Page 111 of Naughty Dreams
The touch and compliment brought a tinge back to her cheeks. Only now he knew it wasn’t because he was a famous rockstar, but because she was a service sub somewhat like him, who thrived on praise like cake and ice cream.
Especially if it was Roy’s praise.
“Come back anytime you’re in the area,” she said. “We have an erotic theater. The shows sell out fast, but I always reserve a few VIP tickets for last minute arrivals.”
“Wow, thanks. Okay.”
While Roy and Logan held a quiet chat, she told him a few more details, but when his bodyguard stepped back to his side, Madison’s glance shifted from DJ to Roy and back. “Can I ask one more nosy question? How long have you known one another?”
“A few months,” DJ said.
Or forever, he thought. Sometimes it felt like that. Other times, it was as if they’d just met.
He’d like to rewind, go through all the hot, fun, emotional, life-changing-in-the-right-way stuff they’d shared since then. He'd stop before he reached the sucky plot turn. Like rewriting songs that started with great riffs but then flatlined into banality. Maybe he’d pretend that he could rewrite where they were now.
Making the music he and Survival created come as close as possible to the wondrous chaos in his head, gut and soul was the challenge that had pulled him up and gave him purpose.
If he’d lost that, he’d have to face the truth—that he’d have to find a new purpose, when all he wanted to do right now was…what?
Nothing.
Fuck.
Madison propped her elbows on her counter. She watched Roy hold the SUV door for her famous customer, a young man just this side of too lean, but muscled, and with eye-catching dark brown curls partially hidden under the jaunty fedora.
“He’s having a rough time,” Madison murmured.
“Yeah.” Logan had his hand on her shoulder, a finger tracing the edge of the collar she wore. The possessive yet tender gesture aroused her, but she was seeking something else from him.
As he often did, he answered the concern before she had to give it voice. “Roy is a solid Dom, with a good rep. I told him if he was going to remain in the area long enough, he should come to The Warehouse’s monthly dungeon. I’ll put his name on the list with a no-need-to-vet plus one. Guard DJ’s privacy.”
“Good.” She put her hand over his, lacing their fingers together.
Troy pushed through the curtain behind them. He was a little breathless. “Holy hell, do you know who that was? DJ James of Survival.”
“I know,” she said. “He gave me a card to mail his purchases to his manager’s office.
“Whoa, women will shiv you for that info.”
She gave him an amused look. “I’ll put it in the safe.”
A shadow crossed Troy’s face. “Did he seem okay?”
The concern drew Madison’s attention. Logan’s invaluable employee was a loving and protective man. Shale, the Mistress he loved and who loved him back, would vouch for it, saying it was both blessing and curse.
“No, he didn’t. I’m guessing you know why. I don’t follow a lot of celebrity news.”
When Troy told her about the crash, Madison was around the counter and out the front door, startling both men. The vehicle had reached the end of their short street, but fortunately was idling with the brake lights on, as if the occupants were considering their next destination.
Proving what DJ had said about Roy’s attention to detail, when she stepped into the quiet street and waved her hand insistently, the backup lights went on.
She moved to the sidewalk until the car was even with her. She’d thought the encounter had taken its toll on DJ, and Roy confirmed it by emerging alone. He joined her on the sidewalk.
“Did he leave his credit card?”
“No, he paid in cash. He was going to tip me enough to afford a steak dinner for the whole street, but I made him keep it.”
“Sounds like him. And I was kidding. I know. He pays for everything in cash. What’s up?”
