Page 16 of Naughty Dreams
A cock teasing, throaty chuckle came over the line. “I bet. All right. I need to get back to the sub tied to my bed.”
“He’s been waiting on you?”
“Yep. Blindfolded and with noise canceling headphones. I’ve planted my naked ass on his chest, and after I hang up, I’m going to sit on his face and make him earn the right to his eyes and ears. You’ve done me a favor, increasing his anticipation and frustration.”
Roy imagined putting DJ in a similar situation and shifted in the chair. Damn the woman. “Have fun with that. I’ll tell Warren I’ve solved the mystery. You draw energy from sex instead of sleep.”
“Being a succubus was my childhood dream, so I’m living the dream. Holler if you need anything else.”
Roy disconnected. Staring at the image on the screen, he gave himself permission to mentally travel the road DJ was advocating, with G’s input added to the mix.
He did know how to compartmentalize. He treated his emotions like clients, putting them where they were safe and protected, out of his way while he handled the threat.
DJ knew how to use his body, his expression, the tone of his voice, all the gifts God had given him. He was off the charts smart, shifting between respect and wiseass with maximum impact on Roy’s Dom side.
Roy considered how he could put him off balance, and what he’d become when he unraveled under Roy’s command. He liked the thought, intensely, but G’s point was valid. Roy would blow off some steam at The Zone, an excellent kink club with locationsin both Miami and Tampa. That way, if he did take DJ up on his offer, he’d go at him for the right reasons, and with a level head.
If the intrepid bastard inspired him to take a step in that direction before then, he could still make that work. As G suggested, he’d make it a mentor thing, not a romantic relationship with messy dips into emotional waters that didn’t make sense for a temporary job anyway.
The key was being very clear on what they were and weren’t, and what lines they wouldn’t cross because of his primary task. Protecting DJ and keeping him alive.
Roy returned to his work. The psychological profile of the stalker he’d requested made him frown. This kind of stalker was delusional, but he compartmentalized as well as Roy. So far, he’d been excessively careful. They had only speculation on how he’d play his end game. While they assumed it would be a kidnapping attempt, he could take any number of destructive steps in the interim to keep them guessing, like the drug-laced chocolates.
But knowing exactly when something might happen was a unicorn in Roy’s business. They’d keep the boundaries around DJ tight, every team member alert for the unknown but inevitable.
He sent additional recommendations to Warren and G. G must have finished with her sub, because she wasn’t far behind Warren in sending suggestions that tweaked their plan. Since he and his team were relieving Warren at noon, it was time to hit the bed. He’d get enough sleep to recharge, then do his workout.
As Roy lay down and propped an arm behind his head, he thought about DJ, about seeing him later. His cock wanted him to do some one-handed thinking, but denial was an essential component to self-control. With DJ, Roy needed to hone that skill razor sharp.
Considering the ways he could apply that same edge to the young rockstar sent him to sleep with a smile.
That smile was nowhere evident when Roy got out of his SUV at the studio. As he’d pulled into the parking lot, he’d received a text from Warren.
Boss, might want to step it up. Got some rockstar bullshit going down.
Roy strode past the lobby receptionist with a bare nod. Fortunately, she recognized him, and the look on his face had her buzzing him past the locked access door to the studio spaces without him having to break his pace.
“You dumb, stupid, son of a bitch…” Steve’s yelling could be heard all the way down the hall. Roy reached the doorway to the live room just as DJ rushed past him. Tal was bent over his drum kit, laughing maniacally.
Warren saw Roy and gestured, indicating he would manage Tal and the others. Pivoting, Roy gave chase. He didn’t have to go far, as DJ shoved through the closest bathroom door. Roy followed him as DJ stumbled into a stall, dropped to his knees and shoved his fingers down his throat.
What the hell?
The kid choked and hacked several times before he began to expel the contents of his stomach, in that rough, raw way that happens when the body had no plan to throw up. But DJ kept pushing his fingers in, kept on vomiting, until nothing else came up and he was dry heaving.
Which meant he couldn’t stop, his body convulsing. Roy planted his feet on either side of the narrow hips before he leaned down and stroked his back.
“Slow it down, Dory. Easy breaths. Slow it down.”
DJ reached up and gripped his hand, an acknowledgement, then grabbed the bowl again. When he was done, Roy backed off. DJ flushed the toilet and turned his shoulders to the stall wall, pulling his knees up. Roy brought him a wet paper towel to wipe his mouth, and DJ took it with a nod of thanks.
Since he didn’t look ready to say anything, Roy didn’t offer conversation. Not until DJ pushed himself to his feet and moved toward the sink. He was wobbly, so Roy stayed close. DJ washed his hands and rinsed his mouth several times.
“Shit,” he muttered at last, his eyes closed.
“What did he do?” Roy kept his tone level, instead of sounding like he was ready to beat the answer out of Tal.
“Dumped some shit into my tea. Said it would help loosen me up.” DJ made a face. “I’m not going to be able to drink that blend for a while without tasting vomit. Hell, it’s one of my favorites.”
