Page 27 of Wild Stars

Dare and Richie are having the time of their lives, dancing, drinking.Even Hailee looks happier than I’ve ever seen her, but then again, that may have to do with all the free-flowing alcohol on my dime.

A strange sense of pride fills me as I watch my sister, our friends...and even Dare—especially Dare—enjoy themselves.

It feels good to give other people happiness, even though I know I’ll never have it myself.

That kind of stuff isn’t mean for a fucked up person like me.

Edward proved that.

I stop as I see Dareclimbon stage, and everyone in the crowd screams.

“What’s he doing?”I ask, my words sounding slightly slurred to my own ears.

“Such a noble volunteer!”the redheaded angel says as she motions to Dare.

Dare grins like the Cheshire Cat, and under the bright lights, he looks like he really is having the best night of his damn life.

I rock back and forth with the nameless man whose hands slide up and down my waist, but they are cold and clammy.

I want warmth.

So, I gravitate toward the fire.

I wriggle away from the man holding me and step up toward the edge of the stage.Another angel brings out a chair while an angel with short blonde hair carries a red towel or something in her arms.

“Now, be a good little boy and do as we say and we’ll take you to heaven,” Angel number one says, and Dare charismatically winks at the crowd before sticking his pink tongue out again.Naturally, the crowd cheers.

I watch as he sits on the steel chair, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

I grip the bar in front of me while my friends and anonymous individuals stuff money in between the bar for the girls.

I watch as the redhead angel opens the buttons of his neon green shirt, slowly, while some techno-beat makes the bass throb all around us.She moves the flaps, exposing his large, tattooed chest, while another angel takes his hands behind the chair, proceeding to tie them with red silk ribbon.

Angel number one runs her hands over his chest—which I note sports a large tattoo over smooth, pale flesh—while angel number two tugs on the silk ribbon that binds his wrists together, noting that they are tight, as angel number three proceeds to work on tying his ankles to the chair, while angel number one plays with his nipples, thrusting her heavy breasts in his face, then pulling back.

Dare’s pale chest glistens under the light.His signature tattoo—a heart with black wings framing his pecs—draws contrast to his dark nipples, and I notice the slivers of silver glinting in the light between her fingers.

I’m mesmerized by the sight as I think about his pain tolerance.Nipple piercings fucking hurt.They also look appealing on him, and I can’t help but think about what his reaction would be to my steel clamps.The images, thoughts of such things threaten to pull me under.

The red ribbon contrasts his pale skin, and he leans his head back, craning his neck to look up at the angel, lips pouty and eyes full of heat.

My gaze travels down his soft curves, the way the silk ribbon cuts across his flesh, drawing shadows across his hipbones, down to the evident hardness displayed and accentuated by his bondage and tight black jeans.He might not be as cut and hard-edged as most of the men in this industry, but fuck if the sight of him bound doesn’t make me want to grab his soft hips, to sink my fingernails into what is probably a perfect, plump ass, to watch it pink from my handprint or the sting of a whip.

To stroke and soothe the pain I cause until my marks disappear.

Angel number one straddles him as angel number two runs her hands along his chest, playing with his nipples.

“Such a good boy you are!”Angel one giggles as she addresses the roaring crowd.

Dare groans, but he doesn’t move.He doesn’t grind or shift or fight at all.

Realization hits me like the crack of a whip.

He likes this.

The women, the ropes.

The commands.

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