Chapter 5 #2
Venturing off-grid comes with its own advantages.
Agreeing to partake in play with any member of the OGB (Off-Grid Billionaires) entails that the participant in play understands that this is a no-strings-attached type of agreement, scheduled for a selected amount of time no shorter than one hour.
Going off-grid means you’re willing to step into your depraved side and experience what it means to feel with every single nerve.
OGB is an entity designed to protect all participants.
Any person, be it member of the OBG or a willing participant, who violates the terms of the contract forfeits the protection outlined herein, and is subject to persecution for blasphemy, slander or any other negative reaction due to personal details and pleasures being leaked.
OBG is bound by discretion and once the terms of the agreement are met, the participants can go to no-contact from that point forward.
Specific contacts through an OGB-protected line can be secured if additional ventures are desired by any participant.
Your sins are our pleasure to protect.
By agreeing to play with member(s) of OGB, you submit to all reaches of play.
Signed: Keith Lockwood
Applicants name:
Participant(s) safe word(s):
Participant(s) hard and soft limits:
I read it twice, then pick up the glass and slam the drink back. It’s more than a shot, and burns my throat and eyes as I swallow down the tawny liquid.
Coughing, I pound on my chest and stare through my watering eyes.
Keith stands on the opposite side of the counter from me, looking amused.
I fan a hand in front of my mouth, the alcohol intense.
This is strong. It’s probably better quality than the junk that I was drinking at the party and the burn is stronger, too.
“Water,” I gasp. He snorts and starts looking around, pulling a glass down while I cough. This liquid isn’t giving me courage; it’s giving my stomach-churning flashbacks to the trunk and I really don’t want to ruin his spotless kitchen by puking all over it.
“Water won’t help,” he tells me, popping a can of soda. “That’s actual sacrilege drinking water with this particular import, but if it’ll help—”
I swipe the can away before he wastes time pouring it, guzzling the soda until some of the burn subsides. Even my nose hurts. After the rush of storm chasing, this isn’t the kind of high that I need. I want the liquor to kick in, take me back to that carefree, happy place where I don’t overthink.
Setting aside the can, I don’t look at him as I pick up the pen to scribble my name. His palm presses over the line where I guess I’m supposed to sign, and I glance back up to him.
Headrush.
“Don’t sign,” he says seriously, his grey eyes glancing up and down as he studies me, “unless you mean it. Don’t let the alcohol impair your thoughts, girly.”
I press my lips together, holding his gaze. God I want to melt into those eyes and see if Keith is as wild as the storms he likes to chase. “I mean it.”
Pushing his hand away, I sign my name better than I expected: Hayden Carlisle.
As soon as the contract is signed, Keith picks it up and puts it on a counter across the room. He takes a sip of his drink instead of slamming it like I did. Licking my lips, I circle the island so we can stand together.
Then I throw my arms around him, whiskey glass be damned, and kiss him.
He stumbles back a step in surprise, dragging me with him, and I cling to his body as one arm wraps around me.
His lips slant over mine as I kiss him, and I don’t give a damn if the kissing is kind of sloppy and wet and his tongue tastes like the spiced liquor he handed me.
Keith takes a sharp breath, twisting us around, and I lose focus on anything but the feel of his body pressing mine against the corner of the counter.
His tongue slips into my mouth and I moan into his.
My hands explore the hard planes of his body as I drag the fabric up his torso with my fingers, seeking the heat of his skin.
Keith pulls back from kissing me just long enough to tear his shirt over his head, and my ass slips down the side of the counter a little.
It gives me a silly idea, one I blame on the alcohol.
Shoving him backward I smirk, landing a little clumsily on my feet. Grinning at him, the confusion on his face washes away to curiosity, and I start backing up, waving my hands around so I hopefully don’t fall into anything.
I could just let him fuck me on the countertop, but where’s the fun in that?
“Come and catch me!” I yell, spinning and heading down the long hall. I don’t have any idea where I’m going, and I trip over the expensive rug as I try and decide where to go. This house didn’t look like a maze outside in the dark, but now it feels like one.
Keith is laughing behind me. “Go on then, girly. Let’s see if you can hide.”
I grin, rushing forward. All the doors around here are closed, and I grab one handle at a time and throw the door open, only half checking what’s inside each one before moving on. I don’t hear his pursuit, but that makes me more worried than comfortable.
This is Keith’s house. Surely he knows how to sneak around. I don’t even know if this hall has an ending or if it loops someplace. I keep throwing doors open, looking back over my shoulder like he’s going to show up as a shadow in the bright hall, but there’s no one there.
It’s eerily. All I got was his laughter and now silence. Not even the sound of approaching steps.
At the end of the hall, the last door on the right catches my attention. Immediately across from the doorway there’s a wide window, looking out of the dark fields beyond. I pause my frantic run, taking a few seconds to look inside.
There’s a bed, a pair of expensive shoes kicked off near an ottoman and a long mirror on the opposite wall.
A glass with clear liquid sits half full on the bedside, and reminds me that I’m thirsty from running and panting down the hall.
The burn of the liquor is gone, swirling in my belly, and my hands clasp my knees as I pause to breathe.
This has to be Keith’s bedroom. I thought he hadn't been here in a long time, but maybe he stopped over before chasing the storm. I wasn’t in the bathroom that long earlier.
Stepping into the room, my gaze locks on the window.
It takes up nearly the entire wall, with cutouts that create smaller shapes in the glass, like looking through a work of art.
Mood lighting from a small lamp illuminates the space in a warm glow, and it makes me think of rich men who sit by the fire and admire the world while sitting in a robe with a half-full snifter of brandy in their hand.
That makes me laugh, and I stumble over to press my hands to the glass. Keith has a fantastic body. I can’t imagine him wearing a fluffy robe like the image in my head, even if it is funny.
If I’m being honest, it really isn’t that funny, but I’m laughing anyway. A snort escapes, and then I’m laughing hard, my whole frame shaking. I should’ve had more to eat before drinking again, and my brain is back to that semi-cloudy, happy place from before.
As I look out into the dark, I vaguely recognize a figure in the glass around my laughter. It draws a moan from my lips when Keith presses his hands near my head, pushing my cheek to the glass and his hips flush to my ass.
He bends down, his chuckle going straight to my core as he speaks. “You’re better at chasing the storms than hiding from them, girly.”