Page 6 of Reunion
“I own that one. It’s fantastic. Strong recommend.” Dane reached out and gave a quick, sharp squeeze to the sleeve that had me biting back a gasp.
“I’m starting to get the idea you own half the things in this shop.” I tried hard for nonchalance but couldn’t shake the feeling of his grip, how it’d pressed those little knobs of silicone against my skin. I couldn’t help but imagine if it’d been my cock inside. Crap, I was getting hard. Again.
“You can’t tell me you don’t own one toy. A little sleeve like this? Prostate vibrator? C’mon, a guy who once fucked a watermelon?” He flashed me a devilish smile.
“Jesus Christ, would you be quiet?” I hissed, my cheeks flaming with a rush of humiliation.Why?Whydid he remember that? “I was like…fifteen. And insanely horny. And desperate. And there was that video with…”
Dane chuckled low. God, his amusement was both sexy and annoying. “Relax. I told you I did the same.”
I remembered that, as well, and the heat in my cheeks diverted south as I recalled him describing it. Whereas I’d suffered extreme postorgasm shame—because…a watermelon, really?—Dane had recounted the cool, gritty squish of the interior with something like fascination.
“Kinda where my interest in off-the-beaten-track stuff began, I suppose,” he mused thoughtfully, and again, I had to admire his guilelessness. There wasn’t some deep psychological meaning behind my rather pedestrian sexual encounters, it was just that I’d never embraced the things that truly excited me the way it sounded like Dane had. The few times I’d tried, it hadn’t gone well.
We left the dildos and plugs behind and meandered toward a wall where I recognized floggers, riding crops, and harnesses. Again, mostly from porn. I brushed my fingertips over the fringed ends of a cat o’ nine tails wistfully.
“Do you play?” Dane gestured toward the implements with a curious sidelong glance at me.
The question caught me off guard, but I knew enough to grasp his meaning. “Nah. I only know a tiny bit about it really.” I pointed out a long, thin stick. “Cane, right?”
He nodded, running his fingers along the smooth wood. A tiny shudder raced up my spine when he rubbed his thumb over the end, as if it were me he was touching.
Beneath that cane was a thinner piece of what looked like plastic and reminded me of the switches my grandma had threatened us with as kids. “This, too? Doesn’t really look as formidable as the wooden thing.”
“Rattan. And this one is nylon.” Dane unhooked it from the wall and twirled it in his hand like a kinky baton. Then he pointed it at me. “Bend over.”
Jesus, did I respond to that. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to, but my body appeared to be operating independently of rational thought processes. The back of my neck heated as a dizzying bolt of arousal rushed through me. Jokingly, I braced my hands against the wall in front of me and pushed my ass out dramatically, glancing over my shoulder in challenge as I grinned back at him.
My grin swiftly morphed to a yelp of surprise as a sting seared across the back of my thighs. Even muffled by my pants, the skin beneath went hot with the impact. “The hell?” I gasped.
Dane shrugged with a shameless smirk. “Small but mighty. You asked for it.”
“Give me that.” I snatched the cane from his hands and gestured with it that he should turn around and let me return the favor.
He did so with a humored glimmer in his eyes before he laced his hands behind his head, a movement that pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, accented his trim waist, and made me swallow hard. Had he always had such a phenomenal ass?
“I hope you appreciate the fact that I’m doing this. It’s rare, believe me.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but I took advantage of his position to stare at that tight round ass before I let fly with the cane. However, it seemed to thump dully against him and didn’t even make the ominous whooshing sound through the air I’d heard when he smacked me with it.
Dane didn’t flinch.
I scowled at the cane and then at Dane’s smug expression as he turned back around. “Is there a secret to it? That barely even registered, right?”
Dane took the instrument from my hand. “It’s in the wrist. And also in the practice and the intent.” He glanced at my face, I guess to see if I was interested. I was definitely listening. “Different materials cause different sensations. Stings, thuds. Sometimes it’s about the sound, too. The anticipation you feel when you hear it cutting through the air and know what’s coming. Watching anticipation melt into submission is a thrill of its own. But it’s a vicious instrument any way you slice it.”
“Have you been caned before?” Something about his expression suggested he had some serious experience, possibly on both ends.
“I have. But I usually prefer to be the one wielding it.”
Oh god, the way he met my eyes then, a sinful twinkle dancing in his that I couldn’t look away from. Terms and phrases ran through my head. BDSM, impact play, Dom… “Are you a…sadist?” Maybe that was a bold thing to ask. I had no idea what proper protocol in that world was.
“Just a man, these days. I was heavily into the lifestyle for a while. Not so much now. I dabble when it suits me.”
I had about a million questions teeming in the back of my mind, many of which I wasn’t sure were polite to ask a man I’d not seen in almost a decade, in spite of how open he’d been so far. “When did you get into it?”
“College.” With one last nimble twirl, Dane replaced the cane on the wall hook.
I’d been buying dildos for a prank, and he’d likely been actually using them. Probably on someone else. And dildos weren’t even that kinky. Fuck, I wondered what else Dane was into. Heat coiled in my groin, and my dick throbbed at the possibilities. I was grateful that Ace returned just then carrying a cardboard box filled with a bunch of clear plastic bags with dark tissue paper inside, each tied off with ribbon that had a gift tag attached.