Page 23 of In Plain Sight

“You’re not wrong,” I mused. “Although my life feels more like a hamster wheel at this point. Just running in place and thinking I’m going somewhere and not actually moving.”

He chuckled. “I like that. I’ve definitely been on the hamster wheel for a while now.”

“Hopefully we can both get off the wheel and back into the circle. Maybe mix things up a bit.”

He laughed. “Here’s hoping.” He gave me a smile that was full of heat and innuendo. “Do you want a drink? Maybe get away from all that.” He ticked his chin at our table. “On the house.”

“Thanks, but I have to head out,” I said.

“Are you sure?” He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “I’m off in less than an hour.”

I paused.

Normally I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of picking up when I was out with my friends, but I was in a mood and feeling reckless.

It had been over a week since I talked to Nice on Kinksters, and I hadn’t been able to think of anything, or anyone, else since.

Well, that wasn’t true. Most of my thoughts were consumed by Nice and his magic voice, but the ones that weren’t were preoccupied with Zander.

I’d been such a mess at work that I was pretty sure he thought I was a complete moron. I dropped things I should have had a handle on, I tripped over things I should have seen, and I was late for three out of six shifts.

Zander had been forced to cover for me more than once because I kept fucking up, and he’d done it without complaint. I tried to come up with some plausible reasons I was such a mess, but he just assured me that it was fine and he understood that shit happens and we all get behind the ball from time to time.

Thankfully Dev and Nate weren’t angry at me for my tardiness. Nate called me into the back office to ask if I was okay after my third late day in a row, but he only said he was concerned about me and wanted to know if there was anything he could help with or if I needed some time off. He cared about me as a person, even though I’d only been working at the shop for a little over a month. I wasn’t used to that.

The higher-ups at my old shop hadn’t given a flying fuck about us or our problems. It didn’t matter what we had going on in our personal lives. They only cared that we showed up on time, worked our asses off, and did it all with a smile.

Too bad I couldn’t tell Nate that the reason I was such a mess was because I couldn’t stop thinking about jerking off with a stranger on the internet.

The sexting session with Nice had been over a week ago, but my messed-up brain remembered every detail like I was relivingit in a movie. The sexy burr of his voice, how hot he’d sounded when he came, the effortless way he guided me through my first JOI, and how he seemed to instinctively know how far to push without going too far all played on a loop in my head.

Then there was how he made sure I was comfortable both before and during and how he talked to me after and helped me come down from the high of my orgasm. He’d taken care of me, even if it was just over the phone.

I’d never had that during sex, but that was mostly due to the partners I’d had. Most of my female hookups and the few relationships I’d tried to have had been with women who preferred that I take charge.

They wanted me to make the moves, to be the aggressor, and to make them feel good. That was fine, and it was the natural role I fell into with women, but a part of me had always craved something different.

I wanted to be the one who was taken care of. To be the focus of the encounter, not the one leading it. Maybe it made me selfish or lazy, but the thought of laying back and letting someone else take charge and be responsible for my pleasure got me hot.

The men that I’d been with fell into two categories: casual hookups and faceless randoms. A few had wanted to top me, but most had been eager bottoms looking for a dick.

None of those partners were the type I could tell my desires to, so I’d buried them and pretended they didn’t exist.

I couldn’t do that anymore, not now that I knew just how amazing it was to let go and give someone else control.

But picking up a random bartender wouldn’t help me experience that again. It would be another faceless fuck that would feel good in the moment but leave me empty and alone, just like every other hookup I’d had in the past year or so.

“I’m sure,” I said, giving him what I hoped was an apologetic smile. “But thanks.”

“Can’t blame a guy for shooting his shot.” He smiled ruefully. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

With a sigh, I headed back to my friends.

“We were about to send out the search party,” Scott said as I approached our table.

“What did the bartender want?” Elle asked, looking between me and the bar.

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