Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
He’d encouraged Micah to have his own interests and independence, and it’d backfired.
Now, Galan was here, saving face, while men like Ben strutted around calling themselves Master.
“You know my rule, brother. Two-drink maximum if you’re going to play,” Ben grunted. “The action is—”
“I’m not interested.”
Galan would never play in a club.
He was into light Sir/boy relationship roles in his daily life. He only came to the club to observe and enjoy the atmosphere. He went for the ambiance and sense of community, not to score, and not to put on a show.
He’d been a VIP member for years, and The Kingdom used to be his safe place. Until he’d made the unfortunate mistake of bringing Micah there.
Galan found out the hard way that it could cost a man his treasure when he showed it off.
“You’re an uncontracted Dom, Galan. You need to find one of these tight asses shaking around here to sink your meat into and forget your troubles. Besides, I can see you’re still the most wanted Sir in town.”
He heard the jealousy in Ben’s tone, but Galan wasn’t surprised when the sweet bartender gave him a double shot of the top-shelf whiskey instead of a single.
Galan ignored him, tossed back his whiskey, and gestured for another.
“Whoa, big guy”—Ben clamped his heavy hand on Galan’s shoulder—“take it easy. It can’t be that bad.”
And how the fuck would you know?
Galan jerked away from the unwanted touch, and Ben dropped the offending arm back to his side.
The waiter set Galan’s second drink in front of him, but didn’t linger.
There were a lot of men—Sirs and boys—vying to get Galan’s attention, but he wasn’t interested. All he saw were the faces of men who would take advantage of the kind of man he was.
He needed to leave.
“You’ve always been one of our biggest donors, Galan. So I’m not going to do to you what I would’ve done to anyone else who tried that shit and toss them out the front door on their ass.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Galan replied coldly. “Not when I’m paying five thousand a month in membership fees and contributions.”
Ben’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he lurched away from his seat. He looked angry enough to put his hands on Galan, but he must’ve thought better of it.
“It’s no wonder a diamond like Micah voided his contract with you. Your boy looks happy now—on his knees for someone who knows what to do with him,” Ben added before he left.
Galan shook his head.
His ex had posted pictures all over his social media pages of his so-called upgraded life with his new Dom.
The laugh that tore from his throat was cynical and bitter.
He’d thought he was saving face by coming out tonight. That he could silence the whispers and prove he wasn’t at home pining, but his demeanor and posture said it all.
He was lonely. Angry. Reeling.
“Sir, I think it’s an absolute pity you have no willing boy on your lap.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath as he lifted his gaze to the half-naked five-foot beauty who was already working his way between Galan’s thighs without permission.
The club lights dimmed and the music shifted from soft rock to a dramatic instrumental that sounded as if it should’ve been played during the credits of a Stephen King movie.
“Oooh, we’re in luck. Master Lorenzo is about to do a knotting demonstration with his sub.” The talking sex-on-a-stick lowered his eyes and pressed his palm against the bulge tenting his silver boy-shorts. “Would you like a seat closer to the stage to watch? And maybe some company at your feet?”
Galan didn’t flinch. He didn’t care if the boy was gorgeous, forwardness had never enticed him.
He preferred reverence, devotion, not this grasping for attention.
Galan’s expression was the same it’d been for weeks—emotionless.
“No, thank you.”
“No?” the boy teased, already sinking lower, lips wet, knees bending. “Then perhaps another drink.”
“I said no, boy.”
Now that the club was dark and everyone was focused on the demonstration on stage, it was the perfect time to pay for his tab and escape through the side exit.
“But I insist, Sir. I can be amazing company. I assure you.”
The boy—who still hadn’t introduced himself properly—was almost to the floor.
“You’ll go down on your knees so easily?” The angelic voice cut through the music. Smooth yet dripping disdain. “Have you no class, Shiloh?”
The bartender smiled wistfully at whoever was standing over his shoulder.
The boy between his legs froze.
Galan turned to see who was speaking and almost swallowed his tongue.
“Casey,” Shiloh said through clenched teeth, “so nice of you to join us.”
Apparently, this man was well-known.
He was dressed in a collared black linen shirt with one button fastened in the center, giving Galan a taunting peek of a smooth, flat stomach. His chocolate-brown leather pants hugged his slim legs in all the right places, and before Galan knew it, he was gazing down at him in appreciation.