A rush of heady anticipation surges through me; I’ve just given him the green light to taunt me with his inappropriate songs in front of my entire family—including my kids. And I’m actually excited about it.
“Ava hasa challenge as well,” Jamie announces, drawing Jazz’s attention.
“I do?” she asks, looking a little stunned.
Jamie leans in to whisper something in her ear, prompting her to smile and nod.
“Oh, right, yep—Celine Dion.”
Jazz’s brows creep up. “This is quite an eclectic table.”
“But if you think you can’t manage it…” Jamie teases.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I can manage it,” Jazz says with a cocky grin. “But now I’d better get back to helping Gia out. Everyone okay for drinks?”
We order another round and Jazz returns to the bar, this time sending Chloe over once the drinks are ready.
Blake and I are in the middle of a conversation about the tickets for tomorrow’s game when a hubbub of excitement sweeps through the bar, catching up Ava and Jamie along the way.
I notice Joel rolling his eyes at Ava’s enthusiasm, while Shay gazes at Jamie with fond amusement.
Jazz takes a few minutes once he’s on stage to get himself organized and test his equipment, then he settles on his stool in front of the microphone, his guitar in his lap. I’m expecting him to open with one of the requests from our table, but I suppose I should have known he’d be contrary.
The second I hear the opening riff of “Creep” by Radiohead a thrill rushes through me and I have to work not to react. My eyesclash with Jazz’s for the briefest of moments and he offers me a teasing smirk before glancing down at his guitar as he starts to sing. He’s not brazenly staring at me today; perhaps out of deference to my kids, or perhaps because he doesn’t have to. I don’t need to feel his eyes on me to know this song was chosen specifically for me.
It’s a completely ridiculous thought but it almost feels like I’m being rewarded for my boldness.
And yeah,I know how crazy it is to be using the word “reward” when less than a week ago I would have been crawling out of my skin with agitation from this kind of attention. It’s pretty incredible what a little mental adjustment can do, and I can see now why Jazz has been so insistent on me sorting out my shit.
He follows “Creep” up with Chris Isaak’s “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing”, and then “Nasty” by Janet Jackson and, needless to say, I’m hard as stone by the time it occurs to me that he may very well be intending to target me for an entire set.
I somehow manage not to groan out loud as I consider the possibility of sitting here with my family for another forty-fiveminutes while my Dom—fuck, that’s what he is, isn’t he?—sings song after song reminding me of all the filthy, depraved behavior I’ve engaged in over the past week and how much I’ve fuckinglovedit.
Dom. Jazz is my Dom. I marvel at how easy andrightthat label feels and mentally slap myself for fighting so hard against it. Whether intentionally or by coincidence, Jazz has been dominating me since the very first time we met; it’s no wonder my reaction to him was so viscerally different to anyone else I’ve ever met.
“You must be glad he’s given up,” Blake says quietly after Jazz has just finished with Faith No More’s “Midlife Crisis.”
“Huh?”
He nods at the stage. “Jazz. You guys seem to be getting along better than you were last week,” he observes. “And he’s cut out the singing thing. I’m assuming he finally got the message…”
The irony couldn’t be starker as Jazz launches into Presidents of the United States of America’s version of “Video Killed the Radio Star,” prompting my cock to throb painfully as my mind flashes to the filthy videos I’ve sent him.
Realizing I haven’t answered Blake’s question, I hastily nod. “Yeah, we’ve…come to an understanding, I guess you could say.”
9
The cornerof my mouth tilts up in a teasing smirk as I watchDamon approach the bar. “I’m surprised to see you up and about.”
“I had to wait a while,” he says wryly. Leaning over the bar, he mutters, “Did you seriously have to make it anentireset?”
I arch a brow at him. “Are you actually complaining?”
I’d been undecided about my song selection earlier—Damon’s made some big breakthroughs in the past couple days so I didn’t want to risk a backslide—but when he basically invited me to perform suggestive songs in front of his family I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. I could tell he was insanely turned on throughout my entire set, but just like onWednesday night he didn’t appear to be particularly rattled or agitated. Not even the presence of his kids seemed to discomfit him; although it was obvious he was taking pains to make sure no one became aware of his predicament.
He letsout a soft huff, shaking his head. “No. But if you’re planning to spend the entire night riling me up like this you could at least consider…”—he glances around and leans in a little closer—“attendingto the situation yourself.”
I nod. “I have considered it and I think you’re ready.”
