“Mutual consent,” I finished for him, quoting the bouncer who’d checked my ID at the door.
We climbed the stairs to the play loft, which overlooked the dance floor and the bar below. There was a long and dark hallway with doors that were all closed. Everything was painted black and it was all painfully kinky and mysterious if you were into the show of it all. I had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in that I liked to fuck in public, and sometimes in front of my friends, but I’d never cared to play in such a public venue. Grayson thrived on the attention, but I indulged him because rope work often deserved an audience.
For all the rooms that lined the hall, there was an open play space with plush leather couches—also black—and a small stage tucked into the corner with a St. Andrew’s cross on it. Some people milled around making conversation, sharing drinks and secrets. I couldn’t tell who’d come together and who was getting ready to, and I could tell by the vibe, Grayson was going to have a great night.
My skin prickled with the anticipation and promise that always came from nights like that. With the chance of meeting someone new, the excitement of taking someone’s clothes off for the first time, all of those self-assured touches, whether they be hard or soft. I loved it. I lived for it.
But Hendrix wasn’t there and he was the only man I wanted to touch, the only man I wanted to bring pleasure and pain, and I knew I had to revoke the non-exclusive clause from our agreement before he got any ideas about stepping into a place like this and letting another man touch him.
“I need to go.” I poured the rest of my drink down my throat and chucked the bottle into a nearby trash can. Rapture was great, but I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to go home and I wanted to go next door, and I wanted to strip Hendrix down, tie him to a chair, and have my way with him.
“You’re boring,” Grayson accused, rolling his eyes. He clearly had no fucking clue what I’d been thinking about because my brain had been channeled into anythingbutboring since Friday night.
“There’s no one here that interests me.”
“You haven’t even looked.”
“I’ve seen plenty. I already know how this night is going to go.”
He scoffed, so I continued, “I know you’re going to shoot your shot with the redhead on the couch. He’s been eye-fucking you since we came upstairs. He’s going to flirt and play hard to get and you’re going to love that. You’re going to find some rope and you’re going to tie his pretty little hands behind his back and he’s going to turn as pink as a strawberry when you let him kiss your dick.”
Grayson glanced toward the couch against the back wall, mouth twitching into a smirk when he saw the redhead in question.
“He does look like he knows how to kiss a dick,” he murmured.
“And as much as I would love to watch that, and as much as his little friend looks like an absolute fucking treat who could suck start a motorcycle if given the chance…” I flicked my stare toward the redhead’s friend, a blond waif who looked like the last hookup I’d had before Hendrix, but with 100% less self-confidence. “There’s unfortunately only one mouth I want around my cock tonight.”
“You’re in deep with the neighbor, aren’t you?”
I gave my best friend a somber nod. “I am, and if all goes well, I’ll be deepinhim again later tonight. So have fun with the ginger, and don’t bother waiting up. I’m going home.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Hendrix
I pulled backthe edge of the curtain, the far corner of my driveway still cast in shadow because the porch light of the house next door wasn’t on. The house next door being Miles’s house, of course. And the porch light wasn’t on because Miles wasn’t home. He’d left an hour ago with his roommate, who was dressed so specifically, I knew exactly what they were up to and most likely where they were going.
“Are you listening to me?” Wesley whined into the phone and I let the curtain fall closed. Pacing through the house to my back yard, checking for signs of life through the fence, even though I knew there’d be none and then repeating the walk as I had been for the past half hour.
“I’m listening,” I lied.
“So I can come visit?”
Back in my living room, I pulled the curtain aside.
“What do Mom and Dad say?” I asked.
“They don’t care because I’m not a teenager anymore.”
“You know they’d have you in a chokehold if you hadn’t have moved into your own apartment freshman year.”
A car turned onto the street and I stepped back, letting the curtain fall into place again.
A glass of wine sat untouched on the coffee table, the opening credits for a movie one of my coworkers had told me about was paused on the TV. I’d begrudgingly accepted Miles’s casual dismissiveness during our texting over the weekend, but once I accidentally saw him leaving, I hadn’t been able to muster the interest in anything besides acting completely out of character for myself by obsessing over his comings and goings.
Friday night, we’d barely talked, but we’d also saidsomuch. We had agreed to date, but not exclusively, and I didn’t know what dating looked like to someone his age, but for me it was more than just well-scheduled sex fests. Not that I would have minded another of those. The sex we’d had was some of the best of my life. The way Miles touched and commanded me with absolute certainty was extremely attractive, proving that the only real kink I still harbored was competence. He was talented with his cock, even more so with his mouth, and I would have been lying if I didn’t admit I wanted more of him.
There shouldn’t have been any problem with him going out. It was a weeknight, and I was trying not to judge him for that, but come on. I was right here. Right next door to him and clearly more than willing. It bothered me that he was going out, my ego wounded from being cast aside so quickly.
