Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Max shot him an incredulous look. “You thought the death glare I was giving you meant I was interested?”
“What?” Jon frowned, but then he started laughing. “Oh, um, no, that’s not what I meant.”
Max scowled, losing his patience. “Then say what you mean. Jesus. Just spit it fucking out.”
Jon pulled out his wallet and cracked the thing open. Max glared. What the fuck was this dipshit doing?
Jon handed him a business card, a weird glint in his eyes. “Here. The number of a guy I see regularly. He’s much better with the anger management than these schmoes.”
Max took the card and eyed it, if for no other reason than curiosity. “Seriously. You’re giving me your shrink’s fucking business card?”
Jon chuckled and shook his head. “Not my shrink, dude. My Dom.”
Whoa. His what?
Max pulled to a stop. “Your Dom?”
Jon’s grin turned wry. “Yeah. And he’s awesome. Has helped me like you wouldn’t believe.”
Max frowned. “I’m not following. How the fuck is he helping you? And why the fuck are you telling me this shit?”
Jon shoved his hands back into his pockets. “’Cause like I said, you just have that type of vibe. And, I dunno, I guess I just thought he might be able to help you, too.”
Max couldn’t tell if the guy was being sincere or insulting him. He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I want help?”
Jon gave a little shrug. “Nothing. I mean, I dunno. You just kinda look like the type of guy who’d like to mix shit up. Channel his anger by receiving pain instead of giving it sometimes. But in sexy, hot ways. Like with whips and chains. Floggers and shit like that.”
Max’s brows shot up. “Whips? Are you serious? Do I look like a fucking masochist?”
Jon’s lips curved salaciously. “You’d be surprised. Although, shit, you’d probably be the sadist.”
Max stiffened. “Sadist? Dude. I’m angry, not sick.”
Jon chuckled. “Ah. You’re not familiar with BDSM.”
“Clearly,” Max bit out, growing more agitated. “So I’m not really sure where you’re going with this.”
Jon nodded, as if patience was totally his thing. “That’s cool. Not many our age really are. But when a friend of a friend recommended me to this dude? Back when my ass was this close to going to jail? I took a chance and looked into the shit. And honestly, was fucking astounded. A whole other world, man.” His smile curved wide. “A whole new way to vent your frustrations.”
Max lifted a brow. He couldn’t help it. The guy had piqued his curiosity. Venting with whips? And chains? How bizarre—and potentially amazing. Especially if he was the one doing the wielding. But what if he wasn’t? What if in order to dish it out he had to do some receiving first? Because receiving most definitely did not sound amazing.
“I dunno, Jon,” Max muttered. “Not seeing the joy in being whipped.”
“You’d be surprised. They’re professionals. Know what they’re doing. With an endgame of making you feel awesome.”
Awesome? Max eyed him dubiously.
“I’m serious,” Jon chuckled. “Mixing pleasure with pain?” His eyes hooded heavily. “It’s fucking incredible. And you release so much tension in the process.”
Damn. That sounded … well… really intense. And not necessarily in a bad way.
Besides, Max really didn’t need to get kicked out of school. His mom would have his ass.
He glanced at the card, then back at Jon. “Why are you telling me about this? You don’t even know me.”
Again, Jon shrugged, a boyish hint to his smile. “Would you believe me if I said I’m just paying it forward?”
Max barked a dark laugh before he could stop himself. “Not at all. You’ve been putting off some pretty strange vibes yourself.”
Jon’s smile turned flirty. “Ah, but those are your fault.”
Max lifted a brow.
Jon laughed. “What can I say? I’m kinda crushing, dude. You’re really fucking hot.”
Max stilled, then found himself looking the guy over. If nothing else, this dude just agreed to suck his dick. Max’s pulse gave a kick, then so did his cock, but both quickly sputtered back out. He still wasn’t ready to have anyone touch him. Maybe he’d never be again.
Chest constricting, Max shoved the card in his pocket. “Thanks for the tip, Jon. I’ll see you around.”
Jon’s disappointed voice carried after him in the dark. “Yeah. Okay. Next week. Take it easy.”
Take it easy. Yeah, right. More like, take it comatose. Either that or take someone’s head off. Jon’s card burned hot in Max’s back jeans pocket. Maybe later, after homework as he self-medicated with booze, he’d check out that Dom guy’s website. Because truth be told, that whole freaky pleasure/pain concept sounded right up Max’s dark, morbid alley.
* * * * *
“Come on, Max. You can do this. Just breathe and relax.”
Max shifted against the spanking bench, his sweaty torso sticking to its leather. Fuck, his ass cheeks stung like a mother. They’d been going at it forever. Greg the Dom didn’t mess around. Not with his hole-laden wooden paddle. Not with his butt plug in Max’s ass. And definitely not with the effective measures he took when he strapped people down. Max could personally attest to each. Straddling the device on his forearms and knees, Max’s torso was pinned to its long black cushion, while his wrists and ankles were restrained with black cuffs. He could barely move. Which Greg clearly did on purpose to make Max feel vulnerable. But it also put him seriously on edge.