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Bad Boy Billionaires #3 - The Vegas Shark

By:Ryan Field

Ryan Field - Bad Boy Billionaires #3 - The Vegas Shark

The Vegas Shark (Bad Boy Billionaires #3)
Ryan Field

erotica/billionaire



Chapter One

Whenever Treston had a man of his own, he felt special in a way that gave him both hope for the future and peace of mind about his sordid past. In his own innocent way, he truly believed life was all about peace, love, hope, and change.

Treston loved being in love. If he had a man in his life, he smiled more often, spoke with a softer tone, and even tended to walk down the street with a lighter step.

It didn't matter he'd only known most of the men he'd been in love with a few weeks. It mattered even less Treston had felt this way so many times he'd lost count. Each time he fell in love with a new man, he told himself it would be different and all his troubles were finally over. He truly believed the right man would change everything. But more than that, there were no lengths to which he would not go to please his man.

By the time he met Harlan Rocks, Treston was twenty-five years old and had already been through so many men he was beginning to wonder if something might be wrong with him. He'd fallen in love with semi-pro athletes who scratched their crotches and spit on public sidewalks. He'd fallen in love with older men, younger men, and even a few married men. He tried not to think too often about the Catholic priest he'd fallen in love with two years earlier. The priest eventually chose God over him, and this made Treston feel like hitting himself over the head with a two-by-four for getting involved with a priest in the first place. But Harlan Rocks was different. This time Treston knew he'd found the true love of his life and nothing could stand in the way of his happiness.

At the time, he was working in a small, all-male strip club in Vegas called The Male Room, where he did all kinds of things most people would have considered questionable at best to make a living. On the night he met Harlan, Treston had been dancing alone in a cage at the end of a long bar. He'd just broken up with his most recent boyfriend, Brent, an amateur gonzo porn star, and he hadn't been in the mood to smile, dance, or take off his clothes for anyone. The only reason he was there at all had more to do with paying the rent than shaking his body around for other men. He was already three weeks behind and his landlord was ready to kick him out. And he hated to take money from the modest savings account he'd been keeping for that proverbial rainy day.

The moment he glanced down and saw Harlan looking up at him, he felt a tug in his heart. All the drama of losing Brent disappeared and he sent the dark handsome man sitting at the bar below him a smile. Then he concentrated on moving his hips in a more exaggerated, seductive way, arching his back, spreading his legs wider. He started to smile more and a rush of excitement filled his body. He forgot about everyone else in the club and concentrated on looking at the dark-haired man for the rest of the night. 

By the time Treston's shift was over, Harlan stood up and helped him climb out of the cage. Treston ignored all the other men who had been watching him dance in nothing but a silver glitter thong and he continued to focus on Harlan as if he were the only man in the room.

Though he knew it was against the rules for the male strippers to actually touch the customers, he checked to make sure his boss wasn't watching and then he set both palms on Harlan's wide shoulders. Harlan was wearing a black leather jacket, with a white shirt and tight faded jeans. He also wore sunglasses and Treston couldn't actually see his eyes. As he braced his hands on Harlan's shoulders and Harlan reached for his waist, he jumped off the stage in his bare feet and said, "Thanks so much for helping me down. You're a very big, strong man."

One of the other customers tried to grab Treston's naked ass, but Harlan grabbed the guy's arm and pushed it away. He scowled at him and spoke through clenched teeth. "Don't touch unless you have permission, you old fuckwad." The guy who'd grabbed Treston had to be at least seventy years old, carrying the creep flag as high as he could.

This unsolicited act of chivalry sent a thrill up the back of Treston's legs and he leaned forward to kiss his new hero on the cheek. "Thanks so much. I hate when the customers touch me that way. They aren't supposed to touch me at all." Then he lowered his head and glanced up at Harlan with the most innocent expression he could manage. He really didn't mind when the men touched him and grabbed him; he was so used to it he rarely even noticed when it happened. But he didn't want Harlan to know that.

Harlan squared his shoulders and said, "Don't you worry about it. I'll kick anyone's ass who tries to fuck around with you." He still had his hands on Treston's waist and he'd moved close enough now for Treston to feel his erection pushing through the front of his jeans against Treston's naked pelvis. "I'm Harlan Rocks."

Treston spoke in a soft, low tone, just barely loud enough for Harlan to hear. "I'm Treston Fair Leigh," he said. His real name was Ernie Schlepper; he'd made up a stage name when he'd started working at the club. He glanced to the right and saw his boss glaring at him. "I should go backstage now and get dressed before I get into trouble. I'm not supposed to socialize with the customers this way."

Harlan squeezed his waist tighter and said, "I'll wait here for you."

After that, they went back to Treston's small apartment and made love for two days in a row without bothering to shower, eat, or leave the apartment for anything. From what little Treston could manage to get out of Harlan, he learned his new love had just arrived in town and he was looking to start a whole new life. This was the kind of man who had always excited Treston the most. Men who picked up and moved to new cities and started new lives were not only the best lovers but also the ones who tended to ignore what Treston did for a living.

At least, that's how it worked in the beginning with Harlan. But during the second week, Harlan brought a man back to the apartment and he pulled Treston into the bathroom so they could speak alone. Treston was so tired that night from dancing a double shift at the club that he could barely move his arms. He'd just learned how to do a new act on the stage that involved a ping-pong ball shooter and ping-pong balls-the customers liked him because he came up with new and innovative ideas all the time that set him apart from other male strippers-and his knees were killing him from being down on all fours for so long. "I'm going to bed now. I hope you don't mind if I don't sit up with you and your buddy."




 

 

Harlan grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He was wearing the dark glasses again and Treston couldn't look into his eyes. "You've got to do me a favor tonight. This dude out there wants me to pay him and I'm fucking broke. We were playing cards and I lost. So I managed to convince him I could pay him another way … instead of with money. Could you do me this favor?"

"I'm not sure I understand," Treston said.

"I told him you'd suck him off. I told him you have the best fucking mouth in Vegas, that you swallow, and you'd take good care of him. He said if you gave him a good blow job he'd let me off the hook this time. You have to help me out, man, and you have to do this."

Although Treston had done things like this with men for money before, this was the first time a boyfriend had ever asked him to suck a guy off. At first, he felt a sting in his chest and he wanted to punch Harlan in the gut. But when he looked into Harlan's dark sunglasses and caught a glimpse of his brown eyes, and he saw the way Harlan was pleading with him, he shrugged and said, "Let me take a shower first. Tell him I'll be right out." One more blow job with a total stranger certainly wouldn't hurt him. He liked dick and one more wouldn't change his life.

Harlan slapped his ass and said, "You're the best. I swear I'm going to buy you a ring and we'll get married soon."

"Do you mean that?" Treston asked. He started to jump up and down, and threw his arms around Harlan's shoulders and hugged him.

Harlan remained emotionless; he didn't even lift his arms to return the hug. "Sure, I mean it," he said, with a slight laugh. "I'll fucking marry you like those gay guys got married on TV. I'll make an honest little fag out of you, sweet lips."

When Harlan called him a fag, Treston didn't take offense. In fact, it turned him on in a way he found hard to explain. If he'd been walking down the street and someone had called him a pejorative like that he would have told them to go fuck themselves. But when Harlan called him a fag he only wanted to swing from Harlan's big shoulders and do bad things. "When can we do it? We have to get rings. I know just the place. It's a little jewelry store I've been passing on the way to work for a year. They have gay wedding bands in the window and I stop and stare at them every day."

Harlan slapped his ass and laughed again. "We'll talk about it more later. Right now you've got a dick to suck. Go brush your teeth and wash your face."

If it had only been the one time, Treston wouldn't have minded at all. But after that night, Harlan started bring more men around and he always gave Treston the same old story, or one similar to it. One night he came home with three drunken college guys he said he'd met on the strip and he'd promised them he'd hook them up with the best sex they'd ever had for the right price. 

Treston was already in bed, listening to the one song in the world that could put him to sleep after a long night at the strip club: You Are My Sunshine. No one had sung him this song when he'd been a child. No one had ever sung him a lullaby of any kind. As a child he'd gone to bed alone most of the time because his mother had worked in an all-night strip club just like the one where he worked now. And he'd never known who his father was because his mother had never been quite sure.

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