Chapter 15
Freddie
“You,” I say breathlessly.
“You,” he smiles back, his wide grin showing his perfect white teeth. He has dimples, cute.
“What are the chances?” I cackle as I close the heavy door behind me and step into the room.
My kilt is custom-made and swings as it sits low on my hips.
He watches as it sways with my walk. The hottie fiddles with the silver bracelets on his hairy wrist but continues to meet my gaze with the same sparkle I have in mine.
I can see the muscles on either side of his jaw pulse as if he’s holding back from saying something.
He exhales heavy through his nose and I realise I’ve been holding my breath too.
“I was thinking the same thing. You’re the Flaming Scot? How did I not connect that with your accent the twice we met already?” he laughs as I pull out my seat.
“Well, it’s great to meet you officially.
I’ve been after your name since the airport.
I… well, I’m not sure you’ll even remember that,” he tells me awkwardly, a hand going to the back of his neck as he watches me with those luminous brown eyes.
Seated this close to him now, I can see small flecks of amber.
“I do. I do remember,” I assure him, although I worry I’m sounding a little desperate, but it’s only because I’m so dumbfounded that this latex-liking, sexy Dom is the man from the airport that I slipped and chucked my drink over.
“Simmons,” he says as he pushes his huge paw out in front of me.
It’s so hairy and veiny. I swallow before taking it in my own before meeting his gaze again.
Can he feel this intensity, too? If sparks like this keep flying, there’s going to be an electrical fire with all the recording equipment around us.
Simmons lifts my hand to his full lips and places a kiss on the back.
Shivering, my touch-starved body reacts instantly.
Get a grip Freddie, this guy has salt and pepper in his hair and beard, which means he’s seasoned in the dating game.
Unlike me, who was all talk and no action.
Grinning, I watch as he places my hand back onto my kilt and his fingers linger on the latex for a beat.
He grunts and I catch his eyes slip closed before he clears his through as if remembering where we are.
I should probably do that too instead of trying in on with a guy while working.
I’ve never put anything or anyone above working, and as much as this honey bear is tempting me, I can’t fool around with him.
Well, not until the interview is done, anyway.
“I rarely do this, because of the whole anon thing,” I say as I use my free hand to wave around at the interview setup. “But it’s only fair since we met way before this. I’m Freddie.”
“Freddie. Well, I can’t say it doesn’t thrill me that you’ve let me be your first,” he tells me with a wink.
My mouth drops open at his statement, and I know he doesn’t mean it like that, so I quickly school my face.
This is still technically work for me, so I have to draw a line in the professional sand at some point.
“Shall we get started?” I ask, moving around him to adjust the ring light, even though I know the team that set it up did an amazing job.
I just need to do something other than maul him. Despite the tension in the room, I don’t want him to think I’m young and immature. That I can’t do my job correctly. I move to my seat across from him again, catching his scent. He smells sweet, like honey. Fitting for his size and appearance.
“Sure,” he bobs his head, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple nodding at me too.
Seems I’m not the only one holding back.
And shit, that just makes me hotter for him.
Why did I choose today of all days to be a true Scotsman under this kilt and not cage my cock? Crossed legs for the interview it is.
“Don’t be nervous, it’s just us and if we fuck anything up, I can edit it out.
I don’t appear on camera in my videos, and sometimes I don’t even use the footage.
You, however, are too stunning not to be on my website.
Sorry,” I chirp as I grab the bottle of water Blair’s left out for me, taking a couple of sips before recapping it.
Simmons is still smirking, staring intensely as I click record.
I swear he checks me out for the dozenth time before I even have my intro out of the way.
I can’t say I don’t love the attention coming from him.
He isn’t being discrete about it either.
I uncross and cross my bare legs to tease him a little, a thrill buzzing my skin as his eyes flick down.
His face tells me he’s wondering if I kept the tradition of going without underwear under my kilt.
Simmons fiddles with his bracelets again, and I can see through the mesh black top he’s wearing that his nipples have pebbled under the dark hair that takes up every inch of his chest.
Licking my lips, I picture myself on my knees in a cage, Simmons only allowing me to lick and suck them with no form of release.
I catch my moan just as it forces its way to the top of my throat.
This has got to be the hardest I’ve ever been and the hardest interview I’ve done in the years since starting The Flaming Scot.
“Okay, welcome, Simmons. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me for The Flaming Scot. I understand you are here on behalf of the owner of Nyctra, who couldn’t be here today?
” I start the interview. Simmons looks relaxed, happy even, like this is a comfort zone for him.
His own legs crossed, he flicks his Doc Marten a little as he chats to me.
“Yes, he sends his apologies. I hope I can be a good enough substitute,” he smiles all teeth with his answer. I lick my lips as I watch him speak, and he definitely catches it, sending another of those wicked winks my way.
"Um… where’s my notes," I mumble as I flick through them, completely losing my composure. Get it together, you tit, I tell myself as I look down at my clipboard, which has all the information I usually have memorised on it. What does this man do for a living? He’d make a good cop cause with the intensity of his stare, I would confess to anything.
Swallowing, I look down at the next question.
“Well, I’m sure fans of the blog will definitely appreciate your good deed, especially since you dressed up for the occasion. Are you wearing brands that the club exclusively works with?”
He answers professionally, pointing out each brand, right down to the belt buckle that is custom-made for the club.
He links each to the vendors out in the exhibition hall.
I wonder if he’s actually a salesman outside of the kink world; he definitely has a natural flair for it.
I nod along, not taking even a second for granted to check him out while he speaks.
Would it be a bad idea to go there with Simmons?
Well, we didn’t know one another in a professional capacity when we agreed to find each other at the expo this morning in the locker room.
Things have changed a little now. I mean, I’m interviewing him for a club I might one day want to tour or even join.
If we hooked up, would that ruin my chances?
Or if this goes sideways, I might have blown my chance at being taken seriously by other club owners if word got out that I hook up at expos with guys I interview.
Despite all that, I hope we could meet up after this.
Simmons would be the exception. He wasn’t just anyone.
It was too coincidental to have met so many times.
Even more so to have this kind of mutual kink.
I have to know what else he’s into. My dick tries to stir again, which has me thinking images of my 65-year-old Aunt Brenda’s drunken strip at her birthday last year to calm myself down.
I ask him a few more questions about the interior of the club, which again he answers with grace like he isn’t describing a kink club where people watch others being beaten, fucked, and pleasured.
“Well, you certainly know your stuff. Have you been a member of Nyctra long?”
Simmons licks over his teeth as he nods, thinking about his answer. He leans closer. ”Yeah, a good few years now. Burt and I go way back. He was actually the one to train me in becoming a Dom.”
“Oh, wow. So you’ve seen your share of what goes on there then?” My intrigue spikes knowing he’s a Dom, adding another sexy layer to the man.
“Yes. I don’t make it to as many nights as I did before, but I always show up to support all the events.
There are kink 101 workshops every month for new members and other workshops by kinksters.
Even in my old age, I like to learn new things, experience new things,” he drawls, his eyes lustful as he meets my gaze.
My chest tightens at his attention, my palms are getting sweaty from his obvious flirting.
I smirk, biting back a huge grin. Maybe he could teach me some of those new things he’s been learning.
I give him my best sultry look to let him know I am very interested; his chest rising heavy in that shirt that shouldn’t look as good as it does on him.
I close my eyes for a second; I need to regain some composure.
Fuck, the interview needs to hurry the fuck up and end.
I forget what the fuck I’m saying a second time, looking down to find the next question on the clipboard. Silence stretches in the scorched room.
“You okay?” he asks quietly. I nod, not breaking eye contact as I take a shaky breath before continuing with the interview.
He reaches over and places a hand on my wrist, on the hand I’m holding the clipboard on.
He strokes his thumb over my pulse. Does he know that’s not soothing in any way?
Or is that the point of his little act? Unable to give a shit any longer, I allow him to keep caressing me there as I somehow continue ahead with more questions.