Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Count for me, Tart,” he ordered and then the first smack landed on my ass.
“Fuck, Seth! One. Couldn’t you start out a bit softer?”
Another smack, this one harder. I should have kept my mouth shut. “Two, Sir.”
Chapter 9
Seth
He’d taken fifteen hard swats before we’d entered the club. Before I’d finished with him, his gorgeous bubble butt had been a bright pink. With the last six, I’d had to grip his balls tightly to keep him from coming. He was so deliciously responsive. The spanking had been his punishment for sassing me, but he’d gotten the last word…and his punishment for me had been even worse.
He’d made me dance. I hated dancing. I could swing a whip with the grace of an Olympic ice skater, but when it came to dancing, I’d missed the gene.
On about the fifth song, he’d taken pity on me and told me I could grab us a table and some drinks. That was something I could do and do well. My size alone intimidated people to get out of my way. When I added an angry scowl to my face, they skittered like scared kittens. Before the next song had ended, I’d scored us a booth next to the dance floor and had me an Old Fashioned and him some fruity cocktail thing he’d asked for. I think he’d called it a Singapore Sling.
He hadn’t noticed I had a table for us yet. Of course, how could he? He was surrounded by other dancers and having the time of his life. The dancers around him were girls—there were always plenty of straight girls at gay clubs and somehow, they’d managed to swarm Baker like bees would a honey comb. The thing was, I wasn’t sure if that made me jealous or just a tad angry. I decided to let it be neither and just be thankful that the girls were keeping the majority of guys away from him.
Just when I congratulated myself on that accomplishment, two guys wrangled their way through the chicks and started bumping and grinding. I saw red. Pure red. And in my mind, it was their blood. When one of them reached out and touched Baker’s side, I stood up, ready to destroy the man who touched what belonged to me. Before I could take one step though, Baker’s head whipped around, and he smacked the guy’s hand away. There was a startled look on his face. Surrounded by women, who’d been touching him all night, I had no idea he’d known it was a guy, but apparently he had and it pissed him off. When he turned to rally against the first one, the second guy touched his side, just like the first one had, and he whipped around to face him. Both guys raised their hands in defeat, apologized, and stepped away.
Baker searched the crowd for me and I waved him over. He looked pissed. Good. My boy didn’t want another man touching him. I liked that. It made some silly feeling flow through my blood, warming it in a captivating way.
He stomped over toward me and collapsed into the booth. The frown was still plastered on his face as he grabbed his drink, shoved the straw into his mouth, and sucked nearly half of it down. “Stupid sons of bitches,” he muttered and then finished the rest of the drink with his second suck on the straw.
My mind, sick bastard it was, immediately went to how well he’d suck cock.
“What’s up, Sweet? You don’t like the boys touching you?” Him not wanting other men touching him definitely made him sweet instead of tart in my eyes.
“Nah,” he muttered then his eyes snapped up to me. “I mean, yeah, definitely, but that wasn’t the biggest problem. If it was just the guy thing, I would have pointed toward you and they would have high-tailed it to safety. I already had a plan in place.”
Another Singapore Sling magically slid in front of him. The waiter, a cute twink in go-go shorts said, “An apology from two assholes who apparently tried to feel you up on the dance floor.” He looked me up and down and, after melting into a puddle of goo, said, “As if you’d give them the time of day when you’re with this hunk of muscle.” He puffed some air out and added, “And you wearing a collar, too. Assholes. Enjoy the drink, cutie.”
With that, he flounced off and I turned my attention back to Baker. He’d already slurped down half the drink before I could tell him not to drink it. I never drank anything I didn’t watch the bartender fix himself and I wouldn’t have allowed Baker to, either. Looks like I was too late.
“What’s got you so fired up?” Suddenly it dawned on me. “Did they say something to you? Do I need to kick their asses?”