Page 10 of Obey

Carl is already waiting for me in the lounge, and his gruff look softens when he sees me. He envelops me in a hug, pulling me close. “What’s wrong, Mads?” he asks.

I wish I could tell him.

He’d understand, I think. Out of everyone I know, he’s the one who wouldn’t turn his back on me after finding out how badly I’d betrayed Nayeem.

I can’t risk it, though.

“Just work stuff,” I say, pulling away from him.

Carl gives me a hard stare. “You know what I say about work-life balance.”

It’s a lecture he’d shared during one of our first meetings, about how work wasn’t worth it if you didn’t have a life, and any work that was detrimental for your life needed to get dumped. He thinks I work freelance, though, and I could never tell him I actually work for one of the biggest mafia families in New Bristol.

“I know.” He doesn’t stop staring at me, and I sigh. “I do know. Just have to make ends meet, you know? I’ll take a short vacation when I’m done with this job.”

He shakes his head, making some of his blond hair fall over his eyes. “I don’t think it’s healthy. If you were my boy…” Carl trails off.

I avoid his gaze. We’ve talked about this before, about me being his boy, and I can’t lie and say I’ve never thought about it. Having someone to take care of me at the end of a long day would be nice…

But I don’t want gentle and caring.

I want someone to fuck me up.

“Never mind. You want to play tonight? Or just chat? I could find somebody else if you want to watch,” he says.

I glance back at him. “I want to play,” I say steadily.

I need to.

Carl nods. “All right. Go find the tools I’m using tonight. I’m thinking of giving everybody a show. Does that sound good to you, boy?”

The idea sends a throb of arousal straight to my dick. “Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. He might be more careful if we’re giving a show than he would be if it was just the two of us, but it’ll probably last longer. I can’t deny that I love doing these things in public and having everybody’s eyes on me.

I take off my shirt and put it in my locker, already anticipating the feeling of pain, of having this horrible craving satisfied. It’s not that I want Carl to fuck me—I don’t—but pain transcends that. It’s better, somehow.

And it doesn’t remind me of Knives.

Forks.

I stifle a bitter chuckle, then head deeper into the club. In the supply room, I find my favorite flogger. It’s the right amount of thud with a little bit of a sting, and Carl knows just how to wield it.

I head back to him, dipping my head in submission as I offer it out to him.

“Good,” Carl says, taking the flogger. He runs the tails of it along my jaw, then forces me to tip my chin up. “How many lashes am I giving you tonight?”

I let out a slow breath, staring up at him as the first waves of tranquility start to relax my shoulders. I wish I could tell him to go as hard as he wants, as many as he wants, but he always sees that as a sign not to play. “Twenty-five?” I hazard a guess at what he might think is right. Enough, but not too much. And maybe I can talk him into more.

“Acceptable.” Carl gets up and leads me toward the public play areas of the club. One of the regulars waves to me as I pass her.

“You seen Cristiano lately?” she asks, following us to one of the St. Andrew’s crosses. “I’ve missed him.”

Carl rolls his eyes. “Cristiano canceled his membership, Heather. He’s not coming back.”

Heather pouts. “I bet it’s because of that little redhead,” she says, shaking her head. “Cristiano acted so strange with him. Luke is still traumatized, by the way.”

I don’t know who Luke is or why he’d be traumatized, and I glance at Carl.

“Cristiano is unhinged anyway,” Carl mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t need to play with somebody that dangerous.” He taps the flogger against my shoulder. “That applies to you, too, Mads. Stay away from psychopaths like Cristiano if he shows back up.”

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