Chapter 15 #3
“Hardware. Free pie on Mondays, while it lasts. Best coffee for fifty cents a cup.” If country was his jam, he could write some good lyrics. The store had been called A Different Time. The hand-carved golden pine sign over the blue tin roof awning had drawn his attention when they passed it.
The plywood shelves on either side of him had some open boxes, revealing lingerie in a variety of colors and touchable fabrics, electronic sex toys and erotic films. Those boxes were followed by spools of ropes and chains, then crates containing nails, power tools, and horse wormer.
When she saw him note the ropes and chains, she winked at him.
“On some things, Logan and I can share the costs. The hardware store is my husband’s.”
His grin took him by surprise. He would have said the ability to smile that spontaneously had left him forever.
My life is over.
Get over yourself.
It’s over when I say it’s over.
Would he assign that lyric to the gods, or to Roy?
The door approaching on the right, labeled A Different Time in vinyl block lettering, was an employee access to the hardware store. Across the hall was another door, partially open.
“Troy, his assistant manager, is running the store today, because Logan is finishing up a project for a client.” Madison looked over her shoulder, her brown hair sliding across the lavender fabric of the blouse. The mirrors held by the embroidery glittered in the dim lights.
“We’ll just take a quick glimpse without disturbing him,” she whispered. After she peeked into the room, she stepped back and gestured DJ forward.
DJ saw an extensive woodworking shop, and a man in the center of it. He squatted on the heels of his thick-soled work shoes as he attached decorative trim to a spanking bench, with a person-sized cage built beneath it.
The bench and cage frame were made of wood, while the bars were black metal, fired in a matching serpentine shape and spaced to allow a hand to push between them.
Or another appendage, if the Master or Mistress ordered it to be presented for their inspection, touch or mouth.
Or to be punished. DJ’s hand tightened on the door frame.
The decorative wood trim had been painted purple, black and silver. The bottom trim for the cage was also stamped with tiny black fleur de lis. The bench cushion was a sleek and supple black vinyl.
DJ’s attention slid from the equipment to the man himself, as easy as a change in sexual position, seeking more of the same pleasure.
Wide, powerful shoulders, a tapered waist. When he straightened to lean over the top of the bench and run a hand along its edge, testing for smoothness, every movement required a shift of buttock, flex of shoulder and ripple of muscle across his back.
His denim-covered ass was like the candy shop display that pulled someone off the street and right into the store, no matter what they told themselves about their diet or too much sugar. Nothing that looked like that could be bad for you. Or it was the right kind of bad.
His hands applied care, respect and strength in equal measure to his craft. His lips were firm and set, his brown eyes focused on what he was doing. It reminded DJ of what Roy had so unexpectedly offered when DJ asked him if he liked watching him play the guitar.
Your focus…it’s distracting.
Two words with a hundred words of erotic meaning behind them. For the first time in weeks, his fingers felt the urge to distract Roy just that way. Especially when he thought about what Roy had also said, about DJ applying that dexterity and intensity to his Master’s cock.
“Logan?” he whispered to Madison, unnecessarily.
The man was sharp-eared. He glanced over his shoulder. Logan’s brown hair framed a strong face with precise cheekbones. Wisps of that silky mane feathered over his high forehead. His brow lifted when he saw DJ, but his gaze narrowed on Madison.
“What mischief are you up to, woman?”
The voice matched the body. Deep, with a compelling reverb. It was Roy-like, threat and seduction in the same chord.
“Just showing a customer around. He might be interested in your furniture. Don’t let us interrupt.”
She drew DJ only a few steps from the door, as if loathe to leave Logan’s proximity. DJ didn’t blame her.
“Holy testosterone gods, Batman.” It was easy to respond just as she expected, since it was unvarnished truth.
“See? It’s why your dazzling celebrity charms are wasted on me. No offense.”
“None taken. I pale in comparison.”
“Hardly,” she dimpled, sweeping an appreciative gaze over DJ. “But being stupid in love has a way of commanding exclusive attention.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “The homo-monogamous thing. How did you figure that out?”
“The way you checked me out says you’re not a stranger to enjoying a woman. But the way you look at your bodyguard says who has your heart.”
She looked as if she intended to say more, then gave him an easy smile to cover the callback.
“Now you’re going to get tight-lipped, Guru of the Sex Shop?” he asked.
Her eyes twinkled again, but a somber cast stayed in place. “Helping my power exchange customers navigate relationships encourages an in-the-moment familiarity that isn’t always welcome. I won’t call it false intimacy, because it is very real, but…”
“It’s like a confessional.”
“The overlaps between faith and sexual expression tend to be unavoidable,” she agreed.
“So what’s the feedback?” he asked.
“Do you worry about it? Him being so interested in you, and you in him, and his objectivity as a bodyguard?”
DJ sent her a wry look. “Have you ever had an experienced Dom as a bodyguard? He doesn’t miss details. Keeping me safe is his top priority, way the hell ahead of his own feelings and desires.” Roy was always aware of DJ, what he was doing and where he was.
Proving it, DJ dipped his chin to his left, drawing Madison’s attention in that direction. Her eyes widened when she found Roy standing in the shadows, silent and unnoticed until this moment.
“That was a few seconds off his normal game,” DJ murmured. “He’ll give himself hell for that. Or me.”
“Told you not to leave the building,” Roy said, stepping forward.
DJ’s earlier anger was gone, leaving only a simple gladness that Roy had come looking for him, despite DJ’s pissy behavior. Still, he had to be a wiseass. DJ lifted a finger and twirled it, indicating their surroundings. “Still in the building. Just a long-assed building.”
Logan came to the threshold of his workshop. When his gaze shifted to the new arrival, DJ was surprised to see recognition. “Roy,” he said. “How’ve you been?”
When Roy reached past DJ, Madison got distracted by those two very masculine hands locked together in a warm clasp. Logan being straight and Roy not at all made it an easier thing for DJ to appreciate as well.
“Good, thanks. Good to see you.”
“I see you traded up.” Logan grinned before he offered a curious Madison and DJ an explanation. “Last time I saw Roy was at a BDSM trade show in Vegas. He was guarding a spoiled pop princess who wanted to giggle over dildos and make fun of the lifestyle.”
“I would have let you all beat her ass to teach her some manners, but it went against the bodyguard code, throwing her to the wolves like that.”
“Those darn consent rules.” Logan slid his arm around Madison, hooking his fingers in the sash. “If they’d just let us do what we know is best for them.”
“Master, megalomaniac.” Madison held up her hands, palms cupped as if weighing the words on a scale’s two sides.
“I’d say ‘preach it, sister,’” DJ agreed, “but Roy is the one standing between me and…”
He faltered. The quip had run full tilt into a wound that was still too fresh. Time to go. He turned to Madison and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks for your outstanding help.”
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?”
Madison would say what needed to be said, no matter what, but his patient manner, with no trace of annoyance, helped her get it out the way it needed to be said.
“The things he and I discussed work for exploring a healthy BDSM relationship. But if he’s dealing with trauma, some of it might take him down the wrong road. If you’re the one who’s exploring it with him, you already know. But if you aren’t…I just want him to be safe.”
At his sharp look, she lifted a shoulder. “It was pretty obvious between you two.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Roy said. “That’s my job.”
Neither confirming nor denying, to protect DJ. Which confirmed Logan’s opinion of the man and reassured her.
“Thank you. If either of you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.” She brightened. “We have a 20% jewelry sale next month. Nipple clamps, cock rings, piercings. And collars.”
Appreciative warmth appeared in his gray eyes. “I’ll mention it. Thank you, Madison. You gave him a few good moments. Right now, he needs all of those he can get.”