PD’s smile was still tinged with fury. “It’s not like Barnes can fuckin’ fight or anything.”
King laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “Fuck no, not like you can. That was good.”
“Fine me, King. I don’t care. He fucking deserved that. He spreads rumors about my business again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”
King nodded and glared at the mess behind the bar. “You’re both fined. But maybe I have a couple hundred dollars that will find its way into the club account under your name.”
PD shook his head and smiled, but he still looked ready to follow Barnes and finish the job.
“Fascinating as this is, King, I normally charge by the hour.” I fought not to allow feelings to creep into me while I stared at his too handsome face.
King smirked at me and squared his shoulders with a wink. “Don’t I know it, you fuck. And people think I’m the criminal.”
“You are as innocent as a newborn babe, lying on white silk in a cloud bank, and I’ll argue it till my dying breath.” I trailed after him back the hall toward his office. He chuckled and sent me a look full of pure mischief.
Immediately suspicious, I stopped and sighed as he pushed open his office door because I could hear a faint moaning before I even stepped inside. But as soon as I entered the room… well, I can’t say I was shocked, but I was breathtakingly jealous, that’s for sure.
The desk across the room was normal for an office. The fireplace behind it had a low fire burning and wafts of woodsmoke tinged the air. No, that was all par for the course. Low buzzing sawed through the air and raised goose bumps on my arms. Blindfolded and gagged on the couch, King’s thing of the week was tied up, and even I had to admit he was very pretty as he writhed in place. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he was a boy from the Courtesan. Tall and blond, his pink lips were stretched wide around a ball gag, and my stomach heated because it was impossible to see that and not think about what his mouth would look like stuffed full of cock.
As far as I knew, King had never had a boyfriend, but given the kinky sight, I’d be willing to volunteer as a test dummy—dummybeing the keyword there.
The man tried to still when he heard us come into the room; the furrow on his brow and the way he stiffened made his struggle clear. The crisp black rope restraining him cut into his lightly tanned chest in a beautiful knotwork pattern that was more like art than restraint, and his hard-on was a stiff peak at his crotch, pushing out the black leather pants he wore. He was a fucking visual masterpiece, and the way King stared without blinking at him made me think he agreed.
“I didn’t realize you knew how to do fancy tricks.”
King chuckled, and the sound slid around the room, dark and evil, just the way I loved to hear it. “Tim did a little demonstration for me.”
“May I ask, what is that buzzing sound?”
King waggled his eyebrows and tugged his phone free of his pocket. He did something with it and the man stiffened, straining all over and shaking his head back and forth while he lightly thrust his hips forward—but there was nothing for him to rub against. Lust punched me in the gut, hot and warm, and I gasped with it. King gave me a small smirk. The fucker knew what I liked, too. “Toy. It vibrates.”
“I wonder, whose idea was the kink club over Black Out? Yours or Undertaker’s?”
King laughed. The man strained and trembled. Sweat made him gleam. The wavering light from the fire cast his naked skin in a beautiful warm glow. The buzzing stopped abruptly and King’s tied-up guest collapsed against the red leather couch, shaking his head, trying to say something around the gag that sounded very irate.
“Patience,” King said and walked over to poke at his hip with the toe of his boot. The man whimpered, and a predatory stillness stopped King in his tracks. He almost seemed like he was about to pounce. Before he could get distracted, I pulled out a folder from my briefcase.
“Signatures. Now, please. Tick tock.”
“For?” King glanced at me, but unlike most people, he didn’t allow me to get under his skin. He seemed to take me at face value, and never took my directness as an insult. That was part of the reason I liked to hang out at the clubhouse. I wasn’t judged. Instead, I was appreciated.
“Deed transfer.”
King frowned, and it belatedly occurred to me that he had enough shady deals going on, he may not remember this one specifically. “For that warehouse by the airport you wanted me to go after on your behalf? The seller jumped on your offer. Your real estate agent doesn’t like me, by the way. She thinks I’m, and I’m quoting here, ‘a relentless fucking asshole.’ Do I even want to know what the building will be used for?”
“Nope.” He winked at me.
“Fantastic.”
King sauntered over to the desk, and I could tell his thoughts were miles away from me, which was fine, but I couldn’t stop shooting glances at his boy toy. King noticed and got a very smug expression that was easy to recognize on any Dom:appreciate what belongs to me and be jealous of what you can’t have. Primitive instincts every man seemed to possess—wanting to have something to toss in someone else’s face. My cheeks burned and I looked away from him as I handed off the paperwork. I wanted someone to get that look over me, be proud to have me, but at the rate I was going it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. That urge to go out and find a gutter to crawl into, symbolically or literally, intensified.
Less than a minute later, King was shooing me back out of his office with all the signatures I needed, while he did something with his phone that had the whore nearly screaming on that couch again, all from across the room. With the impressive wood King had going on, though, I figured the blondie would be screaming for a different reason soon.
The dirtiest part of me wanted to linger by the door after King closed and locked it in my face, see if I could pinpoint the exact moment when those needy sounds from the sub—they were loud enough to be heard clearly through the door—transformed from sex-toy induced to causation by a cock. But if I wanted to get into my own trouble tonight, I should go.
Shivering all over, I forced myself to leave and made my way out to the barroom, just in time to walk directly behind PD and use both hands to stop him from toppling to the floor. My briefcase fell with a clatter that was a far better sound than the fleshy clunk of a person. It was all coincidence, but like much of my life, I found myself at the right place and time. PD glanced up at me like I was the Flash. Hunter and Josh gave me big shiny anime character eyes from behind the bar—their gratitude was that clear. I felt both pleased and foolish all at the same time.
“You’re bleeding,” PD said as he let me right him onto his barstool.
