Page 24 of Naughty Dreams
He had no intention of playing. That session he’d only briefly mentioned to Roy had ruined the fantasy of a kink encounter with a stranger. Just the idea of it made him anxious. But he’d watch other Doms doing wondrous things, and think of Roy doing those things to him.
“The owner said some of their other members have security details. And yet they’re able to leave them outside. That’s how safe it is here.”
“They don’t work for Roy Bloodwell. I let you out of my sight, and he chews my very attractive ass into baby food. I will stay at a distance, but you’ll be in my view at all times. That’s the best I can do.”
DJ sighed. Since traffic was still crawling, he decided to learn more about his stiff-necked bodyguard. “You work for Roy long?”
“Off and on. We’ve known each other for some time. When we got out of the service and he opened a private firm, I was one of his first contract employees.”
Sitting across from him, watching the passing surroundings, G adjusted her legs, clad in black slacks. Her scoop-necked white shirt clung to her breasts, the black jacket with nipped waist shadowing the rest of her. Her short dark hair and two diamond studs in her ear gleamed from passing streetlights. “He’s the best, DJ. Never misses anything, never loses focus.”
“Yeah. I got that.”Damn it.
She also wasn’t giving him much he couldn’t have picked up from Roy’s official resume. She wasn’t going to let him pump her for information.
“All right,” he said. “But can you try not to look like a bodyguard? I don’t want to draw attention.”
“I’ve been in places like this, DJ. People are in their own world, and they value their privacy as much as you do. Plus the Zone has the amusement park ride thing.”
“Meaning?”
Her faint smile gave her petite features a more gamine look. “You know the cardboard cutouts of a cute animal with a bubble over his head that says, ‘You must be this tall to ride this ride?’” She put her hand out at shoulder height, flat palm facing downward, elbow bent. “For a place like this, it’s ‘you must have a stack of money this high to come inside.’”
“Could you afford it?” he asked.
“Possibly but only because Roy pays me well above the industry average. Enough to keep a doe-eyed musician from bribing me to stay outside.”
DJ snorted. “What if I write a song for you? Something country, with twang and steel guitars? I’ll wear a cowboy hat and boots. Nothing else between.”
She chuckled. “No dice, pretty boy. My point is, you being a celebrity won’t mean as much in there as it would other places. Yes, the mask is still a good idea, but you should be able to relax.”
Because of DJ’s enhanced security risk, they entered through a rear door to the building. The owner was there to meet them.
Tyler Winterman exuded protective uber-Dom as palpably as Roy did, enough to get DJ tongue-tied under Tyler’s assessing amber-eyed gaze. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and he had firm lips, a total alpha chin and handshake grip. He wore his tailored slacks and dress shirt as authoritatively as a CEO who wouldn’t know how to look not-in-charge, even stripped to his skin. Which was a mouthwatering thought.
His gaze slid over the disguise DJ had donned before emerging from the limo. The Japanese kitsune mask was carved of wood, even the curling white tufts above the jaw and whiskers around the nose opening. It allowed him to draw in as deep a breath as he needed, which DJ had a feeling would become vital. Just being inside the club had his heart rate increasing.
The muffled sounds behind the closed door at the end of the carpeted hall suggested the sensory input that awaited him. Erotic photographs framed and mounted along the walls, illuminated by crystal teardrop chandeliers, made it a certainty. The walls were painted deep red, the chair railing in silver, like the photo frames.
“My wife is a fan, Mr. Smith,” Tyler said, using the alias they’d agreed upon, no matter that they stood alone in the hallway. “Your music speaks to her.”
The gravity of the statement told DJ that Tyler’s wife had been through bad shit. Pain and loss.
In this environment, Tyler’s Dom-ness was strong enough that DJ had a strange urge to acknowledge it. He did so in the best way he knew how, even if it didn’t have the ‘capital letter’ feel it had when he said it to Roy.
“Thank you, sir. Please tell her we hope it helps. Creating it sure helped us.”
Tyler’s expression showed his approval of the response. He proceeded to make sure DJ had reviewed the rules that had been sent to him. He had.
“I promise I’ll respect all of them, Mr. Winterman,” DJ said as they finished. “I’m here mainly to watch and learn.”
The way Tyler held his gaze made DJ feel he wore no mask at all. “My wife told me you would be a well-behaved guest.”
The wording suggested something that surprised DJ enough that he dared to ask. “Your wife is also a Dominant?”
“She is. She’s a switch only in our relationship, because that’s what she wants and needs. Want and need are never simple things, what drives them.”
“No, they’re not.”
