Concentration Play (Leather and Lattes #5)

Chapter One

The flashing lights of Ouroboros were the same as James remembered.

They strobed through the windows, and the bass thumped steadily from the dance music inside, reverberating out the door.

Coming back to San Francisco should’ve been a chance to return to the familiar, but his time away changed him, to the point that even the familiar seemed foreign.

He ran a palm over his near-buzzed head as he passed the bouncer check and headed to the ticket counter to drop off his coat and get stamped.

His heart thrummed with nervous anticipation over what might lay inside.

Meg had invited him to the event as a welcome back—her way of reintegrating him in the scene—and he took the extended hand. He used to be so comfortable here, but tonight, when he looked through the crowds of kinksters in the club, he’d be surrounded by strangers.

James licked his lower lip and sucked in a breath.

Doing things alone still nagged at him, even a year later. A constant reminder of who should be here by his side.

He clutched his go-bag that he brought with him to most kink nights.

Meg promised him there would be plenty of toys to test out and play partners to engage with, but he needed the comfort of familiar implements.

She’d been a steadfast friend and the only reason he’d considered moving back.

His other plan was to go farther north, which might still come to fruition.

When he stepped inside Ouroborous’s main floor, he was transported years back by the throbbing music, pulsing lights, and writhing bodies on the dance floor.

He caught flashes of leather, latex, and plenty of bared skin.

The temperature rose from all the people crowded here, and he basked in the strong scent of sweat and leather in the air.

The need to let go tonight drove him to get out, in the hopes of finding a sub who liked pain.

Rarely did he meet anyone who matched his sadism with their masochism.

Not like Andrew had.

The dull ache emerged, as always. Unfamiliar faces used to excite him, but lately he craved familiarity—the scene he had before his life changed.

Before it shattered. James shoved those memories down.

Tonight, he wanted to live in the moment instead of the past, and kink was one of the few ways he knew how.

Past the flashing lights and dance floor, the corridor led to the area he wanted to be—the makeshift dungeon for the night, where scenes and demonstrations would be taking place.

Meg had carved her own niche in the community, and he wasn’t surprised.

She’d transformed into such a force. When they’d met, she had been submissive, but fast, he sensed she held an inner dominant within her, one he’d been happy to help coax out, even if they hadn’t ultimately ended up together.

James stepped into the dungeon, and his gaze settled on Meg in the flesh.

She stood on a platform, showing off finesse with a bullwhip tonight.

The sub on the cross wasn’t her husband, Tristan, but a sweet blonde with dreamy eyes even as she endured lash after lash.

The sight of her muscles tensing with each strike and then the haze that followed after made James’s blood hum.

His craving for the dynamic had grown with every passing week.

He missed the peace that delivering pain brought—so different from the type he’d been trying to crawl out from.

Meg’s black hair, crimson lips, and dark eyes stood out under the lights, as her all-black Domme attire highlighted her curves.

She wore leather for the shows, though she preferred casual for regular scenes—stretchy pants, tight shirts.

James liked leather himself. The headspace, the atmosphere, and the trappings of it all helped him get there.

Tonight, the black leather pants he’d owned for years felt buttery soft and worn, and his black chest harness was one of his favorites—and hadn’t gotten used for a time.

As much as he wanted to watch Meg show off her skills, restlessness percolated inside him, begging to be set free.

He wanted to seek out a play partner here, most likely a pick-up scene to get comfortable with his flogger again.

Finding something steady before scouting out a residence seemed presumptuous.

Felt a little too uncomfortable at that.

James prowled deeper into the club, past scenes on stages, filled with some people he’d met on his last visit to San Francisco.

Meg’s staff was tight-knit, and they were loyal, which he respected.

Talented too, apparently. Sloan was laid out on a spanking bench on one stage while his partners, Ezra and Kai, played with an electro kit on him.

Sloan’s moans traveled through the area with ease.

However, standing back and watching wouldn’t get James where he wanted to be tonight.

He headed to the massage tables and spanking benches lining the room, some empty, others already occupied.

His heart thudded hard. Once upon a time, he was good at putting himself out there.

Finding pick-up play was as easy as meeting a gaze across a room.

However, now…he’d lost touch with the scene, the community, the ease, everything.

“James?”

He spun to spot a familiar face approaching.

Nolan Turner was Meg’s marketing guy. He also happened to be a stunner.

Tonight, he wore a black kilt, shirtless, displaying his pale white skin and black and grayscale tattoos.

His vibrant green hair was pulled into a sexy low bun, and he had deep set brown eyes, lush lips, and an elegant chin.

He was tall and slender, with an alluring energy that snagged James’s attention last time he’d visited.

Nolan didn’t seem the type to fit in any boxes, which intrigued him.

“Heading to a scene?” James asked, his pulse quickening. Chances were, since Whipped was hosting the night, Nolan would be otherwise occupied.

“I’m not on deck for any demonstrations tonight,” Nolan said. “So I was hoping to get a flogging in, but my partner just texted me that she’s out. Sick and keeping her germs at home.”

“Smart,” James said dryly, though the frisson of hope fluttered inside him. “Still interested in a flogging?”

“You offering?” Nolan asked, his dark eyes flaring as he looked James over.

James wasn’t immune to the heated interest, the tingle traveling through his body, even if it was muted.

The shard of guilt fast followed, something he hadn’t yet managed to navigate out of yet.

However, his therapist had told him that the more time passed, the more he continued to move forward and live, the easier the shame and guilt would become to manage.

Tonight was a step in that direction.

“Yeah, I am,” James said, returning Nolan’s once-over with one of his own. The guy might have a lithe figure, but the curve of his ass and his muscular legs promised plenty to play with.

“Lead the way,” Nolan said, gesturing toward an unoccupied St. Andrew’s Cross a few feet away.

He hadn’t expected to find someone this easily, but he was relieved.

His play partner for the night was not only someone he’d met before but a guy who could be trusted.

Anyone Meg vouched for was solid in his book.

When he reached the St. Andrew’s Cross, he set his go-bag down and faced Nolan. “What are you looking for tonight? Let’s dive into your limits and preferences.”

Nolan tugged his low bun. “Let’s see. I’d love to get flogged long and hard,” he drawled, definite flirtation in his tone.

“I’m a pain slut, so I haven’t found many who can match my needs top-wise.

Looking forward to seeing what you can do.

” Oh yeah, that was a definite scan over his arms and torso.

James shivered at the attention, feeling far too good after so long.

“Just flogged or any other toys?” James asked. He’d brought his favorite flogger, along with a cluster cane that hadn’t been used in a while and a rubber tire thumper that packed a lot of sting.

“Start with flogging, and we’ll gauge on other toys,” Nolan said, eyebrow lifted. “Though now I’m curious what’s in your bag of tricks.”

He couldn’t help the grin that lifted his lips. “You’re about to find out.”

Nolan bit his lower lip, his coy expression luring him in.

“As far as limits, I need toys visibly sterilized before use, restraints on the looser side, and nothing around my neck. Things like shibari are a flat no. Not like we’re getting into negotiating other play at the moment, but no scat, piss play, blood.

Probably a few other issues that might come up, but for this current scene, that should cover the broad strokes. ”

Curiosity pricked at James over some of the limits, but he nodded.

“I’m fine with that. I’m also not into scat, piss play, or blood.

I don’t top for degradation kink, mummification, or dollification.

” Anything immobilizing tended to tweak some of James’s panic buttons, especially after taking care of Andrew in his final months.

However, Nolan would be a good fit for him tonight.

James tilted his chin. “So if you’re ready, strip down for me, and we’ll get you situated on the cross. ”

He was grateful he kept sterilizing wipes on hand, even though they’d have them available at the dungeon too.

This way, he didn’t have to go anywhere and could enjoy watching Nolan.

The man tilted forward to unlace his heavy black boots, placing the round bump of his ass front and center, and James wasn’t immune.

He ran wipes over his favorite green rawhide flogger while Nolan set his shoes aside, then undid the snaps on his kilt.

Underneath, he wore a sheer black jock, his cock nestled in the front.

When he turned to face the cross, his peach of an ass was on full display.

Damn.