Page 37 of Whips and Chains
I ripped open a box that turned out to be full of smaller boxes of condoms, and started stacking them on the shelf.
Whip did the same a few feet away, his box full of floggers. I’d already seen the room those went in. I guessed the club let patrons take home the toys they used. Which I could appreciate because some things shouldn’t be shared, no matter how often they were cleaned.
I picked up a box of strawberry-flavored condoms and shook them in Whip’s direction. “You reckon these actually taste like strawberry?”
Whip raised an eyebrow.
Instantly, I realized I’d brought up him giving head without even thinking about it. Heat flamed up the back of my neck, and I turned away quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Whip snorted on a laugh. “Didn’t mean to ask if I suck dick?”
Ah, fucking hell. I’d just made this so awkward. I didn’t know what I’d meant. Or why I’d said it. And I’d thought it was X with no brain-to-mouth filter. But apparently I was just as bad.
At least when it came to Whip.
I had no idea why he had me so fucking rattled. One minute I hated his guts. Then next we were watching each other fuck. And now I was asking him about what condoms tasted like when they were wrapped around another man’s cock?
When I ripped open the next box and found it was filled with bottles of bourbon, I didn’t think twice about opening one up and taking a long swallow of the dark-brown liquid inside.
I could feel Whip’s gaze on me, and I held the bottle out in his direction without looking at him.
He took it, his fingers brushing mine, electricity zapping between what I was sure as fuck putting down to the static in the room. Even though it felt identical to the pulse of something unnameable that happened when I touched Violet too.
“Should probably move this box back up to the bar. Guessing it’s not meant to be back here,” I mumbled uselessly, because I made zero move to actually pick it up and take it where it belonged.
Whip eyed me as he took a swig from the bottle. “They don’t taste like strawberry.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his.
His eyes held a challenge. “And yeah, I know that because I’ve sucked off guys wearing them.”
Images of Whip down on his knees, his fingers wrapped around a cock, taking it into his mouth while someone held theback of his head, encouraging him to take it deep, had my dick stirring behind my pants.
Because it wasn’t just some random guy he was sucking off in my head.
It was me.
I needed another fucking drink.
And he knew it. He had a smug fucking grin on his stupidly attractive face, the bottle of bourbon dangling from a loose, two-finger grip.
I took the bottle, needing the deep swallow of alcohol. I wasn’t fucking doing this with him. This stupid flirting thing. We weren’t friends. We’d gone through a thing together in finding Violet and then giving her what she needed afterward.
But we weren’t bonding. I didn’t need any more friends.
I just needed Violet to forgive me, and that had to be my sole focus.
I went back to shoving boxes of condoms onto the shelf, but it had been years since I’d drunk hard alcohol. And the half a dozen pulls I’d taken on the bottle were already warming through my body and loosening my lips. “You been here before?”
Whip glanced over at me. “In the closet with a straight man?” He snorted on a laugh. “Yeah, been here, done that.”
I scowled at him. “I meant have you been to this club before?” But before he could answer, I shrugged. “Stupid question. You probably come here all the time, considering the line of work you’re in.”
He glanced over at me. “What is it, exactly, you think I do?”
I shrugged. “Fuck strangers for money.”
It came out harsher and more judgmental than I’d really meant it to.
