Beat Of His Own Drums (Band Of Brothers Book 2)

by Ann Lister

  The stripper bouncing on his groin giggled with renewed excitement from the sudden–and welcoming appearance of Simon's erection. She obviously believed it was her ministrations and lap dance techniques that were arousing him. Oh, if she only knew the real reason I'm getting hard! He almost pushed her off of him when he saw Castro moving towards the door leading out to the hallway. He desperately wanted to follow him to that office at the end of the corridor, but there was no way he could slip out unquestioned by Ben or the others.

  His eyes continued to track Castro as he crossed the entire expanse of floor. By the time he reached the door and turned the knob to leave, the girl on Simon's lap had dropped down onto her knees between his parted thighs. Castro glanced over his shoulder at Simon, and their eyes connected in the dim lighting just as the girl took Simon's thickness into the heat of her mouth.

  “Jesus, fuck!” Simon growled. As good as her lips and tongue felt working over his shaft, it was Castro's mouth he wanted engulfing him and taking him deep.

  Simon ignored the applause coming from Ben and the others seated nearby and latched onto the back of the girl's head to hold her in place while he thrust his hips up off the chair to drive his cock into her throat. He began a series of rapid snaps of his hips and quickly brought himself right to the edge of release. He teetered on the crest of the wave headed for bliss for several agonizing seconds, then his balls grew taut and his cock painfully thickened. He pumped between the girl's lips a half a dozen more times, then when he couldn't hold off the burning need to come any longer, he glanced in the direction of Castro where he stood near the doorway.

  At the very moment his seed began to spill into the stripper's mouth, Castro stepped into the hallway and let the door close behind him. Never had a climax felt so hollow to Simon, and he blamed that on Castro. The fucker was playing with his mind–just like everyone else seemed to be doing these days, and it needed to stop. Simon removed himself from the girl's mouth and tucked his spent cock back into his pants. The whole time, Ben and the other guys continued with their locker room style taunting of Simon's depraved behavior. He shrugged it all off in favor of getting the hell out of this club as fast as he could.

  He stood quickly and almost knocked his chair over backwards and the girl onto her ass. “I'm taking off,” Simon announced.

  “What's the fucking rush?” Ben asked. “You blow a nut and now you're gonna go back to the hotel and sleep it off?”

  “Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do,” Simon replied in a clipped tone.

  Dakota heard their exchange and stood up from his chair in the row in front of them. “Mind if I catch a ride with you back to the hotel?” he asked Simon.

  “That's fine, but I'm leaving now,” Simon barked, “and I'm not in the mood to wait around.”

  Ben grabbed Simon's arm and stopped him from moving. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “I don't have a problem,” Simon answered. “I told you before we came out that I wasn't in the mood for this.”

  “You're acting like a prick,” Ben remarked and his eyes dropped to the girl standing up from floor after servicing Simon.

  Simon pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a couple of twenty-dollar bills, then tucked them into the waistband of the girl's plaid skirt. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Simon said and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Then he swung around to face his brother again. “I think I'll catch my own ride back to LA.”

  “Why would you do that?” Ben asked. “We have a bus taking us home tomorrow morning.”

  Simon shrugged. “I need to clear my head, and a nice, long drive could be just what I need,” he stated. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Whatever, little brother,” Ben said. “You do what you gotta do.”

  “If you don't see me in the morning, then leave without me.” Simon didn't wait around to hear if Ben had a response. Fuck that shit and everyone in the club–including Castro.

  Chapter Five

  Simon slid into the backseat of a taxi, and Dakota settled in beside him. He gave the driver the name of their hotel and glanced over at his drum tech. The kid seemed nervous, but Simon couldn't imagine why. He also found it off that Dakota would want to leave the strip club early when the possibility of getting a blowjob from a hot girl was pretty much guaranteed. No one walked away from something like that without a damn good reason.

  I left early, so what was my reason?

  Instead of answering his own question, he turned his attention to Dakota. “How old are you?”

  “Excuse me?” Dakota asked as he lifted his eyes up from his phone.

  “I asked you your age?”

  “Why do you need to know that?” Dakota answered defensively. “Am I in trouble for being in that club underage?”

  “So, you are underage?” Simon asked with surprise.

  “I'm twenty. I'll be legal next month,” Dakota explained. “Are you going to fire me?”

  Simon chuckled to himself. They were practically the same damn age, but Simon felt so much older than the kid. Probably because he had lived hard for his young years. “You're the best tech I've ever had,” he said. “Not a chance I'd let you go.”

  Dakota visibly deflated in relief beside Simon. “Thank fuck,” he mumbled. “I really need this job.”

  “The job is yours for as long as you want it,” Simon reassured. “I just thought it was unusual a kid your age would leave a strip club early. No one does that.”

  “You did,” Dakota reminded him.

  “But I at least got a blowjob before I walked.”

  Dakota shrugged. “Not my thing.”

  “Tits and ass aren't your thing?” Simon pushed.

  “I'm not a fan of . . . crowds.”

  “Seriously? That's your excuse for leaving the club early?” Simon mocked. “Are you forgetting you work inside packed music venues several times every week?”

  “Whatever,” Dakota said softly. “I don't have to explain myself to you or anyone else.”

  “I didn't mean any offense,” Simon added. He could see Dakota tensing beside him and didn't want the kid to quit working for him over something this stupid. The backseat fell silent, and Simon began to wonder how much longer it would be before they reached the hotel.

  “Why'd you'd use the phrase ʻa kid my ageʼ?” Dakota asked, breaking the awkward silence that hung between them. “We're the same age, aren't we?”

  Simon studied Dakota using nothing more than the street lights as they filtered into the taxi like a strobe whenever they passed one. Had he ever really taken the time to look at Dakota? His thick, dark waves hung over his eyebrows and obscured one eye. The urge to push them off Dakota's forehead was making Simon's fingers twitch. He had a strong jawline with dark whiskers covering his chin and full lips that Simon was curious to taste. He lifted his eyes and stopped on two warm, expressive eyes, which were staring back at him expectantly, waiting for a response to something.

  Had Dakota asked him a question? What the fuck had they been talking about before things got weird?

  Simon cleared his throat. If anyone had suddenly made things weird, it was him, not Dakota. “We're close in age,” Simon offered after he finally got his brain to work right. “I just feel old when I'm around kids like you.”

  “There you go again with the kid reference,” Dakota protested. “I've been working with club bands since I was fifteen fucking years old! I'm not a kid.”

  “Jesus, I'm sorry, Dakota. I really didn't mean to piss you off.”

  “And that's another thing,” Dakota bit out. “We've been working together for months, and you still haven't bothered to get to know me. And that's not for my lack of trying.”

  “I wasn't doing that on purpose.” Simon defended himself. “I've been busy, and I've had lots of shit on my mind. I'll make a bigger effort to do better, okay?”

  “You can start by calling me what everyone else on the fucking crew does, and that's Dak or Dax,” Dakot
a instructed. “Pick either one of those and start using it.”

  That's what everyone called the kid? How did Simon not know this? Was his head that far up his own ass that he missed all the cues for what was going on around him? Jesus, he really was an asshole, wasn't he?

  The taxi driver stopped in front of the hotel and pulled Simon from his thoughts. He paid the driver and then hopped out of the car. Dakota walked beside Simon with his hands dug deeply into his front pockets.

  “Feel like hanging out for a while?” Simon questioned.

  “It's kinda late, isn't it?” Dakota asked.

  Simon shrugged. “Don't honestly know what time it is,” he said. “I just thought it might give me a chance to learn more about you–like you just suggested.” Dakota eyed him with suspicion, and it really pissed Simon off. “That wasn't a creeper invitation, Dak. You called me out on not knowing my own drum tech, and you're right. I'm making an effort here. Give me some credit.”

  “I'm not old enough to drink at the hotel bar,” Dakota grumbled.

  “We don't need to go there,” Simon countered. “I've got some beer and weed up in my room. We can hang there if you feel like it.”

  Dakota was quiet for a bit before he finally nodded in agreement. They rode the elevator together in more silence, and Simon was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake in asking Dakota up to his room. Fuck it. The kid wants me to get to know him, well, this is me trying to do exactly that. Take it or fucking leave it.

  Simon let them into his room and showed Dakota to the small balcony off of the bedroom. He went back inside to grab two beers and returned to the balcony with a joint burning between his lips. Dakota was leaning up against the railing facing Simon with his elbows resting on the top of the metal railing. The position stretched the t-shirt over his lean chest muscles and flat stomach. Dakota certainly wasn't cut with muscles, but what he had filled out his clothing nicely.

  Why are you noticing all this now?

  Simon took a deep drag off the joint and exhaled it over his head before passing it over to Dakota. He watched those full lips wrap around the end of the joint and suck hard, then forced himself to look away from the sight before he began to show the obvious signs of what those visuals were doing to him. He focused his attention on opening the bottles of beer he carried instead. He handed Dakota a bottle and took a sip off of his own.

  “No hard stuff?” Dakota asked.

  Simon nearly choked on the beer he had inside his mouth. He wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “I've got tequila if you want some.”

  Dakota shook his head and took another drag off the joint. “Nah, it's probably not wise of me to do shots.”

  Simon stepped up to the railing and gazed at the view of the city buildings around them. The typical street noises wafted up to greet them, and it somehow soothed the restless feeling inside of him. Dakota tapped his shoulder and passed the joint back to him.

  “Why don't you like people calling you Dakota?” Simon asked for no particular reason.

  “It sounds like a name you'd give a puppy.”

  Simon laughed at that. “You really think so?”

  “I think Dak sounds pretty cool,” he said, then he offered Simon a goofy grin that made his chest feel tight. “Honestly, I don't mind if you call me Dakota though. I mean, if you want to. From you, it feels . . . different.”

  “Why's that?”

  “I don't know,” Dakota replied. “Maybe because we work closely together. I'd just prefer that the guys on the crew continue to call me Dak though.”

  “All right, then that's what we'll do,” Simon confirmed with a nod.

  He glanced over at Dakota, and as soon as their eyes met, the smile fell from Simon's face. He suddenly realized how close they were standing with their arms almost resting against each other at the railing. Simon could feel heat rolling off of him, and it was electrifying his skin. His eyes dropped to Dakota's mouth, and the need to kiss was as sudden and as desperate as his next intake of air. He was filled with wonder over Dakota's plush lips and wanted to sample them–leisurely. He wanted to drag his fingers through that thick mop of hair and tangle the waves around each of his digits. The thoughts were making him dizzy, and his dick started to get hard.

  Jesus fucking Christ, you've lost your mind.

  “I think I need some of that tequila,” Simon stated and pushed himself off of the railing. He disappeared inside the room and removed the cap from the bottle. He took a quick gulp and felt the burn slide down his throat and all the way to his toes, then he took one more swig before he returned to the balcony still holding the bottle.

  “This is good pot,” Dakota commented without making eye contact with Simon. “I'm really stoned right now.”

  “Mmmm, it is,” Simon agreed. Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments before Dakota looked away.

  “Stop it,” Dakota urged.

  “What am I doing?” Simon asked and took another swig off the tequila bottle.

  “You're looking at me funny,” he explained. “Did the guys on the crew tell you I was a faggot or something?”

  “Why the fuck would they say that?” Simon flinched from Dakota's harsh remark.

  “They tease me sometimes,” Dakota said softly, then shrugged. “I guess, it's because I'm not built up like most of the roadies, you know?”

  “In case you hadn't noticed, neither am I,” Simon scoffed.

  “What are you talking about?” Dakota said as he grabbed a hold of Simon biceps right where the bare skin met the short sleeves of his shirt. “Your arms and back muscles are ripped from beating on your drums every day.”

  Simon knew he should step away from Dakota's touch, but the electricity buzzing through his veins from where his hand met Simon's skin was as powerful as the effects of the booze and weed floating in his system. His brain was suddenly flooded with desires and needs which he wanted to quench like a desperate thirst. He definitely didn't want to pull away. Fuck no! He wanted to step closer and he wanted more–so much more. His cock was throbbing in his pants from all the filthy things he wanted to do to Dakota.

  And then Dakota froze, almost like he had suddenly come to his senses.

  “I need to take a piss,” Dakota announced.

  Simon nodded. “Yeah, go ahead,” he said. “Bathroom is to the left of where we came in.”

  As soon as Dakota left the balcony area, Simon grabbed his head. What the hell was he thinking? He had been about one second away from planting a kiss onto his drum tech's very sexy mouth before the kid had thankfully excused himself. Jesus, that's all he needed to do . . . fucking out himself with their crew before he'd even had a chance to fully explore his bisexual side. Those kinds of experiments would be far safer when enjoyed by himself and with total strangers–not with someone who technically worked for him. Great way to kill an otherwise good working relationship with an unwanted sexual pass.

  A few minutes later, Dakota returned. Simon had finished his beer and had taken another pull off of the bottle, too. He wasn't drunk by any means, but he was definitely feeling the warmth of a very good buzz. One glance at Dakota and he could see the unease in him. He looked as rattled by Simon as Simon was of him. Interesting conundrum, to say the least. Was it possible that they both shared the same desire to get naked with each other? Was Simon crazy enough to go for it? Crazy? Not by definition, but the amount of substances he'd ingested tonight had relaxed him to a point where he had no fear of going for it when logically he knew he probably shouldn't.

  “Hey, Dak?”

  Dakota picked up the beer he'd left on the table beside the railing and drained it. “Yeah?”

  “What's the real reason you wanted to cut out of the club early tonight?” Simon ventured. “Was it really because you don't like crowds, or does it maybe have more to do with that type of . . . entertainment not being your thing?”

  Dakota's back went straight after hearing Simon's question, and his eyes darted toward the open door leadi
ng into the room as if he was planning his escape. “You were leaving early, too. I merely asked if I could share a cab. If you hadn't said you were leaving, I would have stayed, so don't make this all about me being the one that wanted to cut out.”

  “I had already done what was expected of me,” Simon said. “I had no further reason to stay.”

  “Look, Simon. I don't want to get into trouble for saying something I shouldn't, and I need this job.”

  “Nothing you say to me is ever going to get you fired,” Simon reassured.

  “Then what exactly is it that you want to know?” Dakota asked the question without making eye contact.

  Simon rolled himself against the metal railing and inched closer to Dakota. He dipped his head to try and pull Dakota's steady gaze away from his feet. “You said the guys give you shit about being gay,” Simon stated. “Is there any truth to that, or just the guys talking shit?”

  Dakota's head lifted. He met Simon's eyes and then quickly averted his gaze again. “Does it matter to you what I do in my downtime?”

  “Not specifically, but if you ever need someone to talk to about it, I'm happy to listen.”

  Dakota shook his head and stepped off the balcony and back inside to the sitting area adjacent to the bed. “Thank you, but that's not necessary,” he said. “I work for you. That doesn't require you to be my therapist.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I might need a friend to talk to?” Simon asked.

  “What do you mean?” Dakota countered. “You were with your brother and a couple of dozen of your buddies tonight. The way it looks to me is you're never at a loss for friends.”

  Simon sat down on the couch and ran his hands back and forth on his thighs as if to dry them. “There are certain things I can't discuss with anyone and that includes my brother,” Simon said softly.