Death by C*ck by Susan Mac Nicol

Author:Susan Mac Nicol
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay fiction, private investigators, contemporary romantic suspense, secrets and lies, crimes of passion, male male romance, a grisly murder, deception and danger, london fetish alley, the police ask tate and clay to lead the investigation
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group

Chapter 8

The nightclub in Graffiato Animé was down in the basement of the house that served as the formal club. Access was gained via a set of huge wooden doors, inset with peepholes.

Tate and Clay had been admitted entrance half an hour ago, after Clay airily waved a note at the bouncer. It was a handwritten one from Aurelio allowing them free entry instead of paying the twenty-pound entrance fee. Tate had grinned to himself at that. Clay had no problem digging deep into his pockets to leave homeless people money, but he baulked at paying what he called an exorbitant entry fee when the owner happened to be a personal friend.

His lover was a mass of contradictions.

Tate now watched in fascination and horror as a woman clad in a tight Lycra bodysuit twirled above him. She was suspended from a chain fixed to the nightclub’s ceiling with only the hooks in her shoulder blades and back keeping her there. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that felt like other than it must fucking hurt.

Even Clay looked a little green. “Jesus,” he shouted over the music. “That’s not something you see every day. When Relio said tonight was a full-on fetish event, I had no idea I’d be seeing that.” He scrunched his eyes up in concentration. “I mean, how the hell does she not tear the hell out of her body?”

The nightclub was humming, packed to the rafters with people of all shapes, sizes, and proclivities. Trance music blared from a stage filled with equipment and lights, the DJ rocking it bare chested with the biggest mohawk Tate had ever seen.

People milled around in various costumes and attire, and the club seemed somewhat edgier than some Tate had been to, but it wasn’t all unusual.

Saying that…Tate’s eyes bugged as a particularly large man dressed in nothing but leather chaps and a large semi-hard cock pierced with various metal doo-dahs brushed past him with a sly, inviting smile. Tate ignored the man’s beckoning finger and sultry lick of his lips and aloofly averted his gaze back to the woman above.

Clay laughed. “I think he fancies you.” He came closer, murmuring in Tate’s ear as his fingers brushed Tate’s. “Fancy a leather daddy?”

Tate shook his head. “I’ve got all the leather daddy I need right here.” His hand reached out to lightly cup Clay’s balls under the leather trousers he wore. “I’m pretty sure we have a pair of chaps like those at home. Maybe a little role play wouldn’t go amiss.”

He smiled at Clay’s hissed “Jesus” as he gave one last squeeze to Clay’s groin. Not for the first time his gaze travelled over Clay. When his lover had come out of the bedroom wearing a tight pair of deep brown leather trousers, showing every line of his cock (which was tucked snugly to the left), and sporting a bronze mesh cut-off shirt, through which rosy nipples protruded, Tate had wanted to fuck Clay there and then. He’d seen Clay dressed for clubs before, but never quite as sexy or commanding as he looked now.

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