eBook Details


Second to None

Series: The Breakfast Club , Book 3.0
By: Felice Stevens | Other books by Felice Stevens
Published By: Felice Stevens
Published: Jan 28, 2016
ISBN # e000000001271
Word Count: 80,000
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Eligible Price: $4.99

Available in: Mobipocket (.mobi), Epub, Adobe Acrobat

Categories: Romance>LGBTQ>Gay Romance>Contemporary


Second to None (The Breakfast Club) by Felice Stevens - Romance>LGBTQ>Gay eBook

Nightclub owner Marcus Feldman never met a man he didn’t love, at least for the night. Although his best friends have all found love, Marcus shuns their advice to commit to one man and settle down. His past has taught him monogamy and marriage is for fools, and Marcus is anything but a fool.

Tyler Reiss’s dream of dancing professionally is unexpectedly cut short and replaced by a different kind of love. He trades in his ballet slippers for go go boots, and spends his nights dancing at the hottest gay club in the city. Flirting with the customers for tips is easy, but resisting the dark and sexy Marcus is becoming harder to do with each passing day.

Unforeseen circumstances bring Marcus and Tyler closer and though they give in to their mutual passion, both still struggle to guard their hearts. When crises threaten, Tyler and Marcus find their strength in each other rather than falling apart. Tyler must choose to either run, or stay and fight for the life he wants, while Marcus realizes that love doesn’t mean losing himself and opens his heart, making him a better man in the end.
Reader Rating:   4.2 starstarstarstarstar (5 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   liplipliplip
Chapter One

“What’s the matter, Boss? No one around to play with anymore?”
The last blessed drops of Glenlivet slid down Marcus Feldman’s throat before he answered his chief of security.
“Go away, Darius. Aren’t I paying you to stand at the door and be intimidating instead of annoying me like a fly?” He ran an appraising eye over the broad chest of the man, and though he liked what he saw, Darius had made it clear from day one he wasn’t available for nighttime fun and games. Marcus set his empty glass on the bar, and the cute, dark-haired bartender he’d hired last week immediately appeared. Without even asking, Marcus was rewarded with a refill and a cheeky grin.
“Thanks, Antonio.”
“If you need anything else, let me know.” Antonio’s dark eyes held his. “I’m completely at your service.” With a wink and roll of his hips, Antonio walked to the other side of the bar to help a customer.
Watching Antonio’s round ass encased in skintight red leather pants, Marcus could’ve groaned out loud with frustration. His fingers tightened around the glass of scotch, and he tossed half of it back with a flip of his wrist. He was on the last month of a forced, three-month stretch of celibacy and so horny he could barely see straight. Every morning and night he cursed his two friends for holding him to that stupid bet he’d so carelessly made with Zach.
Running a club and being surrounded by half-naked male bodies he was now forbidden to touch didn’t help his strung-out libido at all. He walked around with a perpetual hard-on and aching balls from all the flirting and casual touches he received daily yet couldn’t act upon. Knowing his friend Julian, he probably put the staff up to torturing him. Juli always was an evil bastard.
Marcus couldn’t get too mad though, since he knew if the roles were reversed he’d enjoy inflicting the same torture on his friend. Besides, it was no secret the bartenders all wanted to sleep with him, bet or no bet. They thought it was their way up the ladder of success at Sparks. Screw the owner they figured, and it would get them the best shifts, and maybe they’d manage to hook him as a steady bed partner and bank account. He sipped his drink and contemplated the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Not a likely scenario. Marcus Feldman was nobody’s fool and nobody’s boyfriend.
“That Antonio guy is someone you could have in a heartbeat. I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you next month.”
Marcus shot a venomous glance at the bright, white smile Darius flashed.
“Fuck you.”
“Already told you—not interested.”
He and Darius leaned against the bar, staring out at the dance floor, and Marcus appraised the male dancers he’d recently hired for the club. They added a bit of flair, and he liked seeing the men in their platform go-go boots and skintight, gold lycra shorts, dancing with the customers, encouraging everyone to have a good time. And of course, spend more money.
Tyler, the newest dancer, caught his attention. Long strands of black, sweat-dampened hair whipped about his shoulders as he shimmied in front of one of the club’s biggest spenders, Eduardo Ortiz. Tyler’s muscular, lithe body moved with the sinuous grace of someone who didn’t dance for fun but used his body as a form of art. It was beautiful to watch, and Marcus stood enthralled, oblivious to everything else around him.
True to form, Ortiz had a fistful of bills and a leer on his heavy-featured face. The man stood around six feet four with a mountainous build; his custom-made Italian suit jacket strained over football-sized shoulders, and his tree-trunk thighs looked capable of crushing a man’s head between them like an overripe grape. Marcus’s eyes narrowed, watching Ortiz’s thick fingers slide below the waistband of Tyler’s shorts, only a hairbreadth away from grabbing hold of his crotch.
Pig. “Keep an eye on them, please,” said Marcus, gesturing toward the potential problem with a tilt of his chin. “I don’t like Ortiz manhandling my guys.”
“I’m on it.” Darius flashed him an amused smile. “Want to keep the goodies all for yourself, huh?”
“There’s still a month left on this stupid bet,” said Marcus, distaste twisting his lips. One long, long month of jerking off in the shower, in the bed, or wherever.
Darius smiled into his glass of water.
Marcus shook his head in disgust. “Juli’s got you watching me, huh?” He put up his hand. “No, no, I don’t expect an answer. I knew that bastard would have spies to make sure I didn’t cheat.”
“I have to say, I’m pretty impressed. I thought you’d cave right after they left for their honeymoon.”
Admittedly, Marcus surprised himself. It was the challenge, he guessed, his gaze returning to Tyler, whose hips never missed a beat of the pounding dubstep. Tyler’s arms twined around Ortiz’s neck for only a moment, his long graceful fingers ghosting along the man’s jowly creases, before he turned and pressed his ass into Ortiz’s crotch, grinding and swaying. Idly, Marcus wondered if Tyler would end up in Ortiz’s bed tonight. Heat rolled through him at the thought of Tyler’s sweat-slicked body under his own. He’d love to wrap his hand around that thick black mane of hair while he pushed inside that tight round ass. Tyler had an exceptionally beautiful ass.
“Damn that man can move,” said Darius, the appreciation apparent not only in his voice but in his eyes. “He’s way too good to be a simple club dancer.”
Silently agreeing, Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he continued to watch Tyler’s supple body writhe. The effortless motions of his arms and legs coupled with the sensuous motion of his hips all spoke of formal dance training. The muscles in his powerful legs and shoulders bunched and rippled under the flash of lights.
The dance ended, and Marcus watched Ortiz place a heavy hand on Tyler’s shoulder, holding him there and whispering something in his ear, an invitation to spend the night in his bed, no doubt. Unfamiliar anger sparked inside Marcus—no patron should be pressuring any of his employees to have sex—and he set his glass down on the bar, curious to see how the scenario would unfold. The thought of Tyler with Ortiz nauseated Marcus. Instead of returning to the front of the club, Darius remained by his side, perhaps feeling the same uneasiness about the situation as he did.
Being that this marked Tyler’s first week at Sparks, Marcus couldn’t be certain how he’d handle a blatant sexual invitation such as the one Ortiz no doubt made. He held his breath, inexplicably hoping Tyler would…what? Kick Ortiz in the balls? Punch him in the jaw? Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, anxiety tightening a noose around his insides. Why did he care? It wasn’t as if he was sleeping with Tyler; hell, he barely knew the guy.
Tyler brushed back some strands of hair sticking to his face and glanced up, meeting Marcus’s eyes across the dance floor. It felt like a punch in the gut, and Marcus fought to catch his breath; he’d yet to see such sheer desolation and hopelessness as he saw in Tyler’s blue eyes. Then Tyler laughed, and with a shake of his head and a brush of his lips against Ortiz’s temple, hurried away into the bowels of the club, leaving Marcus to wonder if he’d been mistaken.
Ortiz adjusted his crotch and leered after Tyler. Marcus shuddered, chilled and disgusted from what he’d witnessed. There was something ugly about Ortiz, and it had nothing to do with his outward appearance—he always dressed in the finest suits and thought nothing of dropping a thousand dollars a night in the club. While Marcus never personally had any unpleasant experiences with him, the rumors of Ortiz’s volatile temper followed him.
“What the fuck was that about?” he muttered, tugging down the sleeves of his stark white dress shirt. Ortiz pulled out his phone and spoke into it, gesturing in the air with angry jabs of his fingers and walking away from the spot where Tyler had left him standing.
“Looks like you’re gonna find out,” said Darius, placing his now-empty glass of water on the bar. “I’m heading back to the front. Holler if you need me.” He walked into the morass of dancing people and was swallowed up from sight.
Left somewhat unsettled, Marcus stood uncertain of his next move. As Sparks’s owner, he had a responsibility to protect his staff, and he didn’t take that lightly. Those who didn’t know him well misread his party ways and took him for a fool. They were always surprised by his sharp business acumen. He could never understand a person who thought with his dick and not his head when it came to making money. If there was one thing he learned as a child from watching his father, it was business first. Nothing else mattered.
Tyler was a grown man and could take care of himself. If he wanted to arrange a hook-up with a rich patron, who was Marcus to stop it? Hell, if it weren’t for the stupid bet, he’d have Tyler in his bed tonight. And, Tyler should expect to be hit on when he danced barely dressed in front of half-drunk clubbers.
None of his reasoning explained why, after making his rounds of the club, greeting his regulars and sharing several drinks with them, Marcus ended up in the back of Sparks where dressing rooms had been set up for the dancers to change. He didn’t bother to stand on formalities and knock before entering—it was his club, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen naked men before.
The back of a very wet and naked Tyler greeted Marcus when he pushed open the door. He’d obviously taken a shower and seemed to be done for the night, which surprised Marcus, as it was only twelve thirty and the dancers didn’t get off-shift until three a.m.
“Hi sweetie, I know it’s late and you’re asleep but I just got your message.” Tyler had his phone to his ear and seemed oblivious to Marcus’s presence as he left a voicemail. “I can’t wait to spend the day together tomorrow either. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Marcus held his breath and listened, having no compunction about spying on Tyler’s personal phone call. After all, he reasoned, Tyler should be out on the floor working, not talking to his girlfriend.
“I love you. Bye.”
Tyler placed the phone on the mirror top of the table and dropped his head in his hands.
“What a fucking mess. I knew this was a mistake.”
Marcus closed the door behind him. “But I don’t. Tell me why?”
Tyler stilled, then jerked his head up to meet Marcus’s gaze. Something strange rose in Marcus’s chest that suspiciously felt like sympathy, and once again he fell prey to the desolation in Tyler’s eyes.
In his world, business always came before pleasure, and Marcus had no second thoughts about firing people who didn’t want to work. Someone skipping out on his shift without a good reason would qualify for immediate firing.
“What are you doing here?” This was a different Tyler than the sexy, confident dancer writhing on the club floor. Marcus had a vague recollection of meeting Tyler a week or so ago and instantly being attracted to him, but had chalked that up to his perpetual hard-on from lack of sex. Plus, it didn’t hurt that the man was beautiful to look at and had seemed happy enough to be hired for the dancer position, giving Marcus a wide smile when he was told he had the job.
Tonight though, no welcoming look or smile on Tyler’s face beamed back at him. Instead, Marcus sensed an iron gate clanging shut, locking Tyler away well behind unbreachable bars. Marcus knew all about those iron gates. He lived in a fucking compound. But being the nosy bastard he was and, though he’d deny it to the death, he truly gave a shit about everyone who worked for him, he pressed onward, determined to find out what troubled Tyler so much.
“I watched you on the dance floor with Ortiz.” Marcus eased into a chair next to where Tyler stood, in front of a mirrored wall. “I know he can be a bit of a pig sometimes. I hope you weren’t overwhelmed. Did he say something offensive? Let me know, and I can have him tossed.”
An incredulous expression darkened Tyler’s silvery blue eyes. “So you’re saying you were concerned about me? Is that it?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Annoyance filtered through Marcus’s best intentions. Jesus, the guy was touchy.
Tyler’s skeptical expression and raised brow spoke volumes. “Yeah. You don’t seem like the type of guy who cares about other people’s feelings.”
Son of a bitch. Stung, Marcus struck back. “What the fuck do you know about me? You’ve been here barely a week.”
“Two hours is enough time for people to fill me in. I know you’ve screwed basically every guy who works here, and I’m not planning to be the next flavor of the week.”
Marcus couldn’t help but admire the man’s beautiful, muscled physique, including his dick. He met Tyler’s eyes in the mirror.
“Exactly. You can’t stop staring at me. All you care about is a guy’s dick and getting some.”
Marcus folded his arms and sneered back. “If you’re going to wave it in my face, I’m going to look. It’s only natural.”
Tyler reached for a pair of dance shorts and slipped them on, then faced him with his hands fisted on his hips. At least he planned to go back to work, so, Marcus thought, Tyler couldn’t be too upset about Ortiz touching him. Personally, Marcus didn’t like the thought of Ortiz touching Tyler, but attributed it up to his overall dislike of the man. He wouldn’t like Ortiz touching any of his dancers.
“The decent thing would be to look away or even knock first before coming into a dressing room. But you know we’re naked here, so you like the free show.” Tyler yanked a brush through his damp hair and pulled on his boots.
Incredulous at this unprovoked attack, Marcus tried to reason with Tyler. “What the hell is wrong with you? I came here because you’re my employee and I was concerned about your treatment. I’m not interested in your dick or your ass, which seems to have a stick up it at the moment. Don’t worry—you’re not my type.”
“I thought breathing and with a heartbeat was your type.” Tyler turned his back and headed toward the door.
Fucking hell. “Don’t think you’re going to talk bullshit to me and walk away like some fucking drama queen.” Marcus strode over to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.
Pain rocketed through his jaw, and Marcus stumbled backward. He landed hard on the floor and looked upward at a red-faced Tyler whose sharp, staccato breaths punctuated the silence of the dressing room. The floor quaked from the muffled pounding of the music. Marcus shook his head to calm the ringing in his ears. Damn. Tyler had a mean right hook.
“You may be my boss and pay me, but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t have to like you, or put up with your crap like everyone else here does.” The door slammed shut behind Tyler, leaving Marcus flat on his ass, dumbfounded.
What the hell just happened here?
Reader Reviews (2)
Submitted By: loveshake4 on Feb 29, 2016
love this series
Submitted By: Whiteoak on Feb 13, 2016
Did not enjoy this book.

Second to None

By: Felice Stevens