“One wouldn’t be enough.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I would literally have to play so rough and fuck so long thatIwas the one forgetting my own name. I’d need at least three guys and probably one woman to manage the feat.”
“Consecutively?”
“Concurrently.”
Grayson laughed harder at me, clearly not taking me seriously when I couldn’t have been anything but. There was no way I’d be able to get Hendrix out of my head for the foreseeable future. Not that I even wanted to. It was more of a preventative measure anyway. Hendrix and I had agreed to date, and even though I’d said I didn’t want to be exclusive, the appeal of sleeping—or playing—with anyone else felt extremely dirty. And not in a good way. The only thing that felt worse was the idea of him doing that. But I didn’t think I had any place asking a man I’d fucked once, whose last name I didn’t even know, to be my fucking exclusive boyfriend slash lover or whatever the hell we were both playing at.
“Come out with me,” Grayson suggested again. “Just come to have fun and if something happens, it happens.”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to see him again? Tonight?” Grayson arched a brow. He knew me too well.
“We don’t have plans.”
“Then come with me.”
“Fine.” I shoved up from the couch with a groan, knocking into him with my elbow a little harder than necessary as I went down the hall to my bedroom.
I had never been a dress-the-part Dom, like Grayson, but I changed into black jeans with a tear in the knee and a black, v-neck shirt. It was nice enough to stand against a wall and drink overpriced cocktails while I listened to other people get spanked. Which was what it seemed like my night was going to turn into. And I hated that because the whole reason I said I didn’t want to be exclusive with Hendrix was because I wasn’t interested in feeling like shit if I was interested in playing with or fucking someone else. And he’d agreed to it, and now it was the last thing I wanted to do.
Maybe the ambiance of the club would change my mind.
Doubted it, but I was willing to try.
I met up with Grayson in the living room and he frowned at my clothes, but didn’t say a word.
“Are you wearing your boots?” he asked just as I leaned down for my sneakers.
“Did you want me to?”
“It would be a nice look.”
I huffed, grabbing my boots instead. “You’re the only one who cares about appearances.”
“Just get dressed, Miles.”
I plucked at the neck of my shirt. “I’m dressed. And I’m driving myself.”
“No.” Grayson tried to snatch my keys, but fell short. “If you drive, you’ll leave.”
“Leaving alone is better than being stuck watching you string a twink up to the rafters.”
“Depends on who you ask.” He smirked, but grabbed his own keys.
“I’ll follow you there,” I promised.
The drive to Pasadena was tedious, as it always was, and Rapture was undoubtedly an amazing club, but also nowhere near where I wanted to be. I gave my ID to the bouncer and answered all of their questions, then followed Grayson into the massive space built around the bones of a church. There were still stained glass panels in the walls, and the neon club lighting cast a glow onto the floor like the spiritual scenes had come to life. Judging by the sounds that echoed from the choir loft, somewhere, they had.
“The downstairs is less kinky,” Grayson shouted over the music. I nodded as we stepped up to the bar for drinks. He flagged down a bartender and greeted the man by name, ordering us both beers. I needed something stronger, but if he was paying, I wasn’t going to argue.
“Were you meeting someone here or prowling like the old gay you are?” I teased, turning with my drink to survey the crowd on the dance floor.
“Prowling is such a crass way to say it,” he admonished. “But I didn’t have plans, no. Did you want to go see the upstairs?”
“Are we allowed?”
“Look, but don’t touch,” he said. “Remember, the only rule is…”
