Page 26 of Dash

Dash did his best to keep his smile as he released Gingersnap’s hand and rested his own on the table, looking her over appreciatively. “I have a bike,” he offered.

She nodded. “That’s nice. Schwinn or Huffy?”

He grinned. “Harley.”

“Ohhhh.” She nodded exaggeratedly. “One of those fancy motor bikes.” She bit her lips in what seemed to be an attempt to hold back a laugh before she couldn’t do it anymore, then burst out into chuckles.

Cocking his head to the side, he studied her and enjoyed the sound.

“Look at you two flirting.” Jim’s Pet pointed out.

The laughter ended abruptly as the younger woman turned her head away in what seemed to be embarrassment. Dash jerked his focus back to the over-sharing submissive, scolding her with a look. She shrunk back. He could excuse her over-eagerness to socialize. He suspected she was isolated and desperate for human interaction, but he couldn’t excuse her interfering with his attempt to get to know the redhead.

Clearing her throat, Gingersnap earned his attention again.

“Do you ride?” he asked, attempting to get back to the subject again.

She shook her head. “Those things are dangerous.”

He grinned. “Only for those who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Or when you’re on the road with those who don’t see you,” she said, waving a finger at him.

He shrugged, it was true. There were plenty of times he’d been nearly squished into a guard rail because a car tried to merge into him. “Again, you have to know what you’re doing.” He leaned toward her. “I know what I’m doing,” he whispered.

She leaned toward him. “They always say that,” she whispered back. Their gazes met in what felt like a challenge. When her brow arched, he couldn’t help but smirk. He liked the energy between them and wanted to know more.

“All right, folks, I want to thank you for coming,” the leader of the munch said as he made his way to the front of the room. The night’s topic was leather, how to care for it, how to treat it, and how to make it last. Dash sighed and leaned back in his chair. That was one thing he definitely knew how to do. Though, he’d be respectful and listen. There was always the possibility he might learn something.

Liz

He had to be new in town, or new to the scene. Liz was betting on new in town. The way he looked at Master Jim’s Pet, it had to be new in town. A guy didn’t look at a sub and shut her up the way he had, and be new in the scene. Nope. Not a chance.

Besides, bald, thick, and a beard, that was straight up Liz’s type. She’d have noticed him before tonight if he were a regular in the Akron scene. She’d been active going on five years now. Well, before her hiatus. Yes, hiatus—not exile, regardless of what Anemone said. Either way, she’d have noticed him—PRK.

He rode a motorcycle. That put him in bad boy territory. What was it about bad boys? She sniffed them out like a damn bloodhound.

Richard had been a bad boy, but differently. He didn’t ride a motorcycle, or drive a pickup truck, but he’d been bad for her. She should have known, with a name like Lord Jute. He’d lured her in with promises of rope and good ties. She should’ve been wary with Lord in his name. Anyone who feels the need to put an honorific in their scene name was compensating for something.

PRK. Purple Road King. Ah, King. King was in his scene name. Red Flag. Perhaps she should discount him for that. Then again, he didn’t introduce himself as king. He didn’t demand she call him king. No. He told her to call him PRK. Did she consider that a red flag or not? Her red flag system was on the fritz. It didn’t help that he was hot.

Once the presentation was over, and she’d learned more than she ever wanted to know about leather—which she’d forget by the time she left the VFW—she listened to the organizer list the calendar of events coming up. There was a public play party next week. They had a place, space, and for a fee they’d be able to attend. This was why Liz had attended the munch.

Since her breakup with Lord Jute ten months ago, she’d wanted to get back out there and meet someone. She wanted to play, to feel the rope on her skin, the flogger tickle her ass, and the restraints on her wrists. The online world seemed to be full of weirdos and dick pictures. So, here she was, trying to get out there. Her stomach fluttered as she sat at the table, surveying the room. She hadn’t done this in almost three years—been a single woman trolling for single men at a munch.

Feeling like a fish flopping around out of water, she didn’t know what to do. Essentially gasping for air, she didn’t know how to mingle or approach someone. Online it was easy, she just had to exist. Her inbox had a message or two because she was female. She didn’t even have to be good looking. It didn’t mean her prospects were quality.

Real-world stuff was intimidating. How the hell did Anemone do this?

“You okay?” the concerned masculine voice whispered, drawing her focus back to the bald man in the purple shirt.

With heated cheeks, she smiled in embarrassment. “Yeah.” She nodded. “I haven’t been to one of these in a while,” she admitted.

His brows lifted, and he too looked around. “Just a bunch of socially awkward kinky weirdos trying to figure out how to approach each other and ask if it’s okay to be kinky with one another.”

Covering her mouth, she laughed at just how accurate his assessment had been.

“Master is coming home on Tuesday,” Master Jim’s Pet piped up, drawing both their focus. “So, we’ll be at the play party.” She beamed. “Will you two be there?”

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