My brows shoot up. “Seriously? This was all done on a whim?”
“Yep. It was only supposed to be two songs though,” she explains, rolling her eyes as Jazz starts playing “Strong Enough” by Cher.
“I don’t think anyone minds the change of plans,” I point out wryly.
Chloe lets out a soft laugh. “True. The crowd really seems to be loving it. Jazz might not be so pleased with himself tomorrow, but I guess that’s his problem to deal with.” She shrugs and moves off to bus a nearby table, leaving me frowning in puzzlement.
I shake my head at the bizarre conversation and make my way back to our table…only to find it’s no longer occupied; I can only assume Shay followed the siren call of Cher and Drunk Blake was overcome with FOMO.
“Yourlittle scheme was impressive,I’ll give you that. But it’s kind of scary to know how easily you were able to manipulate the circumstances to your advantage,” I say with a wry smile as Jazz appears through the door to the staff area.
Once again I found the bar practically spotless by the time I was done stacking the chairs. Instead of waiting around casually ogling me, however, Jazz had disappeared into the back so I’ve been taking the opportunity to flick through the order screen and check everything over.
“Myadvantage?” He arches a brow at me, his mouth curved in a teasing smirk. “Gia got to go home early. The crowdgot to see an epic performance. And you…” He steps in closer, caging me against the bar. “You’re getting what you’ve been craving desperately for days.” He leans in closer, prompting me to shudder as he murmurs in my ear, “Whoseadvantage?”
“Fuck…”
I can’t even remember what we’re supposed to be talking about. How was it that less than a minute ago I was standing at the order screen, reviewing the transactions report and divvying up the digital tip jar…and now I’m a groaning, panting mess, desperately grinding against Jazz’s palm.
“This must be some kind of record,” he growls in my ear. “Barely a second of my hand on your crotch and you’re already moaning like a back-alley whore?”
I groan even louder as he grabs a fistful of my hair and roughly yanks my head back, leaning in even closer.
“Is that what you want to be, dirty boy?” he murmurs. “My cheap, nastywhore?Do you want me to strip you down and spread you out right here on the bar? If you’re this loud now I can’t even imagine what you’d sound like with my tongue in your ass...”
“Fuck,”I gasp out, barely able to breathe let alone think. “Fuck…yes,” I groan. “Use me. Want it. I’m your whore…” I’m babbling desperately now, the degradation and debauchery of what he’s describing is making my head spin and my body tremble with need. Not even the ick factor of Jazz putting his mouththereis turning me off.
Jazz draws his hands away and takes a step back, letting out a huff of amusement at my whine of protest. “Don’t worry, dirty boy—you can start whoring it up as soon we’re done with the safety protocol.”
I frown in puzzlement. “Safety protocol?” Glancing around our vicinity, a thought occurs to me. “Is this, like, a HR thing?”
Jazz lets out a snort of laughter. “I think we’re well and truly beyond HR regulations at this point. I’m talking BDSM safety—just because we’re not using restraints or paddles or whatever doesn’t mean there won’t be times when something doesn’t feel right. That’s why you need a safe word,” Jazz explains.
“What happens if I use it?” I ask curiously.
“It’s kind of like a pause button,” he says. “We stop whatever we’re doing so we can talk through the issueand figure out how to manage it.”
“That sounds…disruptive,” I murmur.
“The only way I can safely maintain that illusion of control you’ve come to enjoy so much is if I can trust you to tell me when something doesn’t feel right,” Jazz says, issuing me with a disapproving look.
I wince, feeling chastened. “You’re right. Sorry—this is all still…”
He nods. “Yeah,I know. And I’m not going to rush you into anything I don’t think you’re ready for, but the fact that you’re completely new to all this makes it even more important. So…choosea word that’s easy for you to remember, easy to pronounce and easy to distinguish from anything you might cry out while I’m rocking your world.”
I roll my eyes at the final caveat before casting around in my mind for an appropriate word. Finally drawing inspiration from our surroundings, I suggest, “Whiskey?”
Jazz nods, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Perfect. And there’s also a non-verbal signal in case you’re not able to speak.”
My brows draw together. “Why wouldn’t I be able to speak?”
“I can provide a demonstration in a moment,” he says wryly. “If you’re not into it just do this—three times quickly, either closed first or flat palm—anywhere on my body.” Hedemonstrates the signal with three quick jabs to my chest, and again with three firm pats on my bicep. “If there’s ever an occasion where you need this signal but I’m not within reach, knock three times on a hard surface.” He knocks on the bar to demonstrate.
“Okay…”I nod slowly. I can’t help feeling a little wary, but at the same time I can now appreciate the need for safety signals.
“Remember, you’re the one setting the boundaries here,” Jazz reminds me. “Is there anything you want to put on the no-go list?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Um. Well…I don’t really want you to fuck me…”
