The Full Ride by Gavin Atlas

Author:Gavin Atlas [Atlas, Gavin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-01-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2: The Vegas Club

Burt kissed Drew on the forehead, making Drew conscious of how sweaty they both were. “That was a hot number, little man,” Burt said. “Maybe better than that Parker Stevenson at the Tuscany. I hope the cameras caught it all this time.”

Drew never liked discussing the hidden cameras. Why didn’t Burt ever consider the trouble they could cause? “I’m glad you had fun. But when they’re rough, you need to prove you’re rougher and—”

“And that’s what was so hot about it!”

“Hand me my pants, Burt?”

“Nah, little man. I want you to stay naked. I might want it again.”

“My stomach’s hurting, though.”

“What? Are you sick?” Burt asked.

“Nah, I have a sensitive tummy.”

Burt poked Drew softly in the stomach. “My poor baby,” he said. Drew figured Burt should have known by now that “my stomach is hurting” was code for “you’ve pissed me off, and now I’m not in the mood.”

“Can we talk about the plan, Burt? Are you looking at properties?”

Burt laughed. Drew watched Burt’s rolls of fat jiggle and suppressed judgment. “We still have a lot to go.”

“We’re on the letter V. The last is the Wynn.” Drew reached down and retrieved a binder from under the bed. Burt laughed again when he saw it, but there was no mirth in it.

“Little man’s all business. Did I mention the Thunderbird re-opened as the Aruba? We still have to do that,” said Burt.

“That’s under, what do you call it, Addendum Two.”

“And the South Coast. That should open next year.” Burt pushed the papers from Drew’s hands and started kissing him. Drew inched away.

“The South Coast isn’t part of the written agreement, Burt.” It wasn’t, was it? Dyslexia sucked.

“But it will be fun.” Burt went for Drew’s mouth again. “And the Golden Palm and the Mardi Gras aren’t in the agreement, but we have to do them, too.”

“Burt, why? There were seventy-three on that website and now we only have six more. The Venetian, The godforsaken Western, The—”

“Little man, calm down.” Burt sat up and looked down at his hands.

“How about I give you the Golden Palm and the Mardi Grad and skip the Western?”

“Handsome, I’m not liking how this feels. Is this all business?”

Drew bit his lip. He rubbed Burt’s shoulder as an image of Rahim, whom he shouldn’t be thinking about, scolded him for being crazy materialistic.

“I need a kiss,” Burt said, pouting. Drew turned his neck to meet Burt’s lips. “That’s better,” Burt said. “You know it hurts my feelings that this is all about the casino.”

But it wasn’t. Burt didn’t know that? “You said I couldn’t fall in love. Because of your wife, it had to be strictly sex.” Rules, procedures, contracts. Shouldn’t sex just be fun? And then, if you do your best to make a man happy and be a good boy, maybe he’ll give you presents?

Burt grabbed Drew’s ass. “While I will never tire of fucking you if I could have this every day for a thousand years, it would be…nice to be loved.

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