Page 42 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Trish snorts. “Now, this is fun.”
“I don’t—” I blink, trying to reboot my entire existence. “I’ve never said that.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t think you the type.” Trish swirls her drink. “You seem more like the guy who ties up other people.”
“Oh. Lord,” I mutter into my glass.
Peggy-Ann pouts. “Come on. You’re telling me that you weren’t at Bronx’s last bash? Upstairs? Something about a belt and a chair?”
“Not me,” I say flatly, staring straight ahead.
This isn’t the first time a woman has cornered me in this exact spot at this same bar.
Hell, women are always making assertive moves like this, spouting off kinky things I’ve never done—never thought of. And Jade is to blame.
“A chair?” Trish echoes. “Kinky and resourceful. I’m intrigued.”
“I didn’t use a damn chair,” I grit.
Peggy-Ann shrugs, sipping her drink like she’s just reporting the local news. Local gossip, more like. My frustration can’t be measured.
“That’s not what I hear. Heard she came downstairs walking funny and grinnin’ like she won the lottery.”
My head snaps toward her. “I didn’t use a fucking chair.”
“You sure? She said flannel, calloused hands, excellent stamina.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Don’t be shy,” Peggy-Ann coos. “We don’t have to tie you up. You could do the honors.”
“Take turns,” Trish adds.
“Or don’t,” Peggy-Ann says. “Tie us both up at the same time.”
Good Lord.
“You ever had two women at once?” Trish leans in, real close. “It could be your belt, our rules.”
“No,” I say, firmly, standing up and almost falling back over the stool. “Absolutely not.”
My hand scrapes something under the stool, and it comes loose in my palm and starts buzzing. I open my fingers, and the women follow my gaze to a pocket-sized dildo.
What the fuck?
Trish’s eyes light up when they land on me. “Kinky.”
Fuck.
“This isn’t mine. I’m not into—” I can’t even finish the sentence.
What the hell is this? And what the hell is it doing hiding in Bucky’s bar? Good Lord, is it used? And if so, by whom?
I inwardly gag.
Peggy-Ann puts a hand on my arm, just two fingers. “You sure? It could be good for you. Blow off some steam.”
Does she forget she’s married?
