Page 38 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

SILAS

L incoln traced the bruised stripes across my thighs with the tip of his finger, his touch featherlight.

“These are really hot, Si,” he said.

I huffed a laugh and pressed play on the next episode of the true crime documentary he’d decided we were going to watch over dinner.

It was Friday, our newly appointed best friend night, and we were in the apartment, on the couch, my legs sprawled across his lap, his feet propped on the coffee table, and takeout containers within reach.

“I think so too.”

“And this was a reward?”

Humming, I kicked out my left leg when his touch slid to a particularly sensitive bruise on the inside of my thigh. “We were celebrating.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes at me and finished off the pad Thai left in the bottom of his white paper carryout box.

“Are you excited to start work on Monday?” he asked.

“I’m not not excited,” I said. “But I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

Marshall’s words were as etched into me as the bruises were.

Eight strikes for the eight years of wasted potential spent working with my father.

If I thought about it in hindsight, the accusation was biting, but it was closer to the truth than a lie.

Working with my dad had been the easy road, and I’d walked down it happily with both eyes open.

Thankfully, because of Marshall’s own name and connections, I’d been able to turn down a different fork in that road, but it was a near thing.

“What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”

Lincoln rolled his eyes at me and made a point of pushing his fingers into a bruise until I cursed his name and smacked him on the side of his head.

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re better.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t know Marshall, but I doubt he’d risk his reputation on you if you weren’t,” Lincoln said.

“He’s not risking anything,” I muttered.

“Weird thing to say, but if you want to be wrong out loud, go off.”

I flung the remote at him, then tried to pull my legs away.

Lincoln managed to catch me around the knees, using his own body as leverage to stop me from extracting myself from his grip.

He ended half on top of me, my legs tangled and his face pressed against my stomach.

I pushed down against the top of his head, pretending to fight him off.

“I hate you,” I said.

He made wet kissing noises against my stomach, and I kneed him in the ribs until he rolled off of me, wheezing and clutching his side.

“It’s not that serious,” I told him.

“I’m wounded.”

I stood up from the couch and stretched, fingers threaded together above my head.

Leaning back, I arched until my spine popped.

The release of pressure felt so good, and then I bent forward, letting my arms hang low.

My fingers grazed the floor, and Lincoln made a very playful sound in the back of his throat.

“You’re hornier than normal,” I said, straightening up and arching a brow at him. He gave me an annoyed look, rearranging himself on the couch while I collected the takeout boxes and carried them into the kitchen.

“Thank you for noticing.” Lincoln collapsed onto the couch, stretching across the seat I’d just occupied. “Do you think we can go get me laid?”

It was almost ten.

“Are you serious? Isn’t there an app for that?”

“The guys on apps are the worst,” he said, clutching his hands together in prayer. “They’re either vanilla or they want to piss on my face. There is no middle ground.”

“I’m sure there’s a middle ground.”

“Please let’s go out.”

“It’s getting late,” I said.

“You’re getting old in your domesticness or whatever the word is. Rapture is barely open.”

“You want to go to Rapture?”

“Please.” Lincoln batted his lashes at me. “Are you allowed?”

“Of course, I’m…” I stopped myself from finishing the thought because…

. was I allowed? Marshall and I had talked about my relationship with Lincoln, but we’d never talked about going to clubs or anything like that without each other.

It wasn’t like I was going to play or anything.

There was no way he’d have an issue with it.

“Check with Daddy,” Lincoln said, jumping over the back of the couch and scampering down the hallway. “I’m going to get ready.”

With a groan, I found my phone on the coffee table and sent Marshall a text.

Are you with your brothers still?

Marshall

Yeah. Everything okay with you?

Yes. Just Lincoln wants to go to Rapture.

Is anyone stopping him?

He wants me to go with him.

There was a pause, and the water turned on in the bathroom, shortly followed by the hum of Lincoln’s electric toothbrush.

Be safe.

It’s okay?

Why wouldn’t it be?

Just keep your clothes on. Send me a picture of your outfit before you leave.

Better yet, just wear what I tell you.

A familiar heat pooled low in my stomach.

Lincoln spit toothpaste into the sink and started singing an old blink-182 song.

Thank you, Sir.

Do you have black jeans?

Yes, Sir.

A white t-shirt?

Yes, Sir.

That with sneakers. No underwear.

The denim was going to be hell on my cock, on my thighs.

Understood.

Do you have a harness?

“What did Daddy say?” Lincoln shouted from his bedroom.

I cleared my throat, lips parched. “We’re talking about it.”

No, Sir.

A shame.

And no collar?

My teeth chattered together as I closed my mouth, palms sweating against the phone.

No one has ever given me one.

Did you want one? Did you like wearing mine on Wednesday?

I don’t know, Sir. And yes.

Wear what you’re told, Silas. Have a good night with your best friend. Stay with him unless he finds someone to host, then come over to my house.

Yes, Sir.

Thank you.

I love you. Be good.

I love you.

I stared at the phone to see if any other messages were going to come through, but none did.

“We’re good!” I called down to Lincoln.

He let out a whoop in reply and was waiting for me in the doorway of my bedroom when I made it down the hall.

I dug out my black jeans and a white shirt just like Marshall had instructed, then stripped naked and got dressed again.

My cock was plump from the conversation, thickening even more in response to the tightness of the denim.

Lincoln didn’t say anything about it, and neither did I, and then we were in my car and on the way to Rapture.

The club was in full swing by the time we got there, dozens of people already packed onto the dance floor.

The new downstairs room had people inside as well, and for the first time since Lincoln proposed the idea, I wondered if coming to Rapture was a good idea after all.

Marshall had been so insistent when we’d first gotten involved that what had happened to me was assault, and while I agreed with him, I also didn’t.

I hadn’t been victimized, at least not in the way others had been.

It felt wrong to call it that, and facing the door of the room where it had occurred, I struggled to make sense of it being both at the same time.

“Do you want a drink?” Lincoln asked, mouth warm against my ear.

He’d dressed to cruise in short black shorts, black leather boots, and a mesh tank top that basically exposed his entire chest, nipple and navel rings included.

“Wine,” I answered.

“I’ll come find you! Scope me out a winner!”

I nodded, stare still fixated on the private playroom.

I didn’t want to go in there, but my legs carried me there anyway.

Inside, I found far more people than my last visit, what appeared to be a group of friends.

They laughed and talked, having a good time.

A man stood in the corner of the room, dressed in all black, and completely alone.

He was either an asshole or a voyeur, I imagined.

Maybe both. At some point, one of the men in the friend group pulled another to his feet and walked him over to the spanking bench I’d found myself over the last time at Rapture.

I watched them talk. Negotiate. And then I watched them start a scene.

“They’re nice to look at, aren’t they?” An almost familiar voice startled me from behind.

I’d been expecting Lincoln with a glass of wine, but instead found a blond man closer to forty, soft-looking hair and broad shoulders.

He wore a pair of dark denim jeans and a white t-shirt, a wedding band on his left hand and a leather cuff on his right wrist.

“Uhm. Yeah,” I said.

“We’ve never met,” the man said, extending a hand toward me. “But we talked on the phone. I’m Landon Miller.”

“This is your club,” I said dumbly, shaking his hand.

“I hope you don’t mind, but security let me know when you arrived, and I just wanted to come find you. Thank you for coming back and taking another chance on us.”

“Oh, it’s really…I was happy to eat Thai on the couch all night, but my best friend wanted to come,” I blurted. “Not that I’ve been avoiding the place. It’s fine. You were great. It’s great.”

Landon gave me a shy—but somehow knowing—smile. “Message received. I only wanted to introduce myself in person and let you know if you need anything to come find me. If you can’t, let any of the bartenders know, and they will.”

“I appreciate that,” I murmured. “Did Marshall put you up to this?”

Landon squinted, cocking his head to the side. “Who?”

“Nothing. My boyfriend.”

“No one put me up to anything, Silas. I just want to make sure everyone here is comfortable and safe.” He gestured toward the asshole voyeur in the corner with a quick jerk of his chin.

The man responded with a sharp nod. “And like I said, we’re observing more closely now to make sure we’re living up to our promises as a risk-aware space. ”

So he was an employee, not a prick.

Though, he could have been both.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I just. This is all great. I’m really fine, though. I don’t want to make a big deal.”