Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Colt cleared his throat and dropped the humor. “We have to be cocky. Too many things can go wrong in a split second—literally—and our toys are worth hundreds of millions of dollars. If we don’t have balls, we go down.”
I knew next to nothing about his profession, not to mention the armed forces. I came from a family of paper pushers. That movie, Top Gun, came to mind. I remembered the pilots in the movie being awfully full of themselves.
I smirked. “Have you ever sung ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling’ to a woman in a bar?”
Colt widened his eyes at me. If I didn’t know any better, he looked offended. “That’s the fuckin’ Navy, son. Do I look like a goddamn squid?”
I pinched my lips together, but I couldn’t stop my shoulders from shaking with laughter. “Touchy. I didn’t mean to ruffle your delicate feathers.”
“Oh…so that’s how it is.” He nodded slowly and wiped a finger along the condensation on his glass. “Anyway. You know I’m a fighter pilot. That’s enough to know I’m in the top percentage in the world. In short, I’m great. Your turn—”
“Good lord, some humility wouldn’t kill you,” I blurted out.
He grinned. “Too easy.”
I huffed and took a sip of my beer.
I eyed the ceiling fan, idly wishing there wasn’t one right above me. My clothes would be wet for quite a while longer, and the cool air in here made me shiver.
“What about you?” he asked. “What job’s got you runnin’ around in a suit? Married? Bunch’a little ones bitin’ at your ankles? No, wait. You’re not there yet.”
I had no desire whatsoever to discuss my career. “Single, no kids. Children aren’t the type of little ones I’m interested in.” I hoped that was vague enough. For all I cared, he could believe I wanted a pack of dogs. “I’ve worked for my father, but that’s about to end. I foresee an impressive stack of job applications going out soon.”
He leaned back in his seat and tilted his head, a pensive look on his face. “You’re from around this area, yeah?”
I inclined my head. “Bethesda. You?”
He tipped an imaginary hat. “The great state of Texas, sir.” Ah. Cowboy hat, then. “Born and raised in San Antonio.”
“Military City,” I replied with a chuckle.
“That’s right.” He smiled, perhaps surprised I knew the nickname. “I went to high school in Austin, though. My folks took pity on me.” At my quizzical look, he let out a soft, uncomfortable laugh and leaned forward again. I’d only known the man twenty minutes, and I could already be certain of the fact that he didn’t “do” nervous and uncomfortable. “My whole family’s involved in the Air Force. Pop’s an old pilot himself and stayed in the service to be a flight instructor. My mother’s still a teacher. When we were overseas, she taught English at the base. And my baby sister is one hell of genius—mechanical engineer.” There was an abundance of pride, I noted. “She’s stationed in Florida at the moment.” He paused and took a big swig of his beer. Then he cleared his throat. “The Air Force is my life, but…it ain’t the easiest environment to grow up in if you’re gay.”
Oh. Oh, wow. Okay, I could admit I had not seen that one coming.
“My mother, bless her,” he went on, “took a civilian job and rented an apartment in Austin for the two of us those four years I was in high school in a more accepting town.”
I stashed away any remnants of my surprise, and I smiled at what he told me. “Your family seems very lovely. Not many would do that.”
He held up his beer glass. “I’m fortunate.”
So was I.
This was interesting. Questions began piling up, and the first one was obvious. “What made you tell me this? From what I’ve heard—and what I know from growing up—it’s rarely a conversation starter with a stranger.”
He seemed to relax a little. Tension faded from his shoulders. “City folk are easier. You’re not from around here, pretty boy.” He smirked at my eye roll. “And…I reckon I know what little ones you’re interested in.” His drawl turned interested into “innerested,” and it drew me in like a moth to a flame—until I replayed his words in my head and sat up straight.
“Pardon?”
He chuckled under his breath. “You’re involved in kink, aren’t you? BDSM communities are a lot more accepting of other sexual preferences too.”
“How did you…?” I was at a loss. And utterly fascinated. Colt was sharp.
“Takes a Daddy Dom to know one?” he guessed, bobbing his head to the beat of the song playing. “I love this song. It’s a dancin’ tune.”
I merely stared at him as I processed. This cocky fighter pilot across from me was not only gay, but he was a Daddy Dom like me? I never would’ve guessed it so quickly, not like he had.