46. Adair
46
ADAIR
L ater that night, when it’s just the two of us again, Jack suggests we celebrate. I make a face. “I mean, I’m still not a real artist.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shut up with that already. The woman’s going to fucking pay you. Even if you didn’t think you were before, you can’t argue with me now. You’re a real artist. Actually —” his eyebrows go up like he just thought of something. “You’re going to need a business name.”
I don’t even think about it. The name just pops itself into my head. “Dumb Bunny Designs,” I say with a grin.
He laughs. “I’m proud of you,” he says for what, by now, is the umpteenth time today. “I knew you just had to put yourself out there so people could see how talented you are.”
There’s something so unexpectedly sweet about his gruff, stubbornly blind faith in me. I throw my arms around him. “OK, OK. We can celebrate. What did you have in mind?”
“I promised you I was going to show you off in a dungeon, and I’m going to deliver, dammit. You’re not making a liar out of me, Bunny.”
I t’s not until the following weekend, when we’re in the hotel room, that the thought occurs to me.
“Shit, Jack —what am I supposed to wear?”
A sly smile slides onto his face, and something wolfish glitters in his eyes. “Don’t worry about that. I brought what I want to see you in.”
I dig through the backpack he tosses to me, pulling out black pants and a sort of dressy-looking gray shirt with a Henley collar. I frown at them as I put the clothes on the bed. “These aren’t mine.”
“They are now.” Jack nods towards the backpack. “And keep going.”
Puzzled, I dig back into it until I find what he’s talking about. There’s what looks like a pair of underwear, also black. But when I pull them out I realize the back of them is… oh, there isn’t a back. This is a jockstrap.
A flash of something bright in the backpack distracts me from the blood rushing into my cheeks. I pull out a big metal butt plug. “Is this the one you made me wear during work that day?”
“Nope.” Jack holds up his hand, and the toy starts buzzing in my palm. My surprised response makes him laugh. “There’s lube in there, too. I want you to put that inside of you before we go.”
I look at the pile of stuff skeptically, but I get ready like he wants. When I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, I stop short. A pulse of lust goes straight to my dick, my hole clenching around the base of the plug as I stare at Jack. He might be the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
He’s changed into an untucked black button-down over a pair of black pants with a dark sheen to them that I’ve never seen before. The top four or so shirt buttons are open, showing a generous expanse of his furry chest, and the material is snug over his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a pair of boots that look kind of like his regular work boots, but sleeker and shiner. I’ve never seen those before, either.
In a split-second, I’m wondering what the smooth leather would feel like against my tongue. At that thought, the only thing faster than the ashamed rush of blood to my cheeks is the horny rush of blood to my cock. Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
Jack’s hair falls into a loose part down the middle. I want to run my fingers through it so badly. When he looks up from his phone, his brows rise and his eyes light up. He saunters over to me, a little smile on his lips. Reaching me, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck as he brings his mouth down onto mine.
Every time Jack kisses me, it feels like he’s trying to claim me — the force of his lips against mine, the way his tongue seeks mine out, his muffled sounds of desire. I’m acutely conscious of the plug filling up my hole. Jack slips a hand under my shirt, rolling one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinching it until the pain stiffens my cock. When I grab his ass to pull him against me, I feel something flat and stiff in his back pocket.
I break off the kiss and look at him. “You’re bringing the paddle?”
He smirks and gives me a hungry leer. “Didn’t want to bother with taking off my belt.” He digs into his hip pocket. I kind of know what’s coming but the sensation still catches me by surprise when the plug comes to life in my ass, sending vibrations from my core to my entire body.
“Oh my God.”
Jack laughs a little. “That’s the low setting.”
W e take a cab, which drops us off on a deserted industrial block. Jack makes a beeline for a dark alleyway. I hustle after him, wanting to stay as close to him as possible in this forbidding setting.
We pop out onto what looks like the back of a warehouse or factory. In the dim glow of a distant streetlight, I make out a loading dock next to an unmarked metal door. Jack heads towards the door and raps on it with his knuckles. It’s then that I notice the single, red lightbulb glowing above it.
It opens with a metallic whine. An intimidatingly tall guy dressed all in black lets us in and directs us down a dimly-lit hallway.
“How do you even know about this place?” I ask Jack. “Oh, wait — have you been here before?”
“Yeah.” He looks both perplexed and amused at my surprise.
“But when? I thought, you know, after things with your ex…” I trail off and he snorts.
“Seriously? I was single. I wasn’t living in fucking celibacy. I’ve had some good times here.”
I’m tailing Jack closely enough that I nearly bump into him when he abruptly stops at a door and pushes it open. It’s like a regular locker room, but bathed in dim red light.
Jack directs me to strip down except for the jockstrap. “What?” I blink at him. “Why?” I figured there’d be clothes coming off at some point tonight, but I wasn’t expecting to be this naked, this soon.
“Because that’s what I want to see you in.” Even in the low light, I can see the predatory gleam in his eye.
“Not fair I have to be practically naked while you’re still dressed,” I grumble.
Jack smacks my ass. “Actually, you’re right; I almost forgot.” He reaches into the bag he brought. I’m relieved until I see what he’s holding: The cuffs he uses to restrain me to the bed at home. My stomach is doing flip-flops, but my dick stirs as soon as he wraps that black leather around my wrists.
Out of the locker room, I try to look around without gawking as Jack leads me down the hallway. It’s the same red lights everywhere. We pass a few doors. Some are closed, one is open; from the quick glimpse I get inside as we pass, I can see that there’s a glory hole set up, with a big guy getting his dick sucked.
“This is the main play area,” Jack says as we come out into a big, open space. “The rooms we passed have different themes. If whoever’s using them wants company, they’ll leave the door open.”
Standing near the wall, I look around as my eyes adjust to the lurid glow. I can make out a big, X-shaped cross along one wall, a padded bench, a sawhorse —also padded, but still pretty scary-looking —and what looks like a giant birdcage.
In the center of the room is something that looks like those playground rope nets I used to climb as a kid, but this one is made out of heavy chain. It stretches from floor to ceiling and between a pair of support columns. A man in a black leather vest comes over to the other side from where we’re standing, leading a guy whose tiny black thong barely covers his visibly hard cock.
I’m still a little nervous, but the whole atmosphere is such a turn-on that my fear is retreating.