Chapter 21 #2
“And get the oil too,” Linus adds, saving me from being pinned under Alistair’s stare for another second.
Thankfully, there’s a bottle of what seems to be oil in a monogrammed container sitting right on the corner.
As for my personal selection, it’s hard to pick.
Everything has the same AB initials, and I imagine walking into Evie’s office with an Alistair Blackwood butt plug in my pocket like some deranged Exhibit A.
It wouldn’t prove everything, but it would be one hell of a stepping stone toward making anyone believe the rest.
There are glass plugs, silk restraints, leather cuffs, nipple clamps, a short black crop, a coil of rope, two rubber cock rings, and, tucked along the edge like a mercy no one meant to leave there, a white feather wand.
I grab the feather.
“No,” Alistair booms clear across the deck.
I turn back toward the cart, certain he’s somehow seen the calculation on my face and disapproves of mercy. Great. What was I thinking?
I trade the feather for metal clamps connected by a thin chain, then hook the cock rings over one finger in case the first concession isn’t enough. This time, when I turn back with oil, clamps, and rings, Alistair nods.
If I charged him, I could probably knock him and his stupid throne clean off the deck. The thought is quick and hot, but as vindicating as that would feel, it would be too small. He doesn’t deserve a fall. He deserves to sit there and watch the whole empire come apart around him.
Linus takes the oil from me first, and I set the rest down on the table beside him.
“Thank you, slutty supply intern.”
I manage a passable grin and break for my empty chair beside Jake, where there’s wine and more shadows between me and Alistair.
Linus pours oil into one palm and rubs his hands together, slow enough that the slick sound quiets the table. Evan gives a quiet laugh, but it dies when Linus drags both shining hands down his chest.
I look at Jake, but he doesn’t look back.
He sits with his mouth closed and his hands loose on the arms of his chair, playing his part with a discipline I can’t match.
He doesn’t need reassurance. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him where to look, how much to smile, or whether his face is giving too much away.
Why do I?
I force my gaze back to the table.
Linus hooks the clamps over one finger and gives Dae’s blindfolded face a sympathetic pout. “These are a gift from Marcus.”
“Goodie,” Dae says.
The first clamp bites down, and Dae jerks against the restraints, a sound punched out of him before he can lock it behind his lips.
In front of him, Evan laughs like the reaction means he’s winning.
The second clamp follows, linked by a thin chain that settles beneath the necklace on Dae’s oiled chest. His whole body tightens around the pain, shoulders locked and stomach rigid as he fights to stay under control.
His cock hardens anyway, pressing a new shape into the black briefs. From my angle, all I can see is the shape straining against the fabric and the slight pull at the corner of his mouth.
“Still not my type,” Dae grits out.
“No?” Linus says, giving the chain the lightest possible tug. “Then this should be easy.”
The table loves that. Alistair’s smile sharpens, satisfied by how cleanly the room obeys him.
I try not to hate him so visibly.
Linus picks up the same silver shears he discarded on the table. He hooks one finger under the waistband of Evan’s briefs, and Evan’s grin spreads wider.
“Careful,” Evan says. “These are expensive.”
“Send the bill to Alistair.”
Evan barely has time to enjoy the joke before Linus cuts through his briefs and tugs the ruined fabric aside.
His cock springs free, hard enough to slap against his stomach, the flushed head already wet.
His smile survives only until Linus’s oiled hand closes around him. Then it breaks into a startled laugh.
I look at Jake again and get nothing in return.
Why do I need him to look at me? Why do I need this man’s help to sit still and bear witness to something I came here to expose? This is the job. This is the story. This is exactly why I lied my way here.
Linus rolls one of the rings between his slick fingers. “You boys were very brave volunteering.”
“I didn’t volunteer,” Dae says.
Evan laughs again. “And I’m extremely brave.”
“You’re extremely hard,” Linus says.
“I’m bored,” Evan shoots back. “I’ve had more intimidating warmups at hotel gyms.”
Linus grunts like he appreciates the effort, then works the ring down Evan’s shaft until it settles tight at the base. Evan’s mouth opens, but the pressure steals whatever he meant to say.
Linus points across the table. “Your turn. Pick something.”
One of the men hurries to the cart and returns with a slim metal wand, glancing at Alistair before handing it over.
The shears flash, and Dae’s briefs fall open as the table gets one more piece of him.
Linus takes his time with the wand, dragging its rounded metal tip along the chain between the clamps before sliding lower over Dae’s hard cock.
Dae’s hips twitch against the restraints, enough for the table to notice.
By the time Linus works the second ring onto him, Dae has gone perfectly still again, except for his fingers flexing against the arms of the chair.
“Still nowhere close,” Dae mutters.
“Good,” Linus says. “Because I haven’t even gotten started.”
He kneels between the chairs.
The laughter thins into something hungrier as Linus takes Evan and Dae in hand.
Oil shines between his fingers, his rhythm immediately deliberate.
Evan’s hips jerk before he remembers he’s supposed to be above this, and Dae grips the arms of the chair harder, every muscle in his stomach jumping as Linus strokes them in earnest.
On the other side of the table, two men who weren’t chosen have started kissing, one climbing over Linus’s empty chair into the other’s lap.
They’re performing too. Everyone is. The whole deck has tilted into something feverish, every man trying to prove Alistair can’t give him anything he won’t learn to want.
One of the unchosen volunteers stands suddenly, red-faced as he fumbles with his belt.
“Oh my god,” I mutter.
He shoves his pants down like he’s auditioning for a better seat in hell.
I look at Alistair before I can stop myself. He’s pleased, no doubt reading some profound bullshit theory into what men become when obedience looks enough like desire.
My gaze slides past him.
Jake is finally looking at me.
The noise drops back. Linus is still working, oil and sweat shining on his forearms, one hand stroking steadily over Evan while the other keeps Dae right on the edge. Both men keep swearing they’re nowhere close.
But Jake is looking at me, and his expression has changed. Whatever rule kept him calm all night is failing now. I can see it in his mouth, in the strain around his eyes, in the way he looks like he knows exactly what he shouldn’t do and wants it anyway.