It’sthe first wake-up text I’ve gotten all week and the idiotic grin it prompts is seriously ridiculous.
And, yeah, Imayhave made a couple more videos last night when Jazz didn’t get back to me about my “homework.” What can I say? It was early and I was bored, and after watchingthe earlier video it was almost like I had this compulsion to see myself doing something even more depraved. Which is how I ended up riding one of the—yes, rather expensive—throw pillows, and then, later, jerking off and emptying my load onto the pillow my head is now resting on.
Me
Not anymore…
Jazz Grimsay
Naughty boy
These are some interesting feelings you’ve uncovered… I especially like “The sluttiest slut who’s ever slutted” and “bitch in heat”
And I’m honored to have starred in your fantasy
I roll my eyes. His fucking ego. I’d have preferred not to reveal that detail but the video wouldn’t have made sense without the context.
Me
Of course you would be honored to be cast as an attempted murderer
Jazz Grimsay
You cast me as your Dom dirty boy. It’s right there on the list—you want to submit
Yeah, there really is no denying it anymore, is there?
8
“Oh my god, is that Jazz?”Ava asks Jamie in a theatrical whisper as the man in question approaches our table at Whiskey Tango Foxtrot—because, of course, this is where the twins decided they wanted to spend their Friday night. “You were right, he’ssuper hot!”
Jazz’s brows shoot up. “Weird, but I’ll take it.”
“What do you all want to drink?” I ask the table.
They each give me their drink orders and I start rising from my chair, but I’m halted by a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Damon, relax. It’s your day off,” Jazz says genially, his fingers clasping my shoulder to keep me in place.
I barely manage to stifle a groan at the feel of his tight grip, my thoughts flying back to the one other time I’ve felt his hands on me—that “demonstration” on Wednesday night. I shudder as I recall the way he trapped me against the wall, his hand grinding against my crotch, the rough grip of my hair...“I could shove you to your knees…”
And suddenly I’m rock hard as my brain fills with images of Jazz manhandling me and restraining me and physically dominating me in ways I can’t even think of, mingled with memories of that intense fantasy I had last night.
The feel of Jazz’s hand squeezing my shoulder again draws me out of my daze just in time to field the question Blake is directing my way.
“You want a beer as well, D? We’re getting that pale ale you’ve got on tap.”
I nod. “Yeah, thanks. Sounds good.”
“Is that everyone?” Jazz asks, releasing his grip of my shoulder.
The question is met with nods and murmurs of assent. He gives us a thumbs up and starts to walk away backwards. “I’ll be back in a minute. Chloe’s floating around if you guys want food, or there’s the QR code on the table.”
Once he’s gone, I turn my attention to the other side of the table where Ava and Jamie are locked in a hushed discussion that I’m assuming is about Jazz based on the not-so-furtive glances Ava keeps darting at the bar.
I roll my eyes, shaking my head in exasperation. I really hope they’re just discussing song requests or something because my situation is weird enough without my teenage daughter getting a crush on the guy I’ve become unnaturally obsessed with.
Optingto re-direct my kids’ attention, I say, “So, Blake’s pretty sure he’ll be able to get tickets to the hockey tomorrow if you guys are interested.”
