The chaos is all-consuming.
One day, if I can’t latch onto it and make it work for me in the form of music, what happens? Do I go fucking crazy from all the maddening thoughts? If only Lex could see me now, curled up on my side in front of a dumpster, humming a song only I know while praying for motherfucking peace.
I’m pathetic.
Twisted and lost.
I need help.
Shakily, I lift my Zippo.
Flick. Burn.
The flame scorches my wrist until a hot tear leaks from the corner of my eyes, forcing me to drop the Zippo.
I need fucking help.
Hush, a sex club owned by a good friend of mine, is where I come when I need to let the beast loose. Willing playmates line up to sate my dark cravings here. Yet, tonight, I can’t seem to get myself in the right headspace. I’m preoccupied with a particular fucker who just happens to be blasting through the stereo system with his new song flying high in the charts right now.
I hate that I know that. Know what songs are his, how well he’s doing, what he’s doing, where he’s doing it. Am I the hunter or am I the fucking prey?
I should be focused on my new case, but I’m far from fucking focused lately. My mind is storming like a raging ocean ready to crash to shore to see if a certain boy can handle the wave I’m ready to drench him in.
The lyrics croon from the room, teasing me, his voice caressing the place in a sexy undertone, setting the mood. It reminds me of the pumping of my pulse after a rough fuck, and I can’t stop thinking about having that boy pinned against the wall.
His broken, self-destructive attitude speaks to the healer inside me—to the detective driven to dissecting and finding a satisfactory resolution. But that fucking smirk and disobedient spark speaks to the Dom I am. Makes me want to cuff him, teach him all the ways I can bring him to his knees and make him beg for my firm punishment.
“Another?” Ren pipes up, reminding me I’m not alone.
I tip my beer bottle to my lips and drain the last of the liquid. “Nah, I want to keep a clear head.”
He’s fucking smirking. I can feel it in his tone when he says, “Big plans tonight? Levi has been eye-fucking you since you sat your ass down.” I follow the path of his gaze to Levi, the bartender who has been trying to get me in his pants since the dawn of time.
I don’t like to fuck around with Joshua’s staff. It’s disrespectful to him and will always lead to drama. Levi would no doubt be a good fuck, but that’s all I’d want from him—to ruin him for other men. I know he would be one of those clingy guys thinking they have what it takes to keep me tied to one man. That is not something I’m entertaining right now.
The seat next to me dips as Joshua joins us, placing another round of beers on the table before slinging his arm over the back of my seat. He nods to the bar where Levi is still looking over here. “You’re distracting my bartender again,” he teases.
“What can I say? I’m appealing.” I shrug, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension building there. It’s not Levi I want. I need to get this kid out of my fucking system.
“So I wanted to talk to you about something,” Joshua announces, leaning forward, arms coming to rest on the table, head slightly bowed.
I raise a brow, intrigued. Ren leans in from my other side, curiosity summoning him. “Let’s say a female’s kink is a role-play scene…fantasy rape,” he whispers, like anyone would frown upon that shit in here. “What’s the protocol for that sort of thing?”
I hold up my hand. “As long as you have consent, it’s fine.”
“That’s not something you offer here though?” Ren clarifies, posing it as a question. If it is, it’s not something we know about, and considering we’re his best friends and have been coming here since the place opened, I think we’d know.
This is a personal question.
Swigging his drink, Joshua shakes his head. “No, it’s not something we offer here, or something I’m looking to introduce, but I have a client who came to me asking about this stuff.”
“What do you want to know, Joshua?”
“If a role-play happened as realistically as possible, can it backfire on the aggressor?”
“Get a contract in place, iron-clad—and don’t do anything that’s not consented in the contract,” I warn him.
“So, who is it?” Ren grins, leaning more forward, like a fucking teenage girl desperate for gossip.
“Fuck off.” Joshua smirks back at him. “You know I keep everything confidential.”
“That’s why we play here,” I say, clinking his bottle with the one he brought over for me.