Chapter 3 #2
Emily’s just put a cup of coffee in front of me when the doorbell goes.
Logan growls that it’s too late for anyone to be calling but Emily patters off to answer the door before he has a chance to stop her.
She returns with a huge, black guy I’ve met a couple of times, Austin, a woman who holds herself as straight as a razor, and a thin, black-haired guy who shuffles to the back of the group and looks like he’s trying to hide.
Logan introduces the woman as Dana and the shy man as Cappa.
They join us at the table and Emily flutters around getting tea for everyone while Austin peels back the bandage on Logan’s face and gives it a professional once-over.
Logan glares at DirtyGurl while Austin’s inspecting the wound and after a long moment, she cracks, throwing up her hands. “He threatened everyone with crucifixion if you were ever injured again and he wasn’t the first call,” she says. “I like to avoid crucifixion when I can.”
“I did, sir,” Austin admits.
Javier, a bald, overbearing, Upper West Side-type that I’ve met several times since Logan was injured, points at Austin. “You, stop threatening the other subs, that’s my job. And you.” He points at DirtyGurl. “Big trouble. We’ll schedule your crucifixion for tomorrow night at nine.”
DirtyGurl sighs. “Master Theo owns my ass until Sunday at midnight. I came without permission.”
Javier chuckles. “Definitely crucifixion, then. Tell Theo I’ll be joining the two of you tomorrow evening.”
“Yes, sir.” DirtyGurl rubs her hand over her face resignedly and takes out her phone.
I flick my eyes between them, trying to understand the interaction. I feel a twinge of alienation, of being the kid at school that no one let in on the joke. The kid who spent Friday and Saturday nights home alone with a book instead of at tailgates and parties because no one invited him.
Before the feeling can bring back too many ugly memories, I pull out my phone and get busy with it, tapping out a quick text to Ty. He should be asleep by now, but he’ll see it when he wakes up, or if his mom kicks him out to bang her dealer.
While I’m typing, Austin, Cappa, and Emily set up a rotation to wake Logan every two hours, just to be on the safe side. When I look up, Logan’s doling out bedrooms to everyone who is staying, and Emily’s slipped over to stand at my side.
“Would you be okay in my little room, Max? Sable’s scared by all the people and you have the feet he likes to sleep on the most.”
I grin at her. Her deranged cat does like to sleep on my feet, that’s true. “Yeah, girlie-girl, that would be great.”
“The bed’s all made up. Could I ask you to help me bring down some pillows and blankets for the playroom and the couches, so Dana and Austin have a place to sleep?”
“Of course, sweetie.” I put away my phone and help Emily make up beds for everyone. Watching Logan haul himself up the stairs, limping and leaning heavily on the banister, makes my gut knot again. I’m about to offer to help him when Austin gets there first.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs and watching their painful progress, I feel movement beside me and glance over at DirtyGurl as she comes to stand beside me.
“I can tell you have a lot of love for him,” she says quietly. “And Emmy. That was a nice thing you did earlier, asking for coffee. It settled her.”
“It felt like the right move. Isn’t your crucifixion imminent?”
She laughs. She has a great laugh, low and warm and somehow uninhibited. It helps loosen the tightness in my belly. “They’re not really going to crucify me, you know. Just in case you were worried.”
“I figured. I mean, I don’t get what the hell is going on between you guys, but I get it’s just a figure of speech.”
“Weeell,” she drawls. “Not entirely. Not with this crowd. But nothing ever happens without the submissive’s consent. You understand that, right? I don’t know how much Logan and Emily have told you about the club, but it’s all consensual.”
“I got that and I, uh, read about it.”
DirtyGurl laughs again, but it’s not an unkind laugh. “I sense a convert. Logan will probably answer your questions, but if he doesn’t, or if you want another perspective, feel free to call me. Emmy’ll give you my number.”
“I won’t get you in trouble if I take you up on that? Sounds like a bunch of people already own your ass.”
She shakes her head, dreadlocks swinging around her shoulders, mouth stretched in a grin. “My ass is only available for short-term rental, and I can already tell you’re going to break a lot of subbies’ hearts. G’night, Master Max.”
“Pretty sure I haven’t earned that yet, but goodnight, girlie.”
She winks at me. “It’s not the title, or how many people you’ve topped. It’s the mindset that’s important, and you’re already well on the way. You’ll do fine.”
She turns on her bare heel—at a guess, it’s her Docs next to mine at the door—and disappears back into the great room to head down into the basement where she’s sleeping with Mr. Upper West Side and an older woman who hasn’t said much tonight but has been watching Logan like she’s his mother, which I know she isn’t because Logan’s parents died in a big car crash a few years ago.
I take that as my cue to head upstairs. There are three bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor of Logan’s townhouse. Which means there are six of us sharing the bathroom. Not ideal. I wait until its free then duck in quickly to brush my teeth and empty my bladder and get out of everyone’s way.
Emily’s one-eyed, black-and-white cat, who probably weighs all of five pounds but thinks he’s a puma, is waiting for me on the day bed. He growls when I turn back the covers, so I take a minute to pet him. “You’ll let me sleep with you, boy, won’t you?”
He blinks at me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up with claws either in my feet or chest at some point in the night.
His fur is soft and silky under my fingers.
I think Emily’s been brushing him. The tactile pleasure of petting the cat runs through me, raising goosebumps on my arms and causing my balls to tighten.
I grimace at my own perversion before climbing into bed.
The bed’s long enough for me, but narrow and when I roll over a few hours later, I find myself right at the edge of the mattress. The cat immediately thumps down at my back, trapping me at the edge. “Sable,” I grumble.
The cat purrs.
I huff and resign myself to sleeping on an eighth of the mattress.