Page 53 of Dangle

“Been with many pros have you?”

He shook his head, his eyes rolling. “It might not’ve been their job, but it easily could’ve been. And just so you’re aware, in case it’s slipped your mind, you’re what’s called a brat in the community.”

“A brat? You’ve said that a few times. It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

One by one, his fingers curled around my throat and pulled me toward him, stopping just far enough apart that when our eyes met, they didn’t cross. Our breath whispered and dancedtogether while eyes remained locked. “To the right Dom, a brat is like winning the lottery, baby boy. It makes our hearts sing, our cocks throb, and our palms itch.”

“Holy shit.” The words were barely a whisper. Between the good boy and now the baby boy, he just kept mindfucking me. The baby boy managed to suck all the air from my lungs and did shit to my body I wasn’t sure I wanted to examine too closely.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said while gazing at my face and into my eyes. I knew I was hot. I knew I was gorgeous. The genes were there: a supermodel for a grandmother and a figure skater turned model mother, who still booked photo shoots and commercials regularly.

“So the boxes?” I asked, because I couldn’t not know, but I also couldn’t bring myself to formulate the question I actually wanted to ask.

“What boxes?”

“The ones I tick. Or rather the ones I don’t.”

Wide-eyed and laser-focused, his gaze stared me down. It felt probing. As if he searched for answers to questions not yet asked. I braced myself when his mouth opened, but then he said, “Someone who knows I’m not interested in a bedmate who bounces around the club looking for something or someone better. Who knows I’m a possessive fuck who doesn’t share.”

That unearthed a memory from the previous night. “So you and Ewen…”

“What about Ewen and me?” he asked.

“I asked last night if you were together. And if so, whether you shared.”

“You did.”

“You didn’t answer.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I don’t discuss my preferences with anyone I’m not in a dynamic or relationship with.”

“Oh!” The question that ran through my head last night about how to sign up for that job came back to me. I opened my mouth, and a soft, barely there smile tugged at his lips.

He said, “But since you sucked my cock so beautifully, I think the lock on that door is open.” He paused, then continued, “Ewen and I are best friends. Have been for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. Sometimes, we are best friends. Sometimes, we are best friends who fuck. Sometimes, we’ve shared; never if we were in a relationship or dynamic with a sub. Not unless the sub asked and the dynamic between us is stable without any jealousy issues.”

I nodded. The thoughts whirled. I couldn’t get them to pause long enough to latch onto one so I could figure out what any of it meant. Finally, I looked at him, and I realized I’d been sitting on his lap all this time. Straddling him, my fingers wandering over his flesh while we talked, and I tried to make him understand I was into him, and he tried explaining his life to me.

“So, exclusive?” I asked.

“That would be my preference and what would work best for your situation. I mean if you’re trying to prove that you’ve settled down and are being less impulsive and hot-headed?—”

I interrupted, “Sounds like a plan my father would cook up, only instead of a hot, sexy, Daddy type he’d find the hottest twenty-year-old blonde-haired, blue-eyed puck bunny, yes girl for me to date and then propose at the end of my rookie contract. One willing to pop out the next generation of the Malachek hockey dynasty before she’s twenty-five.”

“Well, according to you that’s not your type.”

“No. Not to say I haven’t partaken when it’s been offered, and yes, I know how shitty that sounds now that I’ve said it out loud, but I’m not interested in bedding a svelte empty-headed model for the rest of my life to make a bunch of homophobes happy.”

“Glad to hear it, kid.”

I laughed at the assholish comment, and I vowed to find a way to make him stop calling me kid. But first… “So what’s your criteria for a sub other than someone who isn’t looking for something better—that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, you’re fucking gorgeous and nice—and who understands you’re possessive and don’t share your playthings?”

“First, they have to like Dominant men, and you just said you don’t.”

“Okay, pops. First, you need to hit rewind on the relic of a tape deck in your noggin. I said it’s proof you’re hot as fuck. I don’t give a fuck that you’re Dominant. I actually fucking like it. My dick twitches every time I think about you getting bossy in bed and manhandling me.”

“That, right there? That’s what’s called brat behavior, kiddo.”

“Good to know. Thank you for the vocabulary lesson. Did you give it so you had time to find the remote to rewind the conversation?”