Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
It makes me laugh to hear him say that. I pull back so I can see his face. “Did they really?”
He gives me a deadpan look. I kiss his cheek. “I think you’re lying.”
He walks me back, then shoves my shoulders lightly as his eyes run over me. “I think you want to be had.”
I laugh, and his teeth catch my throat.
“Mr. Rayne. You’ve been a very bad man.”
I roll with it, because hell yeah, I fucking have been. I’m hard enough to hurt by the time he locks my arms above my head and straddles me on the bed upstairs.
“What should I do to you, Vance?”
“I don’t know.” I’m lying, though. As I say it, I’m lifting my hips, making my erection bob. His hand closes around it. “Bouncing around, are we? Maybe you would like to bounce on something else.”
“Or maybe you would.” I stroke him through his jeans. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe not, though…”
“What?” I ask softly.
There’s this kink club in San Francisco. Years ago, I went there with this girl I know—to whip her.
“I don’t even know if this place is still open.” I unzip his jeans, and his thick cock bobs down and out, straining at his boxer briefs. I work my palm around his head, and he pumps me, too.
“What kind of place?”
“It’s this masked fuck place. Might be way too risky, but you wear hoods. Like, everybody does. It’s really strict.”
He moves off me and zips himself up. “Yeah, I know of that place. Switch.” He says the word like it’s something ominous, which makes me smile.
“How do you know of it, choir boy?”
Color stains his cheekbones. I laugh, delighted. “Have you been there?”
He gives me a deadpan look.
“Do you think it’s safe for you to go?”
* * *
Luke
It isn’t safe, of course, but nothing is now. And I want to go out with him. The biggest question is whether my gait and build are recognizable with my face covered. I don’t think they are.
“What is it like there?” I ask. “Private rooms?”
His brows lift, like he’s surprised I would even know to ask that question.
“There are. Yeah. That’s what we should do, if we go.”
We’re in the Prius twenty minutes later, both wearing black shirts and pants, with a bag in the backseat of the car. Vance’s jeans are so tight, I can see the outline of his cockhead as he drives.
“You going in that way?” I nod at it.
He gives me a lazy grin. “You want to show me off?”
The opposite is true. I don’t want any eyes on him but mine. I don’t say that, though. If he thinks I’m jealous, when he goes back to New York, he might avoid having his picture taken. I want to see pictures of him. I need every picture, even though I know that it will make me sick.
He parks two blocks away from the club and pulls the bag he packed into his lap while I pull on the mask he wears when he’s around paint fumes. It’s kind of like an N95 mask, but it’s made of fabric. Lots of people wear them on public transport abroad.
“Will you be recognized?” I ask him. I hadn’t thought of that.
He takes my hand and gives me a smile. “Nah. I’m not that big time.”
What I want to ask him is how many times he’s been here. And with whom. His hand squeezes mine, though, and I let myself just be in the moment, next to him.
We walk down the street, past someone juggling neon balls and some people sitting at some kind of booth. It’s busy for a Thursday night. We weave between people, keeping shoulder to shoulder. I think of him leaving the club that night I called from Tokyo…walking toward his house. I squeeze his hand, and his eyes move over my face.
“You look dashing in that mask, Sky.”
He looks dashing. His hair’s chin length, and tonight, the breeze tosses it back behind him. Time has hardened his features, made him even more beautiful. His chiseled features make him look a little like he could be a model. But they’re not what I like most. He gives me another small smile, and his free hand reaches over to close over our joined ones.
“All good, my dude?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.”
The club is in an unadorned building. We enter through a door in the back and step into a dimly lit hall. Within seconds, a woman in a black teddy and a cat mask appears, holding a tablet.
Her eyes move over Vance…and then fix on me. I think I can see her brows clench behind her mask. For a second, I think I might lose it. Then she hands us both hoods.
“Where would you like to go, sirs?”
I realize she was assessing us to see if one’s the sub.