Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“You let me know if anything makes either of you uncomfortable.”
Gray smiled, though it seemed a tad more forced now, and eyed one of the contraptions. A wooden post with hooks along the sides.
“Let me put this behind the bar, Master.” Macklin grabbed our coats and the overnight bag from me. “Gray, walk with me. I’m gonna tell you a funny story about the time I sprained my ankle and my Owner bought me a giant chocolate Easter bunny because they were out of flowers at the hospital.”
I coughed around my surprised laugh, though I figured out what he was up to a second later. My wonderful Macklin—he knew what others needed. He was purposely using his titles for me all while including a scenario that was nothing but a sweet and funny memory for us.
Gray trailed after him with a curious little grin, leaving me alone with the man who hadn’t spoken a word so far.
“Don’t go too far, knucklehead.” Scratch that. Now he’d spoken. And Darius appeared worried for his fiancé.
“We’ll be close, honey,” Gray promised.
I cleared my throat and aimed for the other side of the bar. “You don’t have to worry about Macklin. He’ll only try to make Gray relax.”
Darius nodded with a dip of his chin and folded up the sleeves of his button-down. “It ain’t the others I’m concerned about. Gray’s… He just—I guess it will do him good to see the consensual side of this lifestyle.”
There was only a consensual side of BDSM—that was the whole point—but I understood what he meant. Whatever had happened to Gray must’ve entailed abuse of some sort.
With Macklin and Gray on one side of the bar, the men currently giving their drink orders to Penelope, Darius and I settled on the stools on this side, and we ordered beers from Gretchen, and I asked her to start a tab in my name. The tower of shelves in the middle blocked our view of the boys, but we heard them, and each laugh from Gray had a visible effect on Darius. He could unclench for the moment, at least.
“Thank you, dear.” I accepted my beer from Gretchen.
“Anytime, Sir. It’s so good to have you back, by the way.”
“It’s good to be back.” I smiled.
Darius took a swig of his beer and let his gaze wander to the kink stations around the club. He definitely struck me as a vanilla man, but looks could be deceiving. He wasn’t the easiest man to read, and maybe that was on purpose. If he was friends, possibly coworkers, with River and Reese, who knew what skills Darius possessed. He might very well be one of those private military contractors too, and they only gave away the info they were willing to share.
“I take it River and Reese won’t try to recruit you to join our community,” I said.
Darius smirked faintly and shook his head. “They know better. But I reckon it’s good exposure. I have a brother in the lifestyle too—that’s plenty.”
BDSM sure wasn’t for everyone. And hey, I could relate more to a vanilla identity now as well, all thanks to Ty. It wasn’t anything I was going to read too much into, but it was fascinating to me, nonetheless. Kink had been part of who I was for as long as I could remember, even longer than I’d been able to put words to my fantasies. But before Dean had given all those fantasies proper names, kinks, fetishes, I’d just felt odd. That’d been the identity available for me growing up. The odd man out, who not only knew early on that I was gay but who couldn’t get off to regular porn. My thoughts had always deviated and taken off in new directions.
Hence my viewing kink preferences as identities. Because they could be such a significant part of a person’s makeup, and we could have more than one. Then there was Ty. I wanted none of the kink with him. No protocol. He’d offered me a new identity in a way, and I couldn’t wait to explore it.
“So your hubby is your submissive or somethin’?” Darius asked.
I nodded. “He is. He identifies as a consensual slave. But he’s also a switch, someone who feels dominant occasionally.”
Darius lifted his brows. “How does that work?”
Oh hell, if he’d asked me this yesterday, I’d have been forced to say I had no fucking clue. But at long last, things felt wonderful. “Ethical nonmonogamy,” I answered. “We each have a secondary partner. He has a boyfriend he can boss around and go clubbing with. I have a partner I do not go clubbing with.”
“Huh.” He scratched his jaw. “I like the sound of that last part. I’m no good with sharing, though.”
It took some practice even for those of us who wanted to get there.