Page 19 of First Time

Micah didn’t respond and turned his focus back on the woman singing the National Anthem.

Sean belted out the lyrics at the top of his lungs in perfect tune. The kid had no filter in any way, shape, or form. He made me smirk more often than not.

“I have a couple more friends along with Drake who would love to be on your payroll,” Sean started back in the second the song ended.

Micah glanced over at Drake. “You’re interested?”

Drake shrugged. “I’d think about it, sure. Not like I’m looking for a relationship anytime soon.”

“What about you, Cooney?” Micah asked.

“I don’t do dick,” I stated firmly, having had my fill of that when I’d done what I had to do to survive my first couple of months in Boston.

“No—I meant do you know of any gay men in the kink world who might consider signing on with Elite?”

Sean got really antsy, really quickly, shifting around with excitement lighting him up from the inside out. The kid was pure sunshine in fleshly form.

I thought about the other Doms who frequented Chantelle’s but wasn’t sure if any of them swayed the dick way. “Master Lamond is straight,” I finally offered, “but he doesn’t discriminate against tying up one sex over the other. I’ve seen him jack a sub off over at Chantelle’s, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give or take dick up the ass.”

Micah nodded, probably knowing the guy I spoke of. Micah had been a patron of Chantelle’s longer than I had. He was the one who’d introduced me to the club owner and had gotten me the invite to join.

“Seeeee!” Sean dragged the word out, making Micah roll his eyes. “You have to do this for me!”

“You’re a spoiled, fucking brat,” Micah grumbled at his brother while pushing up to his feet. “You just don’t want to have to work for dick—why should I expand my business to pay for your favorite hobby?”

“Because you love me,” Sean sang the words, laughing. “Grab me and Drake another beer, would ya?”

Still muttering under his breath, Micah turned into the kitchen.

I chuckled, listening to Sean babble on to Drake about how his brother would hook them up with all the free dick and balls a gay man could wish for.

At least the banter kept my focus off Becky and the ache between my legs.

I stared at Stephen’s damn card for over an hour while trying to get my head straight. To watch or not to watch those videos Chantelle had warned me about? How badly did I want to lose my shit? Would I even last until Friday night before seeking the fucker out to rip his throat out if my concerns proved right?

The not knowing ate at my thoughts once the guys left Sunday night, and I couldn’t let it go.

Tossing the card onto my coffee table, I scowled and headed into my home office. I’d memorized the porn site’s address and typed in the search bar the name Stephen used to upload. My index finger didn’t hover. I hit enter without hesitation, steeling myself for another rage flare up.

Still preview images lined the screen, and my jaw ticked from a brief glance.

Becky on a spanking bench.

Becky tied spread eagle to a bed.

Becky bent over the back of a couch, red handprints over her bare backside.

Growling, I jerked my focus to the top image and clicked on it.

Cuffed to a cross and ball-gagged, Becky blubbered and shook, cane welts covering her stomach and thighs. She wasn’t trembling from the need to come, and it sure as hell wasn’t subspace that hung her head.

My stomach churned with burning bile wanting to spew up my throat. Pitiful whimpers escaped her lips, a sob hitching her chest and making her heavy breasts jiggle.

Stephen walked around her with a handheld camera. “You’re such a precious little sub,” he crooned, sarcastic emphasis on little as though making fun of her plus-sized beauty.

Fucking bastard.

The lush woman deserved to be loved on by someone who thoroughly enjoyed all her curves. Flesh to grope and hold onto while burrowing deep inside her core.

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