You lucky fucking dog.
Aiden
?
Morrison
LINK
Aiden
What’s that to?
Morrison
The club you’re taking me to the first chance I get to visit.
I made sure the sound on my phone was off before clicking the link. You couldn’t trust Shane Morrison with knowing what you should and shouldn’t text or when.
The link opened to a website with only a logo and a place to enter your name and birth date. I backed further away from the doorway before clicking anything else. Then, I decided just to call him.
Squeezing through the onslaught of people coming into the locker room still, I turned away from the breakfast my stomach growled for and headed to the only place I knew I could grab some privacy. Moments later, I shut myself in Coach’s office. The exact same one I got caught sleeping in all those years ago.
I hit the call button as soon as I dropped onto the couch, the phone ringing loudly in my ear before Morrison answered.
“Did you see?” he asked as the video chat request popped up on the screen and rang in my ear.
Rolling my eyes as I answered, I said, “No. I was in the locker room,” when his face filled my screen.
“Was being the operative word. Click it now.”
I cleared my throat and reopened the browser on my phone. The website popped up. After entering my birth date, a banner for a BDSM club flashed on the screen. A needy groan filled my chest, and blood rushed south, making me thankful I was alone and seated when the photo under it loaded.
The black-and-white image of a guy, on his knees, head down, eyes closed, and bound in an intricate pattern of black ropes, filled the screen. Beautiful was the only word that came to mind. Utterly breathtaking. And while I wasn’t into bondage for myself, the image was still seriously hot. I couldn’t imagine having restraints like that, especially not for as long as it took to do the rope work pictured.
“What the hell, man? This isn’t anything like what I’m into.”
He should know this. We’d bonded over hockey in high school and then again in JUCO when we realized we were both into older men and kink. He leaned toward the more hardcore stuff, and I was okay with some of it, but being tied up like the guy on the website? Yeah, no thanks. A spanking, choking, really rough rapefucking? Absolutely, sign me up, and put my name at the top of the list, but I had no desire to wear restraints.
Ever.
“Dude, peel back the damn curtains and take a look around. They have dedicated nights for the stuff you like. Specifically, Daddy/boy nights that aren’t only for littles.”
Biting my lip, my gaze darted around the room, double-checking I was still alone. Even though no one came in since I had, and I’d locked the door behind me. At least I think I did.
I clicked on some links before landing on the upcoming events page. Sure enough, there it was, just as he said. Morrison continued rattling away in my ear, talking about his buddy who played for the Nighthawks, who was a member of the club in Nashville like this one. Then he talked about the membership fee. And my heart plummeted.
I didn’t have money for that. Coach and Anya paid all my bills. They were my parents, yes, but they hadn’t always been. Before Coach found me squatting in his office, I’d lived on the streets as a runaway foster kid. Taking their money, even if they offered it, felt… weird. Like bugs creeping around under my skin, weird. So, I did my best not to spend money on things I didn’t actually need.
My eyes widened at the membership costs when I clicked the link.
“Aiden? You still there?”
“Man, this place is way outta my price range.”
“It’s because of the privacy shit, dude. With the major league teams in the area, I’d say they cater to some high-end clientele.”
Not that expensive for a kid who drove a luxury sports car and wore jeans that cost more than a week at some of the roach motels the hookers turned tricks out of in my old neighborhood. I didn’t say that, though.
