Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Our servers, Aurora and Joey, came out to grab the last two dishes on the counter for the moment, so I estimated I had around fifteen minutes before a new round of tickets poured in.
I stuck a couple zucchini fries into my mouth and walked over to Griffin’s corner with my form.
He eyed me in that unreadable way, but it was better than blatant hostility. Much better.
“In the spirit of disrespecting your request for distance, may I ask you a couple questions?” I asked. I splayed the form next to his plate, and he knitted his brows and glanced at it. Meanwhile, I lowered my voice so the other three guys wouldn’t hear anything. “While I’m very much curious about interrogation play, I’m wondering if the Pursuit is a good place to try it out.”
I wanted him to see what I’d filled out already. You never knew if that might set something in motion. I mean, I’d been thorough. From safeword preferences and level of play to aftercare and…all of it. Y for yes on being open for sexual play, Y for yes on having sent my last STI screening already, Y for yes on being on PrEP, Y for yes on severe impact, et cetera.
Abel had divulged more the other day. Griffin was apparently one hell of a Sadist—in that primal way. CNC, takedowns, no holding back. He had less interest in just beating someone who was tied up; he wanted the brutality that came with primal play. Just like I did.
“Do you regress as a Little?” He didn’t lift his gaze from the form. He was scanning the different boxes I’d ticked.
“Sort of,” I said. “It won’t happen during a takedown, though. Two different mind-sets. But with an interrogation involved, I’m not sure what might happen.”
He clenched his jaw and took another bite of his sandwich.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and watched him.
“If you don’t know, I’d wait,” he muttered.
“Great! Thanks.” I grabbed a pen from my apron and scrapped the interrogation fantasy for now. Hopefully another time.
He cleared his throat. “When you checked R for rough, are you sure you knew what you signed up for?”
“I have high hopes.” I nodded. “Master Ryan says I’m ready for their brand of rough play.”
He hummed. “What about partners? Are you teaming up with anyone for this event?”
I shook my head. “No, Sir. I think there are three of us bottoms who are single, and I guess we’ll just have to see who catches us. Master Waylon and I have played a little bit before, but we don’t have the right chemistry.”
He finally flicked a glance my way. “Because he’s a high-protocol Master.”
Partly because of that. “Yeah, but…sometimes you can’t put a finger on it. The connection is either there or it isn’t.”
He nodded with a dip of his chin and crammed the last of his sandwich into his mouth.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you joining?” I wasn’t ready for the moment to be over. Talking in a civilized manner was progress for us!
“I haven’t decided yet.” He rose from the stool and reached for a paper towel next to the walk-in freezer. “I had every intention of joining, but then I learned I’m sharing my kink community with a coworker.”
A thrill buzzed through me, and I couldn’t help myself. “And now you’re scared you’ll stumble upon him out in the woods and discover he’s stronger than you?”
Banter with me, please.
He let out a laugh, a good and proper “Ha!” and wiped his mouth. “Yeah. That’s why, Tracy. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to overthrow you.”
I beamed at him, downright giddy we could talk like this. “Understandable. Your arms are kind of puny.”
Boy, was I full of shit.
He shook his head in amusement and threw away the paper towel. “Get back to work.”
But, ugh! I wanted to joke around and see if maybe I could move into flirting territory.
“Okay, but I hope you’ll consider joining,” I replied honestly.
His mirth faded a little, giving way to something else. Pensiveness clouded by…I wasn’t sure. Trepidation, maybe? Caution? Skepticism?
“I’ll think about it,” he said eventually, and then he left the kitchen.
I blew out a breath as something settled in my stomach. Nerves, hopes, anticipation, a million what-ifs.
I yawned and put on my windbreaker, itching to get home to shower and crash on the couch. To a movie. I was in a Pixar mood. Maybe cocoa too.
“Tracy? Before you leave…” Adam came over to me and handed me a piece of paper. “This is for our Christmas event this year. I wanna get started early on the planning so we don’t have to stress ourselves out.”
“Yes, Chef.” Good call. Last Christmas had been a hit, but we’d miscalculated the interest. In the end, we’d had to add services and days to the calendar, and we’d been so exhausted by the end of it.