2018 #2
Fourteen months suddenly feels less like an interesting statistic and more like a personal emergency.
My gaze returns to his first picture.
Fuck. He is delicious.
Twenty-four.
A little younger than I usually go for, but nowhere near young enough to be disqualifying. Piercing blue eyes, full pink lips, and a five o'clock shadow I know with complete certainty would leave a glorious burn on my inner thighs.
I can work with twenty-four.
My profile says I'm twenty-six, which is a bald-faced fucking lie considering I'm turning thirty in a matter of weeks, but that's Future Rose's ethical dilemma. Present day Rose has been celibate for fourteen months and is rapidly losing interest in technicalities.
I click the heart before I finish the thought.
“We are going to head out.”
Tyler materializes at my elbow, holding the older man's hand and grinning like someone whose night just got considerably better than mine.
“Of course you are.”
“Don't stay down here too late. It's a school night, miss.” He waves in typical Tyler fashion, already halfway toward the door before I've had a chance to properly insult him.
The man with him gives me a slow once-over, openly adjusts his dick through his pants, and follows Tyler without saying a word.
I stare after them.
“Are all men douches?”
“Fuck 'em and leave 'em, babes. It's the only way.”
Jade drops back onto the stool beside me, looking pleasantly disheveled, her lipstick slightly smeared and her hair no longer arranged the way it was twenty minutes ago.
I look her over. “Where the hell have you been?”
Her smile turns filthy. “That man's tongue is going to be my favorite roller coaster tonight.”
“Jesus Christ.”
She holds up a hotel keycard between two fingers.
My eyebrows rise.
“He's staying here. Already gave me this.” She tucks the card into her bra with a satisfied little wiggle before reaching for what remains of her drink. “Which means you get the hotel room to yourself tonight.”
“How generous of you.”
“I know. I'm an excellent friend.” She drains the last of her glass and sets it down, then tilts her head when she notices my phone. “Make good use of it, okay?”
“I plan to sleep diagonally across both beds.”
“No.” She catches my wrist before I can put my phone away. “By good use, I mean find someone to fuck.”
“Subtle.”
“I've been subtle for fourteen months. Subtle clearly isn't working.”
“You have not been subtle a single day since I've known you.”
“Fine. Then I've been patient.”
I laugh and try to pull my hand back, but she catches sight of the profile still open on my screen.
Her entire expression changes.
“Well, hello.”
Jade takes the phone before I can stop her and holds it farther away when I reach for it.
“Give me my phone.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Nobody yet.”
“Twenty-four.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Rosalie.”
“Don't.”
She swipes.
“Jade.”
Another swipe. Then she looks at me.
“Fuck sleeping diagonally.”
I snatch my phone back. “Thank you.”
“No, seriously. Find him.”
“I already liked his profile.”
“And?”
“And now I wait to see if he likes mine.”
She stares at me for a minute. “That's your plan?”
“That's how the app works.”
Before we can argue anymore, my phone dings with the very specific notification sound that has my attention snapping down to the screen.
Jackoftrades20: If I rob this hotel bar, will you be my lawyer?
Jade's mouth drops open as she reads the message over my shoulder. Then her eyes travel pointedly down to my lap before coming back to my face.
“Your thighs are clenched.”
I immediately separate them, which only makes her grin widen.
“Fuck you.”
“Not tonight, babes.” She kisses my cheek. “You've got Blondie for that.”
“Go. I'll be fine.”
Her expression softens just enough to make me regret saying it because I know what's coming next.
“Tomorrow will be better than today.”
Another peck lands against my cheek before I can tell her to stop being sweet to me, and then she's gone, heels clicking across the floor toward the elevator with Brandon's keycard tucked warmly into her bra.
I watch until the doors close behind her before looking back down at my phone.
If I rob this hotel bar, will you be my lawyer?
A smile spreads across my face, and I don't realize until this exact moment how badly I needed one.
Then I laugh.
I can't help it. It's so fucking cheesy. Not even good cheesy. The kind of line that should earn an immediate eye roll and possibly disqualify him from having that face, but instead I'm sitting alone at the bar grinning down at my phone like an idiot.
I glance at his profile picture again.
Pretty and funny.
Dangerous combination.
My fingers hover over the keyboard while I consider how much effort I'm willing to put into this.
The entire point of opening RAG tonight was to avoid effort.
Find someone attractive, establish compatibility, scratch an increasingly persistent fourteen-month itch and go back upstairs with significantly less tension in my shoulders.
I don't need banter.
I definitely don't need charming.
And yet I'm still smiling when I type.
Rosepetal01: You can do better than that. Get to the bar and buy me a drink. I’m having whiskey on the rocks. I’m in a red top and black skirt, and no shoes.
I close the app and wait.
It doesn't take long before the sexiest man I've seen in a very long time sidles up to the bar.
“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” he tells Brandon first, which I appreciate. Then the full weight of those blue eyes lands on me for the first time in person. “Hello, Rosepetal.”
“Hello, Jackoftrades.”
I take my time, letting my gaze move over him and making absolutely no apology for it. The jawline. The shoulders. The mouth. Everything the profile promised and then some.
I cross my legs and tilt my head. “Are you staying at the hotel, or are you here to pick up women?”
His mouth opens.
I lean forward and press one finger against his lips before he gets a word out.
“And don't lie to me.”
His breath catches.
Interesting.
Up close, he is even more infuriatingly handsome, and the way those blue eyes drop to my finger against his mouth for just a fraction of a second before finding mine again feels like he’s trying to decide if this is actually happening.
It is, sweetheart.
“I’m not staying at the hotel.” He says it like it was forced out of him. Like honesty is a muscle that he doesn’t usually have to flex this early in the evening.
I’ll reward him for that later.
“Go reserve a room.” I reach into my clutch and produce my credit card. “I’ll finish my drink.”
“I can take care of—”
I raise one hand and glare at him.
“Do as you’re told,” I say, “or this isn’t going to work out tonight.”
His throat works. Whatever he was going to say dissolves somewhere between his chest and his mouth. He just nods and takes the card from my fingers.
“Good boy.”
His pupils flare. He liked that.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he's fighting the instinct to smile, but he doesn't challenge me. He simply turns and heads toward the front desk with my credit card in his hand.
I watch him go.
Partly because I want to make sure he actually follows the instructions.
Mostly because his ass deserves my undivided attention.
Jesus.
I take another sip of whiskey and settle back against the stool.
Technically, I already have a room upstairs. It's sitting empty right now, and Jade isn't coming back tonight unless something goes spectacularly wrong with Mr. Roller-Coaster Tongue.
But technically isn't good enough, and I don't want anyone coming back unannounced and finding me in a compromising position, and I plan to be in many a compromising position.
***
The elevator ride up is quiet and tense, both of us painfully aware of the other without acknowledging it.
He's so much bigger than I realized when we were sitting down.
The moment he returned with my card and the room key and I stood beside him, he became a fucking Goliath.
Broad shoulders, easily over six feet, the kind of frame that takes up space without him having to try.
I'm pretty damn short, so most men clear me by several inches.
I'm used to that. What I'm not used to is a man his size fidgeting like he's the one in physical danger.
It's comical, really.
It's also deeply endearing, and I am going to enjoy every second of breaking him open.
The elevator doors slide apart, and our room is the first on the right.
He follows me inside without saying a word, waiting while I set my work bag on the floor and step out of my heels.
The loss of three inches makes the difference between us even more ridiculous, but when I turn around, he's still watching me like I'm the most dangerous thing in the room.
“How long have you been on RAG?”
“Um.” He shifts his weight, then seems to catch himself doing it. “I just got my vetting approved today.”
“Along with a few other apps, I'd guess. Cast a wide net, increase your chances.”
I take one slow step toward him and watch his expression shift.
“Remember what I said about lying, Jack.”
“Yeah.” Something moves across his face — surprise, maybe, that I read him that cleanly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don't be. We're here now, and you can leave any time you choose. No explanation required.”
“That won't be happening.”
He says it with more certainty than anything else he's said since we left the bar, enough that I study him for a moment before asking the question that's suddenly bothering me.
“Do you know what RAG actually is? What it's designed for?”
He hesitates.
Fuck.
“It's like Tinder. Grindr. Any other hookup app.”
“Not exactly.” I fold my arms and hold his gaze.
“RAG. Red, Amber, Green. It's a platform for Dominants and submissives. Switches. The traffic-light system is built around boundaries, consent, and comfort levels.” His face is giving me absolutely nothing now, which somehow tells me everything. “Does any of that ring a bell?”
Aaannnd…silence.
“Fuck.” I push a hand through my hair and turn away from him because I was really fucking looking forward to tonight. “You should go.”