat on someone you love, Damon. And Kevin loves me. I’m sure of it,” I said finally. I had to believe it—considering Kevin’s radio silence, it was the only thing that would get me through the night. “Let’s go—curtain call, right?”
Damon nodded, and we headed up onto the stage. A thick black curtain threaded with LED lights twinkled like the night sky laced with starlight, separating us from the audience. Noah was already there, shrugging his own wings on while two of the other dancers, Kieran and Anders, stretched in preparation.
“If you two were any later, I’d say you needed a pregnancy test.” Noah shot us a cocky smile as we fell into our places. “Nice of you to show up, boys.”
Noah was one of my favorite dancers to work with—both because he really knew his stuff, and because he didn’t feel the need to be a hard-ass about putting everyone in their places. On stage, he moved like liquid sex; off it, he could be your best friend and your fearless leader all at once. Watching him dance was half of the reason I’d wanted to audition at the Ballroom in the first place; his management style as Foster’s number two was more than half the reason I’d stayed.
“Nice to be here,” I called back at him, then turned my back to the curtains and lowered my head.
The dirty bass of the club music died off slowly. In its place, there was a moment of silence that signaled to our patrons that it was time to take their seats. The Ballroom had a strict black-tie formal dress code that reminded our patrons that they were gentlemen. There wasn’t so much as a wolf whistle or a catcall as they waited for the curtains to part. If anything, it sounded like they were all holding their breaths.
Good—they should’ve been.
Because the second that curtain did open, we’d be taking their breaths away.
A bar of gentle violin flowed up from the orchestra pit—the opening for “The Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah. When our singers came in with their first “Hallelujah!” the curtains parted, giving the crowd their first real glimpse of Heaven’s Angels for the night.
The five of us stood in V-formation. Noah took the center, Damon and Kieran on his sides. Anders and I, being the newest dancers, took the outer positions. We’d be going down into the crowd while the other three took the spotlight, flirting with patrons who would hopefully buy private dances from us later in the night.
We didn’t move until the singers—plucked right off of Broadway itself—had finished their part. Then, suddenly, the bass dropped, picking up a sensual beat that mixed perfectly with the classical violin.
That’s when the pants came off and the crowd raised its collective voice to a roar.
Was it demeaning, prancing around in angel wings and not much else? Maybe if
it had been up on any other stage in New York. But up on stage at Heaven’s, I felt anything but cheap. We were the luxury experience—high class from the first dance of the night to the last. I fell into the steps that I’d learned over hours and hours of Noah’s guidance, the delicate balance between sexuality and elegance. Not the easiest thing to pull off in a gold G-string with my cock throbbing hard against the soft fabric—but that’s why we were the best.
