by Ella Frank
Okay, yeah, he was drunk enough to admit that he was the queen of having bad ideas, and wanting Julien? That was a horrible idea. But he’d been lusting after him ever since he’d seen him on Chef Master, episode four, when Julien had told one of the other contestants to “suce ma queue,” which Robbie later Googled and found out meant “suck my dick.” He remembered that because he’d had several fantasies afterward involving giving Julien head in an industrial-sized kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances.
The problem was that in all of those little fantasies, it was just him and Julien “the Prick” Thornton. There was no goddamn Priest, and, well, Robbie wasn’t sure what to do about him, but he was positive it involved kicking and screaming of some kind, and not in a good way.
As he scanned the crowded dance floor, Robbie considered grabbing Elliot and making a beeline for the back door—until he spotted the two men who had just walked in the front entrance of CRUSH.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
He hadn’t drunk nearly enough alcohol for this.
Tall like himself, Julien and Priest were immediately noticeable as they walked into the crowded club. But unlike Robbie, their mere presence caused what felt like a ripple in time as they stood on the perimeter of the dance floor, silently observing those around them.
It was just like it’d been the night of the Christmas party. When the two of them were together, they projected some kind of force field that made everyone else fade into the background and freeze. Or maybe that was the vodka? Robbie couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.
Julien looked as though he’d just left one of Paris’s Fashion Week runways. Dressed in charcoal pants, a fitted V-neck burgundy sweater, and a checkered scarf to match, he looked sharp, sexy, and totally overdressed for the bump and grind of the club scene. But no one cared because he was so damn mouthwatering to look at. Then there was Priest.
From his leather shoes to his tailored pants and turtleneck sweater, he was in all black, which made his hair look like a flame. And while Robbie knew Priest was the same height as Julien and himself, the commanding way Priest held himself made it appear as though he towered over all the other men around him.
Robbie fidgeted where he sat and felt his breathing increase, knowing that Priest was searching him out amongst the sea of sweaty men. It was in his serious eyes and the stern line of his mouth, as though he were in deep concentration, and when Priest finally spotted Robbie and that expression didn’t change, but deepened, Robbie’s leg began a nervous kind of jig.
He licked his lips that were suddenly dry, and that was when a guy with blue highlights, skinny jeans, and a mesh tank top infiltrated his little bubble, stopping beside the two men who’d just entered the club.
The guy aimed a flirtatious smile up at Julien, and Robbie felt his spine become rigid even though it was irrational and totally not his place. For a split second he had the intense desire to storm over to the presumptuous little twink and claw his eyes out. That was until Priest turned toward the blue dye job and shook his head, his mouth drawn tight in an unamused line, his message clear: no. And blue hair scampered off.
Oh shit. That kind of arrogance. That kind of…authority. It was so fucking sexy, and completely and utterly terrifying at the same time. Priest put his lips by Julien’s ear and started to speak, and then Julien looked out across the dance floor and finally locked eyes with Robbie.
Jade, that was the color of Julien Thornton’s eyes. A rich shade of green that was gorgeous with the tone of his olive skin, and right now, they had an amused light to them that made them close to sparkle.
Robbie tapped his thumb on his thigh, anxiety making the alcohol buzz even stronger, and then Julien’s lips curved and a dimple appeared on his right cheek. Robbie’s cock immediately hardened at the sight of it, and then his eyes caught Priest’s as he kissed Julien’s temple, and then flicked the tip of his tongue over that dimple.
Oh. My. Fuck. They were so damn hot they were gonna set off the fire alarms.
Sure, they might be married. And sure, Robbie hated everything that came out of Priest’s mouth. But there was no denying that Robbie found both of them unbelievably sexy—and that was with their clothes on.
As Priest straightened, Robbie thought he caught his lips twitch, almost as though he were laughing, but his expression remained impassive as he walked off to the other side of the packed dance floor. Robbie followed his progress until the crowd swallowed him up, and then he returned his attention to Julien, who was now walking toward him.
Julien’s eyes were focused, his final destination clear, and Robbie had the distinct impression that he was being hunted from all sides. When Julien came to a stop in front of him, he leaned in, placed his lips by Robbie’s ear, and said, “Comme on se retrouve, princesse.” And when he raised his head, a devilish grin curved his lips. “We meet again.”
Something that Robbie had learned the night he’d met Julien at The Popped Cherry was that he was confident and even better looking in person than he was on TV.
“I’m still angry at you,” Robbie announced, figuring that should be stated before he did something stupid, like beg Julien to take him away and do everything his twinkling eyes were promising.
“Oui, I can tell by the grin on your lips. Very angry indeed.”
“I am,” Robbie said, as he twirled his phone on the bar top, going for the unaffected-but-cute look. “And just because you speak French doesn’t mean I’m going to melt at your feet.”
Julien shifted a little closer and said, “How about kneel? Would it make you kneel at my feet, princesse?”
Robbie turned his head at that, and realized a little too late that, this close, their lips almost touched. He pulled back slightly and ordered himself not to look at Julien’s spectacular mouth, because shit, that would get him into a whole world of trouble. Instead, he decided to change the subject. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Princess?” When Robbie arched an eyebrow, Julien chuckled and took a seat on the stool beside him. “It’s how Priest referred to you after you met. Then I saw you, and I knew why.”
“I’m not drunk enough for this answer, am I?”
Julien shrugged. “You won’t know unless you ask.” Then he gestured for the bartender.
“Okay…” Robbie said, and let out a put-upon sigh. “Why does he call me that?”
Julien ordered a Tom Collins then turned back to Robbie and ran his eyes all over his face. “Because you’re as pretty as one, mon cher petit. Pretty as a princess.”
Robbie eyed him for a moment, and then decided to take it as a compliment. After all, pretty wasn’t a word he’d ever grow tired of hearing in reference to himself. He was fucking pretty. “There you go again with the French.”
“I know,” Julien said, and licked those full lips. “I’m still hoping it’ll have you falling to your knees.”
Robbie shifted on the stool, unable to believe how turned on he was by a two-minute conversation. But he knew it was more than that. His brain had Julien’s groans on a loop in his head, and all he could think about was how hot Julien must look when he came.
Okay, stop thinking about that, and focus on something else, Robbie told himself. Focus on anything else.
Since a drink was out of the question, he looked around for something else to distract him from the sexy Frenchman sitting close enough that their knees touched, and that was when Robbie spotted him.
Standing over against the far wall by a high-top table, Priest had his eyes trained on the two of them, and he had the same unsmiling expression from earlier.
“What’s he doing?” Robbie asked, suddenly feeling as though there was a giant spotlight on them.
“Hmm?”
“Priest? What’s he doing all the way over there when you’re over here?”
Julien looked across the crowd to where Robbie was focused. “He’s watching.”
“Watching?” Robbie said, his voice
going up several guilty octaves. Could Priest see the erection that Robbie had no hope of hiding? Probably.
“Yes. It’s what he does,” Julien explained, then picked up his drink and took a sip.
“Okay, well, I don’t plan to touch you, so he’s got nothing to worry about.”
“Now that’s a shame,” Julien said, then placed his glass down and ran a finger around the rim of it. “I can assure you, he’s hoping you’ll do the exact opposite.”
Robbie looked at the silent man across the room whose stare was louder than the throbbing bass. “Why? Why would he want that?”
“He’s looking for your tells.”
Robbie scoffed as he smoothed his hand along his thigh. “My tells?”
“Mhmm. It’s what makes him so effective in the bedroom and courtroom. He’s working out what makes you tick. He’s extremely good at it.”
“Uh, okay. As if he wasn’t weird enough.”
“That he is,” Julien said with a grin. “But he grows on you.”
“Like mold?” Robbie asked, as he looked over at Julien. He knew that Priest was one of the best criminal lawyers around—he’d found that out firsthand—but… “How does that work in a bedroom? Knowing my…” Robbie waved a hand in the air. “What’d you call them? Tells?”
“Because, princesse, he’ll find out what they are and use them against you in the most delicious way you could ever imagine.”
As that morsel of information sank into his fuzzy brain, Robbie looked back to Priest, who raised a glass to him in mock salute, and thought, My imagination never could’ve come up with a scenario quite like this.
“WOULD YOU LIKE another drink?” Julien said as he studied the beautiful man perched on the stool beside him.
This was only the second time he’d been up close and personal with Robbie, and as Julien ran his eyes over the caramel highlights, high cheekbones, and dainty nose and lips, he could see all the reasons why Priest had been so eager for the two of them to meet.
Robbie was exquisite. His features were soft, yet sharp, and his eyes were a striking azure color—lined in that smoky kohl, they were both innocent and sensual all at once.
“I’m not allowed,” Robbie said, and turned to face him with an exaggerated pout. “I’ve been cut off. The bartender won’t give me anymore.”
Julien wanted to suck that pouty bottom lip and listen to the sound Robbie made when he did. But instead, he said, “Not allowed? Why?”
Robbie licked where Julien wanted to. “Elliot.”
“Elliot? And who is Elliot? Your boyfriend?” Julien looked around to see if there was anyone he should be worried about. But when he didn’t spot anyone heading their way with daggers in their eyes, he looked back to see Robbie grinning at him.
Cheeky boy.
“Are you laughing at me?” Julien asked, and when Robbie’s eyes lit up, Julien picked up his drink and took another sip.
“You looked worried.”
“I was.”
“That I had a boyfriend?” Robbie made a fake sad face. “Why? Would that put a kink in your plans?” When he realized what he’d said, Robbie started to laugh merrily, the alcohol clearly making his lips loose. “I mean, you know, a bigger kink than me having sex with you and your husband.”
Julien’s cock stirred at the mischief in Robbie’s voice, not to mention the image his words conjured up. “No,” Julien said. “I have no doubt you would’ve worked out a way to end it if you were attached. Otherwise you wouldn’t have told us where you were tonight. I was more concerned that Elliot, whoever he might be, would catch me unawares, and my other half is a little too far away to defend my honor.”
“Honor?” Robbie said in a way that made it clear he thought Julien had none.
“Ouch. I’ll have you know there’s honor, even amongst thieves.”
“And you’re a thief? Yeah, right. And I’m an astronaut.”
Julien placed an arm along the bar and stroked his finger atop the wood. “Hmm, so. No boyfriend, then?”
“No,” Robbie said, and screwed his nose up. “He’s a friend. Unlike you, I don’t go trolling for bed partners when I’m already spoken for.”
“I gave you my phone number,” Julien reminded him. “I didn’t invite you to my bed.”
Robbie opened his mouth, clearly about to rebuff that, and then he thought about it and snapped it shut. “Oh my God. That’s actually true. Well, shit. Now I really want another drink.”
“I thought you said you weren’t allowed?”
“So? I changed my mind. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, princesse. I’m just trying to decide if you’re easily influenced or if you like to break the rules.”
“Does it matter?”
Julien’s eyes wandered down to the delicate collarbone he could see at the neck of Robbie’s shirt. He was the complete opposite to Priest and himself. His skin was a lovely peaches-and-cream tone that made Julien want to lick him to see if he tasted as creamy as he looked. And when he brought his eyes back to Robbie’s, he found they were now dilated, giving away just how much Robbie enjoyed being looked at, and Julien decided to up the ante.
“It’ll matter very much when we have you naked between us.” For once, Robbie said nothing as Julien slipped off his stool and took a step closer to him. “Do you want that? To be naked and in between Priest and myself?”
A shaky breath left Robbie’s lips, and then he turned to look out across the dance floor, and Julien knew he was searching out Priest. He did also, and when they both zeroed in on the third person in this little triangle forming, Robbie said quietly, “I shouldn’t.”
“Why?” Julien asked, as he watched his husband take a sip of what he knew would be a club soda.
“Him…” Robbie whispered, and then he broke the connection, seemingly stunned by his own admission as he looked back at Julien. Then, in the blink of an eye, all of the attitude and sass was back. “I don’t like him. And I know he doesn’t like me.”
Julien shook his head. “You’re wrong. But I understand your concern.” And he did—Priest was a lot to wrap one’s head around. “Still want that drink?”
Robbie nodded and stood so they were facing one another, and even though Julien had known Robbie was tall, it still surprised him that he was now eye level with the young man.
“I’ll have a French Whore, thanks,” Robbie said with an impish grin, and when Julien’s eyebrow arched, Robbie laughed. “No offense. It was either that or a Ginger Crush, and I’m not drunk enough to even pretend I want one of those.”
It wasn’t often that Julien was at a loss for words, but as he stood there staring at Robbie, he found himself utterly…enchanted.
“So, while you buy me a drink, I need to find El.” Julien frowned, and Robbie rolled his eyes. “How dumb do you think I am? I’m not going home with two strangers, especially when one is Mr. Grumpy, without telling my friend first.”
“So you’re going to come, then?”
“I don’t know,” Robbie said, and pursed his lips. “I guess that depends on if you’re as good as you say you are.”
“You’re a cheeky one.”
Robbie batted his lashes. “Yes. I am.”
“Hmm. It all makes a little more sense now.”
“What does?”
“The way you rile him up.”
Robbie smirked. “It’s not my fault he’s such a stuffed shirt.”
“Oh, Priest is no stuffed shirt. But you’ll find that out soon enough.”
The teasing light in Robbie’s eyes vanished at Julien’s words, and a cautious one appeared. It was clear he was weighing the words he’d just heard, and Julien wished he could read his mind.
“I need to talk to El and tell him where I’m going,” Robbie said as he backed away toward the crowd. “That’s the rule. You leave or hook up with someone, you phone a friend.”
“Do this often, do you?”
“If I said yes, would you be jealous?”
> Julien was about to deny it, but said, “Oui, I believe we would be.”
“Good,” Robbie said, and the light that re-entered his eyes was pure delight as he spun on his toes and went off in search of his friend Elliot.
Chapter Four
CONFESSION
Anyone who doesn’t love Starship scares me.
I’M DOING THIS. I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this, Robbie thought. But as he weaved his way through the dancers on the floor, his mission was clear: find Elliot.
He could feel Julien’s eyes on his ass as he went, so Robbie made sure to add an extra swing to his hips, and every now and then, when people shifted a certain way, the lights flashed up and he caught sight of Priest standing where he’d been since entering the club. His eyes fastened on Robbie like some sort of tractor beam.
God, it was a rush to be caught in the middle of them. It was a place Robbie knew he’d enjoy a whole damn lot if he could get rid of the niggling voice in the back of his head, and the final drink should help with that. Not to mention give him the extra dose of courage he needed for the sheet-gripping sex he knew these two would deliver.
From the moment Priest had picked up the phone tonight, Robbie had been hard, and when Julien had flat-out told him that they wanted him—Robbie Bianchi—naked in between them? Forget it. No gay man alive could resist that offer. Priest might be an insufferable ass, but his mere presence made all kinds of fantasies run riot. Oh, and he came with one hot-as-fuck husband.
As the music switched to a beat with a pulsating throb, the vibe on the floor changed and couples began to bump and grind against one another, as though the flimsy scraps of material most of them wore weren’t there at all.
Robbie spotted Elliot draped all over a buffed-up blond in faded jeans and a black tank, and he tapped his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. Elliot held his finger up to his partner and looked over his shoulder at Robbie with a stunned expression, clearly not expecting his friend to have strayed from the bar.
