This finishes out this story’s run as a Wednesday Brief. It’s been fun!
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Uncool #11
Bradley didn’t waste any time. I’d told Stewart all
about my morning at the Steelyard and he’d listened without a word. I could
tell he was disappointed Bradley hadn’t paid any attention at all to his
warning. That was probably the only thing that made him angry. He seemed happy
enough that I’d handled the meeting well.
“And you’re certain you would be all right with
seeing him again?”
“Yes.” In fact, I wanted to see Sir again. I’d resumed
thinking of him that way right after our meeting. Everything about him, from the
first time I heard his voice and felt his touch on Christmas Eve, to my last
sight of him at the Steelyard that morning, beckoned me to find out more.
“Good, because if there’s one thing for sure in this
world it’s that Bradley will follow up.”
Which he did that evening by inviting all three of
us—Stewart, Jase and me—to his shore home for New Year’s Eve.
Stewart recapped the invitation while I unwrapped
the last of the gifts I’d run out on a few days before. A sleek compact
portable charger for my electronic devices. An artisan coffee mug from the lady
next door, for whom I sometimes ran errands. Mistress Libby from The Club gave
me novelty smiley face nipple jewelry that sent Jase into a gale of giggles.
Mistress sometimes used me for bondage demonstrations because, unlike straight
male subs, I didn’t entertain fantasies about her and my cock. I liked her.
“Bradley’s party is invitation only. I doubt there
will be more than ten people, and most won’t be Club members.” Stewart and Jase
didn’t appear to think this was a problem, so neither did I. “What he’s asking
for is a joint bondage session for the entertainment of his guests.”
“Really?” Jase slanted a smile my way.
“You and Jase,” I reasoned out loud, “and him
and—me?”
“That’s right,” Stewart said evenly. “I know you
said you were willing to meet with him. But it’s quite a step from that to
submitting to him at a party.”
It’s true I’d been envisioning something more along
the line of grabbing coffee at Federal Donuts, or maybe trying that new pizza
place in Fairmount. What had I been thinking, teasing a man like Bradley with visions
of putting me in ropes again? Maybe because deep down that was exactly what I
wanted him to do?
“I can do that,” I told Stewart.
“You want to?” Stewart was good about nailing down
what I was really agreeing to do.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“It might be intense.”
“So was Christmas Eve.”
“You can change your mind at any time, even after we
get there. I talked with Reed and… he wants to do the right thing, if he or you
can ever figure out what that is.”
Maybe submission was that thing. It was something I
wanted, needed, and maybe what he wanted from me. If whatever happened at this
party didn’t work, if we couldn’t make it happen again, both of us would know
better than to waste more time. And Stewart would be on hand to make sure
nothing went down that I didn’t consent to.
* * * *
On the day of New Year’s Eve, Jase and I prepared
each other for the scene. Even though I wasn’t sure if I would be getting
fucked, I prepared for that too. By the time we were done, both of us were squeaky clean inside and out. Stewart
surprised me by not having me wear a butt plug, but he said I was going to be
Sir’s for the night and that would be for him to say once we got there.
Figuring I might as well show off my assets, I put
on a pair of tight jeans and a gray slut boy tank top with strategically
placed nipple tear to show a discreet gold nipple ring, then covered it all
with a hoodie because it was winter after all. Just before the car arrived, Jase
taunted me by wiggling his tight twink butt to let me know he was sporting a
large plug in his ass for the ride. Stewart sat between us in the town car and
I caught glimpses of Jase’s face from time to time, little smiles of surprise and
pleasure at whatever Stewart was doing to him.
Bradley’s place turned out to be somewhere in Ocean
County. When I got out of the car, I could smell the sea and hear waves
crashing past the moonlit, grassy dunes. The house sat far off the road and
away from any neighbors. Jase minced a bit as we walked past a few other cars,
none of them flashy but for a mammoth, exceedingly well-preserved Crown
Victoria. My grandfather had driven one of those.
Stewart appeared to know the man who opened the
door. They exchanged pleasantries until Bradley walked over. My heart nearly
stopped. Damn! Sir looked good in black. A black button down shirt and black
jeans with studs on the oversized fly gave him a sleek, predatory look made perfect by supple black leather boots. He spoke politely to Stewart and
acknowledged Jase, but his gaze devoured me the whole while. He led us through
the house to a big room with a stage at the center and oversize leather chaises and
chairs all around. The stage held a bondage frame, a low platform placed within
its struts, and two tables off to the side holding paraphernalia. The set up resembled
an intimate, cozy arena.
There were only three other couples: an older gay man
and his naked—and entirely hairless—slave from New York; a middle-aged couple dressed
head to toe in leather; and Mistress Libby with Charles, her dom husband. After
respectful introductions, which came with encouraging smiles from Libby and
Charles, Stewart handed me off to Sir with a quiet, “You’re in good hands.” Sir
then led me aside to a book lined alcove away from everyone else.
“Nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“I want to be sure of your safeword. Has it
changed?”
“Mississippi.”
“And your limits?”
“Same as on Christmas Eve.”
He appeared pleased that I trusted him to remember. “We’re good then.”
I gathered my nerve. “Sir?” He lifted an eyebrow,
and I could tell by the way his eyelids crinkled he was glad I’d called him
that. “You can do anything… with me, I mean. I trust you.”
“Stewart warned me you trust dominants too much, too
soon. Don’t you know that can get you in trouble?”
“Yes, but it also got me some red hot bondage sex on
Christmas Eve.”
“Liked that, did you?” Sir cocked his head to study
me more closely.
“It’s why I’m here. I don’t know if I can trust you
with much of anything else—but I do trust you as a dom, and so does Stewart.
Maybe bondage can be another way for us to know each other.”
He lifted his right hand toward my face and I closed
my eyes, focusing on the sensation as the backs of his fingers stroked my cheek.
How much could he tell? Could he see how even the hint of dominance awakened my need to please? His simple touch had caused my cock to fill and strain
against the zipper of my jeans. There was no missing the way my breath
quickened with arousal.
“You’re mine for the night, so—” he hooked a finger
into my jeans and my eyes opened with a blink, “—what’s under these?”
“Thong.”
“Sexy?”
I nodded. At least I thought it was.
“Take the jeans off, and the shirt too.”
Though he’d seen me naked before, I felt like I was
unveiling myself for the first time. I’m not sure how, but I felt Sir’s gaze on
my skin. He stood with his arms crossed, like some patron at the museum
admiring a work of art. One by one I removed the tank top, then the jeans. I
had a nice body. Youth is a great advantage for that and I worked on it, mostly
walking and tennis, to give definition to my muscles. A dusting of light hair covered
my chest, with a neat trail leading down into the leather
thong cupping my half-erect cock. I’d gone for a bondage look.
I quivered when Sir pressed a nipple between his
thumb and forefinger, squeezing down on the nipple ring while he assessed my
response. Of course both nipples hardened to begging peaks.
“Nice,” he said, “but far too plain. Let me fix
that.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a small velvet pouch, tipping it
to pour two bits of gold into his palm. Not just ordinary nipple bars, these
were custom: each had a beautifully wrought R on the left and a just as
beautiful B on the right.
With the expertise of a man accustomed to working
with nipple jewelry, Sir removed the little ring in my right nipple, replaced
it with one of the bars, and expertly capped it. He did the same to my left
nipple.When he was done, his initials adorned my chest. He might as well have
stamped me ‘Property of Reed Bradley’.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes, Sir.” I did. A lot.
“Maybe I’ll let you keep them after tonight.”
My damn cock liked that prospect so much I was rock
hard now. My outflanked brain screamed at me to slow
down, that this was just a scene and Sir was, at this point, just another dom Stewart
had agreed could use me. Trouble was, he was also a dom I wanted to use me.
He cupped my face with his hand and ran his thumb
across my lower lip, quirking a smile when I opened my mouth to caress his skin
with my tongue.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he murmured, raking his gaze over my face. “Being who you are, what you are… submissive souls are strong as steel, but they have to be because
their need exposes them to people who don’t have the first clue how to do anything but have a kinky fuck.”
So he knew about Asshole Jerk Boyfriends I-IV, then.
Shamefaced, I looked up into his eyes. All I saw was sympathy and heat.
“I’m a selfish sonofabitch, Carson. I want
everything you have to give. By the time this night is over, I want you to be
incapable of seeing anyone else in the room, none of them. You’ll see only me.
And you’ll feel only what I am doing to you.”
Would it have made a difference to tell him I
already did?
For the next hour, Sir kept me at his side. I sat on
the floor while he held court in one of the chairs, talking to his guests. He
cradled my head against his knee, fingers lightly combing my hair, and I let
the conversation flow around me until it became a pleasant drone. Even seeing
Stewart draw a mostly naked Jase into his arms for a kiss didn’t make me feel
excluded, as it so often did. It was hard to define what I felt with Sir—not
owned, exactly, despite the initials he’d placed on my nipples—but my
insecurity just sort of trickled away as I sensed how much my good behavior pleased him.
I’ve never been a bratty sub. Some doms like that,
but I was never able to pull it off. All I wanted to do was please. For most of my life, that got me into trouble, at least before I sorted it out and realized pleasing someone is different from being responsible for their happiness or success. I met far too many people who wanted access to what I had and never really wanted what I had to give.
Sometime later Sir touched my arm and when I looked
up he told me to stand. Stewart and Jase were standing already.
It was time. I stood and followed Sir’s instruction
to remove my thong. The only reason I wasn’t fully erect, like Jase, whose
slender cock was at full attention, was because I was unexpectedly
self-conscious. But then Sir resolved that lapse by standing behind me and
closing his fingers around my cock, which hardened in his hand with an
eagerness that rendered me weak.
“Shall we continue?” He put his lips beside my ear
and his voice caused me to quiver in his grasp.
“Please, Sir.”
The hand that had revived my cock released and moved
to my back, guiding me to the open space in the center of the room. Sir’s hand reminded
me, and everyone, who was in control. I kept my attention on Jase’s relaxed body
as we approached the heavy duty frame and intricate leather covered platform where
the scene would be played out. While Stewart placed a set of his favorite
stainless steel cock and ball clamps on Jase’s genitals, Sir began working
lengths of rope over my body, fashioning a harness for my chest and upper arms. Above my pecs, then below, he efficiently pulled and tugged the heavy strands over my muscles and skin, keeping it all in place with knots behind my back. I breathed deeply and steadily, my excitement growing as I felt each knot, each loop, tighten into a secure web. When done he guided me to
the platform and directed me onto it, spreading my knees so he could bind my
lower legs and ankles to the supporting rests.
Though there was barely any room left, Stewart had
Jase mount the platform also. A wide stainless steel ring clamped just behind the
pretty twink’s rosy and swollen glans. The gleaming circle held in place one of
the wicked sounds Stewart loved to insert into his sub’s urethra. Jase adored
cock torture, and ball and nipple torture too, meaning Stewart was sure to be
applying pinchers and clamps to those tender areas. I wasn’t sure how, though,
because Jase and I were face to face, so close our bodies bumped and his caged
erection nudged against my naked one. As I wobbled against Jase, Sir pulled my
arms behind my back and bound them.
He then secured the rope attached to my
chest harness to the bondage frame overhead.
I locked eyes with Jase as I realized what both doms
were doing. Jase winked and mouthed ‘Fun’ before Stewart did something to make
him gasp.
“You know what you want to do, pet,” Stewart growled
into Jase’s ear. Stewart had removed his shirt and his broad hairy chest looked
demonic in the reddish light that flooded the staging area. “Now do it.”
Jase’s pupils widened until his green irises were
mere rings and he leaned in, his bare body pressing against my roped chest. Because he was shorter, my nipples bumped above his. I looked down and noticed he was no longer wearing nipple jewelry. Then I gasped when he closed his mouth over mine.
Not fair! We’d kissed in public scenes before, as
part of a show and because kissing Jase was smoking hot. Sir’s watching guests
murmured and clearly thought so too. The way Jase’s lips worked at my mouth,
begging me to join in, made my heart race. I was a total slut when it came to
sex and Jase knew it.
Sir’s hand found the back of my neck and pressed
there for a moment, calming me and telling me he approved by gently pushing me
toward Jase. He wanted me to do this. That permission overcame all else and I kissed Jase back, our
mouths warring. We knelt so close to each other our cocks vied between our
trapped bodies. Jase wasn’t bound, but I was... tied, helpless… what could I do?
Knowing Sir was watching, enjoying my arousal and humiliation, only made me
want it more.
“You’re a pig, Stewart, not letting us see them like
this more often.” That was Libby, always vocal about what she liked.
“Apologies, ma’am, just making the world safe for
submission two subs at a time.”
Jase’s kisses ceased as he gasped again. He groaned
just a little and I knew Stewart was at work. And so was Sir.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured in my ear. I
felt him checking the harness, satisfying himself that everything was secure. “Only
thing is, I’m not done yet.”
I quivered, unable to do anything but submit as he
reached between my spread legs and worked a length of thinner rope around the
base of my genitals. He carefully wrapped the strand twice around my balls,
forcing them just a little away from my body, then used one more turn to bind the
root of my cock before tying it against my belly with a few expert loops around
my waist.
Cock bondage. Fuck… my shaft was so swollen and
hard.
Sir started stroking me, running his hands over my
body in ways that told me he understood how bondage affected me. It was more
than helplessness. The constant caress of rope on my skin made me sensitive. Ripples
of pleasure turned into waves as I resumed kissing Jase, harder this time. I
worried his lips and thrust my tongue into his open mouth. The cascade of need
Sir awakened in me found an outlet through Jase, whose wriggles and moans of
pleasure were driving me wild. Both of us were helpless, hungry, and obeying
our masters.
“Good boy,” Sir said. His words only succeeded in
sending more blood straight to my trapped cock and balls. He traced the rope work,
admiring either his expertise or my cock. Oh God. Nothing on Earth
could be harder than my cock was now, tied against my belly, hot and aching
and leaking precome, slicking Sir’s hand.
His fingers teased my cock head, circling the glans and tracing the ridge, finding that spot that made me squirm. He was the devil behind me, taking control of my cock. Now it was Jase’s mouth savaging mine as
I gasped on the edge. We were part a show, but I didn’t care. Kissing Jase
while being fondled by Sir was so fucking hot I had no other thought in my
head. The need to come trumped everything, but that wasn’t going to happen. Sir took hold of my balls and gently pulled them away from my body.
“You want more, don’t you?” Sir thumbed my aching
balls, causing me to buck in the ropes. He wasn’t really asking. “Well, I
want more, too.”
I had long since reached the tipping point where so
much sensation flooded my nerves what I was feeling could have been either
pleasure or pain. I could barely tell the difference. All I knew was I wanted
more, something Sir understood. He released my balls and began rubbing my ass,
not lightly, but hard, owning my exposed flesh. And then he hit me.
I yelped and despite the ropes my body leaped
forward, into Jase and away from the blow. The ropes prevented me from crashing
too hard.
My reaction wasn’t protest, but surprise. I had no
limit, hard or soft, against discipline. Sir’s palm smacking my ass
wasn’t a spanking, but an escalation. The sting shot through my nerves, pulling
focus off my cock as pain spread across my ass like fire. The next blow possessed
enough force to drive my body forward, slamming me into Jase again. Both of us
thrashed, cocks slick and grinding, the steel cuff of his cock device traveling
my overstimulated shaft. Jase kissed my neck as I quivered in the harness and gasped
with each hit. After every blow Sir rubbed the mark lovingly until it settled
into a warm burn. Every blow brought my bottom closer to being a hot coal…
round, red, with an eager, aching core.
The room faded away. Even Jase faded away. I sank
into sensation, a body held fast by rope and being used by a man who knew
exactly how to break me down. When Sir’s fingers, slick with lubricant—when had
he done that?—slid between my buttocks and across my hole, I pushed back,
craving them inside me, needing it like I needed air. But he just skated on past.
“I think you’re ready to give yourself over.” Sir
rubbed my abused, sensitive buttocks with one hand while he teased my hole with
the other. If assholes fluttered, mine was doing a dance trying to entice him to
enter.
“Please, oh please.” My damn ass was begging,
completely without shame. I tried to shove my buttocks back at him, but my
upper body bumped against Jase’s. The only thing between our sweating bodies
were strands of Jase’s long blond hair.
And then, surreally, Jase was moving away. How could that be? I looked down to see about a foot of space between our kneeling bodies. Oh fuck… the
platform we were on had two parts that moved on rails.
“Bend over,” Sir directed. “The ropes will support
you.” I obeyed and the harness snugged as I trusted my upper torso to the ropes, also pushing
back my ass, craving whatever he would ask from me next. The movement placed my
face practically in Jase’s groin. “See that nice cock in front of you? Lick
it.”
“Aw, fuck,” Jase said. It was more of a whimper.
Stewart was doing a number on him, pulling out all the stops. Little
clothespins decorated the Jase’s scrotum and I didn’t doubt for a moment he was
now wearing alligator clamps on his nips. And Sir had just ordered me to tease
the tortured twink’s clamped and swollen cock.
There was no way I could suck Jase’s cock because the
clamp on the outside and the sound on the inside made a blow job risky. All I could do was flick out my tongue and lick at the smooth surface and flared
rim of exposed glans and keep doing it no matter how much he begged. The lube from the sound didn’t taste particularly good, but Sir
wanted this and Stewart clearly approved and, strangely, I wanted it too. I was
so damn hot and into the scene I would have gone down on just about anything
for more of Sir’s hand on my ass.
“You want this, don’t you, Carson?” What vibrated in Sir’s voice
sounded more like accomplishment than scorn. “You so fucking want this.”
He pressed a finger slippery with lubricant against
my hole and I was so ready for it I barely felt any burn when he pushed inside. He circled lazily,
enjoying my tightness or trying to loosen me, I no longer knew. My mind was
tatters, a few threads of reason held captive by physical sensations that had
long since ceased to resemble thought. I had no freedom, none, and was
responsible for nothing, not even my own pleasure. My only responsibility was
the one Sir had laid on me, to lick Jase’s cock while Stewart played out his
sadistic scene.
I swiped my tongue obediently over the swollen caged
cock head already wet with my saliva and was rewarded when it bobbed and the man
attached to it moaned.
And then Sir shoved more fingers and lube into my
ass, pushed them deep, and I was the one who moaned as he lightly bumped my prostate.
“Oh God—”
“That’s it, sexy,” he murmured, “hand over the keys—”
The rope harness held my shoulders and chest,
supporting what my bound arms and hands could not, and I pushed my buttocks
back again, then again, signaling what I wanted. God, I needed to be fucked… so
why wasn’t he doing it? I wanted it so much I stopped licking Jase, ceased
everything but feeling the sensations Sir was awakening.
Every time he turned his fingers just so, I thought I would explode. My cock
ached and at the same time threatened to erupt.
“God, Sir… God, please…”
I was dissolving under his hand. His deep voice
caressed my ear. He was saying something but I couldn’t understand any of it.
All I could do was ride his fingers and utter incoherent
pleas.
I heard sounds, felt movement. Some vague
intelligence told me Jase had gone and Stewart, too. Only Sir was left. I
practically wailed when he removed his fingers from my ass, but then he grabbed
me by the hips and pulled me back so that the weight of my upper body rested
solely in the harness and my buttocks opened wider. I was so filled with need I
didn’t even care who fucked me…
“I will never fuck you in front of others,” he said.
I heard the tearing open of a condom and the distinctive sound of one being
rolled onto a cock. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this!”
Even if I’d wanted to I couldn’t have stopped him. My begging ass
accepted Sir’s cock with so little resistance his invasion of my body was more elegant than brutal.
His ropes bit into my pecs and arms, tamed all my
strength and gave me to him. If his first thrust was hard, the second was harder,
and then he pounded my ass with all the force of a man settling the matter once
and for all. I cried out in surrender and in the same breath I begged him for
more.
God, I liked it rough—I liked that my body was
totally, completely his to fuck in any way he saw fit. I was floating, flying…
everywhere and nowhere except for Sir’s cock pushing into me and dictating the
shape of the universe. And then he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled
my body hard to his. My cock jerked and spilled. No spurting, because the
restraint and Sir’s hand saw to that, but I leaked thick drops of semen in
abject submission.
“Is this for me, baby? Is it?” My come filled his
hand. “You’re mine, mine to take.”
With a strangled roar he finished, his pelvis
slamming my ass with each stroke.
As I hung limp in the ropes, Sir leaned forward,
grabbed me by the hair at the back of my head and turned my face so his mouth
could seize mine. I opened to his kiss, letting him in. Yes, God… yes… his cock
was still hard inside me, staking his claim, and I was so completely his I was
willing to die on the spot if that would please him. When he thrust his tongue
deep, I sucked it fervently, savoring his taste and granting permissions he
hadn’t even asked for yet. The man fucking owned me. We separated only for air.
And with that kiss he was done, and I was done, and
I don’t remember what happened next. Somehow he got me out of the rope harness
and off the platform. I vaguely recall him fumbling with the come soaked ropes
around my genitals, of my weight sagging into strong arms. When I opened my eyes again I was tucked against Sir’s
side in one of the oversize leather chairs. Explosions from somewhere outside the
room boomed dimly through the walls.
“Happy New Year,” Sir said. He tightened his arm
around my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my head.
I smiled and turned so my face burrowed into his unbuttoned
shirt. Sir smelled good, even after a scene. My head felt light, filled with disconnected
thoughts. His arms around me created a haven. “Happy New Year, Sir,” I mumbled back.
“You all right?”
“Better… complete.”
“So am I.” He nuzzled my hair. “Thank you. That was
the most amazing gift. You... are the most amazing gift.”
“I think you did all the work.”
“Hardly.” Sir traced something, perhaps a residual
pattern from the ropes, on my right shoulder. His finger drifted down my chest
to touch one of the nipple bars with his initials, sending a shiver through me. “You want to keep these for now?”
I nodded sleepily.
He smiled and brushed a bit of stray hair away from
my eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he reached
across my chest and tugged a nearby throw across my naked body as voices
approached and a door somewhere opened.
I closed my eyes and snuggled closer. The downside of an intense scene is that it’s like coming down from a killer high. There was
no way I’d be stringing two coherent thoughts together for a few hours and I
was surprised Sir could do it. Cradled by Sir’s arm, I faded pleasantly in and
out, barely noticing when people entered and spoke quietly to Sir, telling him how hot
the scene had been and how much they enjoyed it. After speaking they retreated to other chairs or maybe they left the room, because they didn’t say anythingto him beyond that. None of it mattered, though I did
open my eyes at the sound of Stewart’s voice and looked up to see him looking
quite pleased with himself. I didn’t see Jase, but I knew Stewart was taking
care of him.
“Is there a chance we can stay for the night?”
Stewart asked.
“Carson’s going nowhere.” Sir sounded definite about
that. I wasn’t sure what I would do if pressed to choose between them.
Stewart held my heavy-lidded gaze for a moment. His
face softened. “I see that,” he said. “Good thing I packed overnight bags.”
* * * *
I must have dropped out from exhaustion because I
awoke the next morning with sore nipples and an even sorer ass in one of Sir’s
guest rooms. Jase sat in his pajama bottoms on the other twin bed and regarded
me with a bemused smile on his face. As was usual after an intense scene, his remarkably flawless pale skin showed distinctive bruises.
“You look good,” he said, “no worse for wear.”
“Can’t say the same about you.” I touched my chest,
noting someone had removed the posts from my nipples. They felt naked. “How did
I get here?”
“Damned if I know. At the moment all I care about is
finding a blow dryer.” He combed fingers through his wet hair. “There’s a bathroom worthy of one of your fancy magazines through that door over there.”
His way of suggesting I use it. All I really wanted
to do was find Sir. The moment I moved aside the bed sheet and got a whiff of myself, I decided the shower was a good idea. Jase was right about the
bathroom being beautiful, all creamy tile and shore blue details. By the time I
came out from the shower, Jase was already dressed and brandishing a blow dryer
at his hair. Stewart stood beside our duffle bags and his black case of toys.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Good.” No need to mention I was a little sore. Soreness
was to be expected from the kind of scene I’d just gone through.
“The housekeeper is making breakfast for us
downstairs. That’s very accommodating. Our host had to leave early this morning
for a business meeting in New York.”
Something inside me crumbled. Sir was gone? “It’s
New Year’s Day! Who does business on New Year’s Day?”
“You really expect me to answer that? However”—Stewart
handed me a sealed envelope with my name scrawled on it in brash cursive
letters—“he left this for you.” He nodded for me to open it. Inside I found a
business card. Reed Bradley of Bradley Properties. I turned the card over.
Let’s
meet for lunch. Friday at Rybread?
I looked up at Stewart and defied him to disapprove.
“He wants to meet me. I’m going to do it.”
“Are you?”
“Don’t try to stop me. Besides, what can go wrong? It’s a
sandwich shop.”
Stewart pursed his lips. “All right.”
Had I heard him correctly? “All right,” I confirmed.
I dressed in fresh clothes and put the card in the pocket of my jeans. When I’d
done so, Stewart handed me a small velvet bag. I opened it and poured out two
nipple ornaments.
“He said they’re yours.”
They weren’t mine. They were his. R—B. I already knew
I’d wear them come Friday. After all, we’d tried bondage and hot sex and that wasn’t enough—both of us knew it. There was still a lot I needed to learn about Reed Bradley.
I fingered the card in my pocket and smiled.
Sir and I had a date.
(the End... maybe)
Copyright © 2014 Tali Spencer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you’ve enjoyed this little story. It’s been a blast to write and, well, it got me through a rough time leading up to my surgery. That’s right... I wrote all of “Uncool,” every word, knowing I was facing an operation. It was my escape, a way of not thinking about those things, but thinking about these two guys instead.
For the record, it worked. So now you know that about me—hand Tali a major medical problem, she writes a novella.
I like Carson and Reed and think I might extend their story into a book. It’s pretty hot the way it is, but these guys are telling me there’s more to their story. Like lots more. Like a whole romance. And I kind of what to find out how that might turn out.
Thanks for reading!
