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)
They were just approaching the city when his boy asked softly, “Sir… my friend is doing a demonstration at The Kingdom tonight. He asked me to come for support. Could we…?”
Galan’s gut tightened. The club. The same walls where he’d lost his last boy to another Sir.
The same ravenous crowd of men who would give their right nut to lure such a luminous submissive as Casey into their reach.
He wanted to bark a stern no. Every instinct told him to lock Casey away and never let him within a mile of any BDSM club.
But he could not refuse him—not tonight, not ever.
They’d been together every night since they’d met, except for the few days he’d had early morning surgeries.
Casey had shown up at his practice twice with a surprise homemade lunch.
They’d gone on several dates where they’d talked for hours, getting to know each other better.
Their lovemaking was off the charts.
Most importantly, anytime they’d been in public, Casey’s gaze never wandered. He’d only had eyes for his Sir.
Casey had more than shown how special he was to him. He’d earned his trust, and it was time Galan showed it.
He leaned back against the smooth leather, forcing a calm smile as sweat beaded at the back of his neck.
Casey was fucking gorgeous tonight.
His eyes sparkled blue and the silkiness of his ivory skin glowed from his good mood.
Fuck.
His boy drew appreciative stares anywhere he went, and Galan… Galan was proud enough to want him seen but never touched, not even approached.
Casey must have felt a ripple of his unease because he slid gracefully onto his lap and rested his hands against Galan’s chest.
“Sir,” he whispered, nuzzling under his jaw, “I’m only going to support my friend. But make no mistake, everyone will see what’s true in my heart”—Casey ran his fingertips over his collar—“that I belong to you.”
Galan swallowed, nodded, and gave the driver the new destination.
When they entered, just as he’d expected, heads turned.
All eyes cut toward Casey, draped on his arm, radiating elegance.
He walked close to him, gaze cast down, refusing eye contact with any Sir or Master who prowled the floor.
Casey only spoke when approached by other submissives, and even then, he began every word by introducing his Sir first, showing the entire club where his devotion lay.
The owner intercepted them midway through the club, smug as ever, his smile dripping with jealousy.
Galan flexed his jaw but kept his voice level.
“Quite the diamond, Galan.”
He ignored Big Ben’s comment and said, “Casey is here to see Jason’s show.”
“Then right this way.” Ben stared at Casey. “I have a VIP table in front of the main stage.”
Galan tracked the eyes that followed them like vultures.
He almost missed Casey signaling the bartender.
When they reached the table, Galan was shocked by Casey’s formality.
Casey slipped his Sir’s coat from his shoulders and reverently draped it across the back of his high-backed chair, never raising his eyes higher than Galan’s chest.
With a subtle press of his hands on top of Galan’s shoulders, he guided him into the seat. And right on cue, a waiter approached with a bourbon neat—top-shelf—and presented it to Casey.
His boy set it on the table before him, then, with a swan-like grace that stunned the room into silence, lowered himself onto a red velvet pillow at Galan’s feet.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Galan heard a Sir behind them reprimand his sub, “You see, boy? That’s how it’s done. Take notes.”
Casey knelt—poised, still, and gorgeous—his gold collar catching the low club lights, and Galan’s throat burned with emotion.
Several kneeling subs adjusted their slouched postures to mimic Casey’s position.
Galan reached down, caressing his boy’s jaw before stroking a fingertip over the collar, letting every eye see his claim.
It was a ceremonial vow and a triumph. His Casey was indeed his.
But after only a minute, Galan’s need was too much. He lifted Casey’s chin, bent low, and kissed him long and deep, relishing the salacious moan Casey blessed him with.
He tugged him onto his lap. Though he adored his boy kneeling, he loved him far too much not to keep him in his arms.
The demonstration ended an hour later. Galan was finishing his second drink, his nose buried behind Casey’s ear, when a tall, handsome man wearing a designer black suit brazenly approached their table.
Galan lifted his head, glaring at a Sir standing within eight feet of his boy.
“That’s quite a beauty you have there,” he said, his hungry gaze roaming down Casey’s back to where his ass was on his thigh. “Do you ever play with other couples? My boy is in the back preparing for his rope play demonstration. We’d love to entertain you two…perhaps tonight.”
Casey glanced up at Galan with narrowed eyes. “Permission to answer, Sir?”
Galan nodded as rage curled hot in his chest.
Casey’s gaze stayed lowered, but his voice was gritty, steady, his words a blade wrapped in velvet. “With respect, Sir, the answer to your question is no, we do not. I wear this collar as proof that I belong to one man, and one man only. No one else will ever touch me. I will not even gift another Sir the courtesy of my eyes, let alone my body.”