Chapter 3 #2
I chewed and watched him hesitantly, thinking things over.
It would be nice to see the place with my own eyes.
I’d taken the 360-degree tour online twice already, and I was super curious.
Also, Ash in his Daddy mode would find a way to make me comfortable.
So would James, for that matter. He’d always been a pro at that.
And if one or two of the Brat Squad members had the time to stop by, I’d be over that threshold too.
“If I do this,” I said, swallowing my food, “can I get a cookie?”
James flashed a disarming smile. “You bet, baby.”
All right…
Why do you think he will react badly? He’s not some fuckboy on a hookup app.
But, ohhhh!
I clutched my stomach and continued pacing the hallway. I didn’t even know why; James had told me he and Ash would be late. I could run upstairs and hide under the bed for another hour.
Every time I walked past the hallway mirror, I flipped myself off because I was being ridiculous. And childish. And yeah, maybe I had a problem postponing things and procrastinating.
For starters, if I behaved like a reasonable adult, I would drive out to Mclean myself and let James and Ash know I’d simply see them there. They were on a worksite closer to Mclean anyway, so they would have to drive all the way over here, pick me up, and then head out again. Stupid.
How ironic was it that I thought everyone else was too slow doing stuff, and here I was, slower than a sloth?
The hits kept coming today, though, so I just wanted to hide. As if possibly meeting new friends and visiting House Mclean for the first time today wasn’t enough, James had reminded me I still hadn’t divulged all my limits to Daddy Ash.
My phone buzzed again, and I figured it was James.
Except it was Noa.
That dickhead is at the house today. Im gonna head out there now.
Oh no, that didn’t seem wise at all. I mean, I was happy he was all right—at least, that’s what he’d told me last night in a text—but messaging didn’t reveal everything. Corey and I theorized that Noa was angry. Which didn’t seem far off if he was, what, planning on confronting the online troll?
I texted back.
Is that smart? Did you tell your Owners? Where are you now?
I’d told everyone in our group chat that I was probably going out there today with Ash and my husband, and Noa had been the first to mention he got off work at three PM and wanted to see me. Kit was gonna be there too. Camden was in Nashville, Corey was out in Winchester, and Gael had work.
Noa responded.
Im at home. Or I was. I just left for the bus. I wanna c if his balls r as big when hes not behind a screen. Youre coming out later right?
“Dammit,” I whispered.
I didn’t know the protocol here. Did I support my friend, or did I tell someone? Should I text Kit? He was supposedly at the house already. Did I message Master Lucian? He was a Founder of the community, so you didn’t need to be friends with him online in order to send a DM. Or should I text Ash?
I ran a hand through my hair and caught a glimpse of my reflection, halting my movement.
Don’t be such a coward.
Funny how easy it was to be brave when you risked nothing.
I hated this part of me. Especially since I wasn’t afraid by nature in other aspects of my life. I was even confident. I was outgoing and social.
Drive out to House Mclean.
Your car key is right there in the bowl.
You changed out of your jammies.
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
I snarled to myself, grabbed my keys, and stalked out before I could change my mind.
Time to text James that I was heading out there on my own.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up!”
Or don’t. That was also a choice, I guessed.
I tossed the phone next to me before making a turn.
I was almost in Mclean, and so far, nobody had picked up the damn phone!
I’d called James, I’d called Ash, I’d called Noa, and I’d even called Kit.
People didn’t freaking know how far outside my comfort zone I was with this nonsense.
I didn’t like being on the phone with people I loved; calling online friends I’d never met in person was close to torture!
My worry here wasn’t the risk of Noa getting into a fight. It was about the people not liking me. The Brat Squad and Ash’s friends, that was. Not the fucking troll. I’d happily assist Noa in a fight against that dipshit.
I’d struggled to make friends my whole life.
Always for the same reason. I was too shy in the beginning.
I knew logically—and from experience—that once I got past that hurdle, everything was fine.
But I couldn’t stomach rejection well, and the few times relationships and friendships hadn’t worked out, it’d almost crushed me.
I eyed the GPS and felt my stomach tighten with nerves and unease. Four minutes until I was at my destination. Four freaking minutes.
Had I dressed okay? I’d never been to a kink mansion before. I’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but what if they required latex and leather?
At least it was my brat tee. Plain black with bold white lettering. All caps, of course.
brAT.
Because it deserved to be shouted from the rooftops.
Releasing an unsteady breath, I made another turn and saw the ticker go down to three minutes.
James better get me four cookies after this!
Just when I thought I couldn’t get more nervous, I was suddenly facing my last turn, and it was down a dirt road lined with trees and shrubs. I swallowed hard. This was it. At the end of the road, I’d see House Mclean. The big, three-story, black-painted Victorian building I’d seen online.
Here goes.
Actually, six cookies. I was going to require six cookies.
The gravel crunched under my tires, and I patted the dash in a silent apology. My little Audi Roadster wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. Since it was only a two-seater, James and I always used his truck when we were going someplace together. My car was how I got to work, and that was all.
My uncle had given it to me. He imported and exported cars for a living, and he’d hoped this one would get me interested in cars.
It hadn’t. But I still loved it. As long as I never retracted the roof, because that was how it got stuck.
Nothing would make me happier right now than if I spotted Noa walking along the dirt road. It had to be quite a trek from the nearest bus station to here. Which meant I had no idea how long he was gonna take. Was he here already?
Why did nobody answer their fucking messages?!
It was almost four PM, for the love of monkey bread.
A beat later, the grand estate came into view in the distance.
Eight cookies!
I sped up a little because I couldn’t handle the suffering anymore, and I ended up in a circular driveway of some sort with a giant carport to the left side.
Many cars could fit in there, though I only counted five of them now, and two of them were parked to the side.
Were the spots reserved? Maybe I should park outside too.
Yeah. Okay, so that was what I did, all while trying not to shit my pants.
I was here. I was officially here.
The house was still a bit away. The front lawn was huge.
Still nothing on my phone, so I slid on my Ray-Bans and climbed out of my car. I had to get this over with. No turning back. No chaperone. All by my lonesome.
Be cool and then you can get your ten cookies.
I strode toward the house, checking my phone every two or three seconds.
I noticed I could walk alongside the house to get to the back, where I knew members hung out most of the time.
And my priority now was to find Kit. Say hi to him and explain that Noa was probably going to confront the troll from last night.
I’d looked at the idiot’s profile, and he was semi-active in the orgy community.
Because that was a thing here. They had a group of members who were mostly here to host orgies.
Were those the so-called Founders’ cabins?
I’d seen pictures of them too. Six of them along the left side of the property in the back—oh shit.
I came to an abrupt stop when I spotted someone scurrying from one of those A-frame cabins.
Was that Kit? It sort of reminded me of him from his profile photo.
“Daddy, I need your help,” I heard him say.
Fuck, fuck. Okay, I chickened out. The main door was wide open, so I went that way instead.
Up the porch steps and inside. Phew. It was actually cooler in here than outside right now.
The lobby was empty. Definitely grand. Countless photos on the walls.
Everything was painted dark, even the wide stairs leading up.
No one was at the little front desk either, not that I expected staff around here.
I’d read enough posts to get an idea that the house sort of ran itself outside events.
They had protocols in place for renting rooms and reserving playtime areas.
I removed my shades and tucked them into the neckline of my tee.
Up next had to be the club area. I walked closer, and it was so big and wide open.
Plus, the circular bar was kind of telling.
I aimed for the patio doors, the one that was slid open a couple of feet. No sign of Noa. No sign of anyone in here.
A big curtain was blocking the sliding doors that were closed, so I felt safe there.
“You could also admit you’re wrong, li’l darlin’,” someone was saying. Given the accent, it had to be Mister Colt, one of Kit’s Daddies.
“If I am wrong, I will,” Kit huffed. It had to be Kit. “But look, read here. It starts with this comment—then scroll down.”
Were they discussing the troll? But the comment had been deleted.
“Wait, you’re usin’ my phone to fight Navy fanboys online?”
Yup, it was Kit and his Daddy. Kit was obsessed with military stuffs.
“Mine’s charging.”
“All right… Uh, lemme read. This here?”
“Yes, Sir.”
They were clearly busy, so maybe I should go wait out front.
“This comment’s wrong,” Mister Colt said.
“Crap. That’s mine.”
“Sorry, baby. But at that many Gs, you’ll lose blood in your brain, you’ll gray out—”