Override E-Book

SJD Peterson

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 330

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

An Underground Club Tale Don't judge a book by its cover…. At over six feet, with a body honed in the gym, auto worker Donavan Gregory is used to people assuming he's a dominant top. Unfortunately, they're wrong, and Donavan's desire to explore his submissive side goes unfulfilled. Smaller and older than Donavan, Dr. Seth Manning might not look like a typical Dominant, but when the two men meet at Pride, Donavan realizes Seth might be his perfect counterpart. The trouble is, Donavan doesn't have as much experience with the BDSM world as he'd like. What could an educated, handsome, and confident man like Seth possibly see in someone like him? Seth must convince him that despite the differences on the surface, when it comes to kinky fun and discovery, they'll fit together just fine.

Leseprobe

Override

By SJD Peterson

An Underground Club Tale

Don’t judge a book by its cover….

At over six feet, with a body honed in the gym, auto worker Donavan Gregory is used to people assuming he’s a dominant top. Unfortunately, they’re wrong, and Donavan’s desire to explore his submissive side goes unfulfilled.

Smaller and older than Donavan, Dr. Seth Manning might not look like a typical Dominant, but when the two men meet at Pride, Donavan realizes Seth might be his perfect counterpart. The trouble is, Donavan doesn’t have as much experience with the BDSM world as he’d like. What could an educated, handsome, and confident man like Seth possibly see in someone like him? Seth must convince him that despite the differences on the surface, when it comes to kinky fun and discovery, they’ll fit together just fine.

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Exclusive excerpt

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About the Author

By SJD Peterson

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Copyright Page

To Caffeine and Cigarettes, who keep me going through those long nights of writing.

Chapter One

AS THE sun began to set on the last night of Pride, Donavan Gregory was surprised his head hadn’t exploded from sensory overload. He’d spent the day enjoying the sights and sounds, and—oh holy fuck—what sights they had been. Half-naked men running around laughing, touching, loving in an unadulterated freedom only a celebration of this type could afford.

The afternoon was spent wandering the town, joining in on discussions, meeting new people, taking in the flash and flare of the parade. But it was the fetish booths, the leather daddies, and BDSM demonstrations that kept grabbing his attention. He’d often wondered what it would be like to give up complete control, to kneel at another man’s feet, to feel the kiss of his leather. He’d spent countless hours wanking to bondage and kinky flicks, hooked up with a couple of guys who got off on spanking his ass while they fucked him, and yet he hadn’t gathered up the courage to take it to the next level.

So it was no surprise when the last rays of the sun disappeared below the horizon that Donavan found himself once again on 5th Street. He leaned against a brick wall, trying not to draw attention to himself. It didn’t help that his loose jeans and maize-and-blue college T-shirt made him stick out like a sore thumb among the sea of flesh and leather. Still, he did his best to shrink into the background as much as his size would allow.

People looking at him would, no doubt, find it hard to believe his fantasies revolved around submitting. Standing at six foot two and topping the scales at 230 thanks to good genes and his dedication to the gym, he looked like he would be the dominant partner. That he’d be the one wielding the crop, the one to bind a body, to take charge.

In the center of the road, within a roped-off area, two St. Andrew’s crosses had been erected upon a stage. A man dressed in nothing but a pair of tight black shorts was bound to one with his chest pressed against it. A smaller blond-haired man, completely devoid of clothing, stood with his back to the other cross. Donavan’s pulse kicked up as he watched the naked man’s wrists, forearms, and biceps being wrapped with red ropes. The act was simple yet erotic. The way the Dom moved, the way the ropes slid through his fingers, and the look of concentration on his handsome face kept Donavan captivated.

“You like what you see?”

Donavan jerked his head to the right to find a lean dark-haired man staring up at him with hungry eyes.

Unable to look away from his unwavering gaze, Donavan had the uncanny feeling the stranger was not only looking at him but within him. The man stood about five foot nine and couldn’t weigh more than 170 pounds, max. An air of authority and confidence shining in those dark eyes was unmistakable.

Shaking off the strange feeling, Donavan turned back to the demonstration. “Umm, yeah, it’s interesting.”

Donavan’s breath hitched when the stranger inched closer. He smelled of clean sweat, musk, and a rich, pleasing cologne. Donavan watched out of the corner of his eye as the smaller man leaned back, propped his booted foot against the wall, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Have you ever been bound?”

Donavan shook his head.

“You’ve thought about it,” the stranger said, sounding sure.

But that was ridiculous. No way could this guy know what Donavan fantasized about. Instead of answering, he turned it back on the newcomer. “Have you ever let someone tie you up?”

“I do the tying,” he said curtly.

Donavan turned his head and studied the man for a few seconds. He had prominent cheekbones, a regal nose, and his full lips were made for long lingering kisses. While he was handsome, there was nothing physically imposing about him, nor did his attire—black slacks and a finely tailored pale blue dress shirt—scream leather daddy.

“You?” Donavan asked incredulously.

“You know what they say about size not mattering?”

“Yeah.”

The stranger tilted his head up, a sly grin curling his full upper lip. “In this case, it’s quite true.” He pushed off the wall and held out his hand. “Seth Manning.”

Donavan shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you. Donavan Gregory.” He started to pull his hand back, but Seth tightened his grip.

As he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of Donavan’s hand, Seth held his gaze. “Would you like to experience what it’s like to be bound, Donavan?” His voice was low and seductive, the tone deeper than Donavan would have expected.

“Perhaps someday.”

“There is no time like the present, I always say,” Seth countered.

“Now?” Donavan found himself asking, rather than voicing the refusal that first popped into his head.

“Why not? It’s Pride. This is your chance to let go, have some fun in a nonjudgmental atmosphere. What do you say?”

Donavan was certainly intrigued by the offer. Given the way his skin tingled and the rapid beating of his heart, his body was certainly on board. He cut a quick glance at the demonstration and the crowds of people. Doubt skittered down his spine. He’d never been an exhibitionist.

“C’mon, Donavan, take a chance,” Seth encouraged.

Donavan held Seth’s gaze. It was so, so tempting. It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship to have someone as good-looking as Seth putting his hands on him.

“Just a little rope play. I won’t even ask you to strip.” Seth winked. “This time.”

“Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Seth drawled without hesitation.

Donavan had apparently been influenced by the freedom of Pride, or maybe he’d lost his goddamn mind, but he found himself conceding. “All right, but I’m keeping my clothes on.” He pointed a warning finger at Seth. “And no trying to bang me once I’m tied up. I don’t do public porn.”

Donavan’s threat didn’t seem to faze Seth in the slightest. He blatantly ran his eyes up and down Donavan’s body. “Pity, but you have a deal. Give me a second to set it up.”

Seth pushed his way through the crowd, dipped under the roped-off area, and walked up to a large bald man standing near the stage.

Donavan blew out a long breath. Wow! What the hell have I just done? In public? With a stranger? He most certainly had lost his mind. He’d always been a private man, never comfortable in the spotlight, but obviously the craziness of the day had worn off on him. It had a damn good hold on him too because he wasn’t turning and running like hell. Instead he was standing there, nearly giddy with the buzz of arousal zinging through him, his dick rock hard.

Seth gestured him over, a wide self-assured smile on his handsome face.

Donavan hesitated a moment, then pushed off the wall and walked through the crowd to join Seth.

“Are you ready?”

Apparently, since he was standing there, but Donavan’s uncertainty lingered. It was evident in his voice when it cracked. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Seth ran his hand down Donavan’s breastbone. “You look tense, and you’re shaking. Take a deep breath. This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

Donavan focused on Seth’s dark eyes as he inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. A calm settled over him as he continued to hold Seth’s gaze. A few more deep breaths and the trembling eased.

“Very good,” Seth praised. “Keep that focus on me and the feel of the ropes against your skin. You’re in for a hell of a treat.”

The crowd around them applauded, and Donavan’s attention was drawn to the stage. The man dressed in all leather was taking a bow, with the smaller man kneeling next to him, lowered.

“We have something special for you, today,” Rope Guy announced. “Master Seth has agreed to show us some of his knots. Give him a hand.”

The crowd clapped and cheered.

Donavan arched a brow in question. “Master Seth?”

“That’s what they call me. C’mon.” Seth took Donavan’s hand and led him onto the stage.

“Donavan, this is Master Rick. He taught me everything I know about knots.”

“Nice to meet you,” Donavan said.

“Same,” Rick said with a wide smile, then turned his head toward Seth. “Modest as always. Anything specific you need?”

Seth considered Donavan for a moment, his lip curling ever so slightly. “I might need a step stool, but that may take away from my big, bad Dom image. How about something for Donavan to sit on?”

“Boy, fetch a chair for Master Seth,” Rick instructed.

The man kneeling next to Rick jumped to his feet. “Yes, Sir.”

“If you could set it in front of the cross, I’d much appreciate it,” Seth said.

Once it was in place, Seth led Donavan to it. “Have a seat, please.”

Donavan sat with his back pressed against the cross. His skin prickled with the thought of every person in the audience watching him. His cheeks heated, and he instinctively bowed his head.

“You’re a natural.” Seth ran his fingers through Donavan’s hair.

Donavan’s throat was dry, barely able to swallow, so he didn’t respond, not trusting his voice. It was ridiculous how his body reacted to Seth’s praise. This was nothing more than an innocent exhibition, and yet Donavan couldn’t help but think it was more. A first step.

Seth slid a red rope through his hands, drawing Donavan’s gaze as Seth’s long fingers stroked over the nylon lengths. He then took Donavan’s hand in his. The first contact sent a rush of heat to Donavan’s groin. Seth positioned Donavan’s arm up and out from his body, then wrapped the rope around his wrist and secured it to the cross.

Seth worked silently, a look of concentration on his face as he continued to wrap the rope around Donavan’s forearm and bicep. By the time Seth had bound Donavan’s other arm, Donavan was breathing hard. He was beyond turned on. It was as though Seth had been working his cock rather than the ropes.

“How does that feel? Not too tight?” Seth asked.

Donavan tested the restraints. They were tight, but not overly so. “No.”

“Good. How does it feel?” Seth asked again, his voice low and husky, seductive, like he already knew the answer.

“I like it,” Donavan admitted.

Seth’s gaze dropped to Donavan’s crotch, and he licked his lips. “I think you more than like it. If you like having your arms bound, then you’re going to love what’s coming next.”

A thrill raced through Donavan, causing his dick to twitch. Jesus! If it got any better, he was going to come in his fucking jeans. His entire body thrummed with want and need.

Seth situated himself between Donavan’s thighs and held out his hand. Someone handed him another length of rope, but Donavan couldn’t rip his gaze from Seth. While Donavan found Seth handsome, he’d seen better looking. He’d had the pleasure of bedding a few that could be described as drop-dead gorgeous. But none had captivated him as Seth did. Each brush of Seth’s fingers ignited him, made him burn.

Seth’s thighs rubbed side to side where they pressed against Donavan’s legs as Seth worked, fanning the flames. The crowd melted away, Donavan’s entire focus centering on the man before him. A connection was being forged. He was sure Seth felt it too. The thick bulge tenting Seth’s slacks gave credence to the belief. Donavan only needed to lean a few inches forward, grab those lean hips….

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Donavan? You like being bound and at my mercy.” Seth wasn’t asking but making a statement. He knew.

A deep rumbling moan escaped Donavan before he could swallow it down.

“That’s all the answer I need,” Seth murmured. He leaned down, his lips a mere hairsbreadth away from Donavan’s ear. “Oh, the things I would love to do to you right now. You are so fucking hot like this.”

A shudder ripped through Donavan.

Seth chuckled at Donavan’s response as he tied intricate knots across Donavan’s chest. Donavan wished he hadn’t been so hesitant. Ha! More like a big scared baby. And for what? Now he was missing out on feeling the bindings, as well as Seth’s touch, against his bare skin. He closed his eyes and imagined it, lost himself in his arousal and the gentle sway of Seth’s body. Donavan floated on a wave of pleasure, both erotic and calming, as strange as that seemed. He hung there, for how long he didn’t know, but it ended all too soon.

The applause of the crowd snapped Donavan back. He opened his eyes to find Seth standing near the edge of the stage, taking a bow.

Disappointment settled in Donavan’s gut when Seth returned and started removing the ropes. It was like being taken to the edge of orgasm and then being denied the ultimate high. He wanted to tell Seth to stop, beg him to take him to the edge and let him fall, but he’d lost his voice.

Once the ropes were removed, Seth held out his hand and helped Donavan to his feet. The crowd applauded again. Why, Donavan didn’t understand. The show had stopped before the climax. Why would that make them clap? Donavan swayed, and Seth slid an arm around his waist to steady him.

“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you’d enjoy it. Thank you for allowing me to use your body as my canvas. It’s quite lovely.”

“You’re welcome, but it should be me thanking you. It was quite the… experience.”

Seth flashed him a brilliant smile.

“Ummm… you wouldn’t want to get a drink or something, would you?” Donavan asked, suddenly feeling shy.

“Sorry, but I have a previous engagement.” Seth released his hold on Donavan and took a step back. He pulled a card from his pocket. “Call me sometime if you’d like to take it a step further.”

Donavan took the card and studied it. Dr. Seth Manning MD, OBGYN. “You’re a doctor?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yeah, it does,” Donavan admitted.

Seth glanced down at his watch. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He slid his hand around Donavan’s neck, pulled his head down, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

With that, Seth turned and strode from the stage, shaking hands with people as he went. Donavan stood there dumbstruck as he watched him go. A doctor? A doctor leather daddy? His day was full of surprises. He pocketed the card and, still in a daze, headed back into the crowd.

Chapter Two

HE GLANCED back and forth to the small naked men kneeling on either side of him. Their hands were clasped behind their backs, their spines ramrod straight, heads bowed. Donavan looked down at his own nakedness. He was an Amazon compared to the other men—big and clumsy and hunched over, trying to make himself smaller. A man dressed from head to toe in black leather walked around them. The only thing visible was the man’s dark, nearly black eyes. Donavan had no clue who the man was, but it was imperative that he impress him.

A small crowd stood around them, waiting and watching for the leather-clad man to make his selection.

Donavan held his breath as the Dom touched the shoulder of the man on his right. The submissive looked up, his face lighting up with happiness.

“Lower your eyes!” the Dom demanded. The submissive’s face fell, and he crumpled, knowing he would not be chosen.

Donavan let out the breath he’d been holding when the Dom started walking around them again, his steps slow and measured. Donavan lowered his head but kept watch out of the corner of his eye when the Dom stopped next to the submissive on his left. Once again Donavan held his breath, silently begging the Dom not to pick that submissive.

The Dom laid his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, startling him. He unclasped his hands and reached out to run them down the leather-clad thigh in front of him.

“How dare you touch me without permission,” the Dom chastised, his tone dark and angry.

The submissive covered his face and began to sob.

Donavan straightened his spine, clasped his hands tighter, and pushed out his chest before releasing the pent-up breath.

The Dom stood in front of Donavan for what felt like hours. His pulse raced, perspiration bloomed across his brow, but he didn’t dare look up. Each tick of the clock caused the tension to ratchet even tighter until his head began to throb.

Finally, the Dom touched his shoulder. “You’ll have to do. Stand up.”

He stood, his head bowed, and whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

The Dom led him through the crowd. Men standing in groups of two and three parted like water as they passed. They walked along a dark hall and into a larger room. They picked up an increasingly large group of followers.

“Look at the size of that sub.” “What’s wrong with him?” “How could Master have picked someone like him?” As the men murmured and appraised Donavan disapprovingly, his gut began to roil as the nerves got the better of him. He struggled to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Every instinct in him screamed for him to run, that he didn’t belong here. He was big and powerful and shouldn’t allow anyone to tell him what to do. To hit him.

Run.

Only he couldn’t. He followed the Dom up the stairs and onto a stage. A spotlight fell on him, the rest of the room going dark. He could still hear the murmurs, the taunts, the disgust of the men whispering to one another.

“Get on your hands and knees,” the Dom instructed.

Donavan fell into position in the center of the stage. He spread his knees shoulder-width apart and splayed his hands on the hardwood floor.

The Dom moved out of Donavan’s line of vision. He felt alone, vulnerable. The ridicule continued, his humiliation causing his eyes to burn with tears. He refused to let them fall, blinking them away. He would not give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him cry. The Dom returned to the center of the stage. Donavan didn’t raise his head for fear he’d crumple like the first sub, yet he could see the tip of a riding crop as the Dom smacked it against his thigh.

The first strike hit Donavan’s ass with a resounding crack of leather. He yelped in pain and then bit down on his tongue to muffle the sound. Another strike and the pain became so intense Donavan couldn’t hold it back. He threw his head back, tears rolling down his face, and he screamed.

The men in the crowd burst into laughter, punctuated with hooting jeers and insults.

Suddenly the Dom appeared before him, his dark eyes narrowed. “I’ve hit men half your size with much more force and they handled it better than you did.” He dropped the crop to the floor and, before walking away, said, “You bore me.”

The crowd roared with laughter.

Donavan jerked straight up in bed. He scanned the darkness, wide-eyed and unsure of where he was, tears of humiliation still streaming down his cheeks. The room came into focus, and he recognized his bedroom.

“Just a dream,” he murmured in relief. He fell back to the mattress and ran his hands over his face.

What the fuck was up with this goddamn dream? It was the same dream he’d had the night before and the night before that. The same one he’d been having since the night of Pride nearly a week ago. He rolled onto his side, grabbed one of the pillows, and hugged it to his chest. He willed his racing heart and breath to slow down, but he couldn’t do anything to dispel the sickening feeling the dream had produced. And yet, part of his mind was analyzing it, trying to figure out what he could have done differently, how he could control his response to the pain so as to please the man in leather. Why was it even important to him that he please him? He tossed the thought over and over, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand why he even cared about pleasing a man he didn’t know. Why, even now with the humiliation still churning within him, he still wanted to feel that fucking crop against his ass, and why his cock was hard and throbbing.

“God, you’re a sick fucker.”

He wrapped his hand around his straining erection. The first pull caused a thrill to race down his spine and his balls to draw up tight against his body. He set a hard and fast rhythm. He shoved the pillow away and grabbed his sac, yanking it as he stroked himself. He tried to think of fucking and blowing and anything other than the images from his dream. But it was useless. The vivid memory of the crop hitting his ass popped into his head just as he started to shoot his load. He really was a sick fucker.

Chapter Three

SWEAT TRICKLED down Donavan’s temples, his arms shaking with the effort it took to hold up the weight. One more rep. He could do this. He inhaled deeply, lowered the bar to his chest, then blew out the breath as he strained, muscles protesting.

“Don’t you dare quit. Push!” Cain demanded.

Mustering the last of his strength, Donavan growled, back arching, and completed the bench press. He slumped down onto the bench, breathing harshly, then shook out his screaming arms as Cain set the bar into its cradle. Donavan’s arms burned, his back and chest tense and aching.

“I don’t even know why I put myself through this shit,” he grumbled.

“Because you look like a fucking god with all these bulging muscles. That’s why.” Cain dropped a white towel on Donavan’s chest.

Donavan sat up, straddling the bench, and swiped the towel over his face and neck. “I don’t feel like a god. I feel like a big pile of goo.” Two hours in the gym had left him drained.

“Right now you smell like a shit demon. Let’s hit the showers.”

Cain Eastman had been Donavan’s best friend for the past three years. They’d met when Cain hired in at the same truck plant where Donavan worked. They shared a love of the gym, Red Wings hockey, and muscle cars. Cain was also drop-dead gorgeous with his longish blond hair, dimpled chin, and strong jaw. Give Cain a thick mustache and he’d be the spitting image of a young Alan Jackson. He was also dominant. All things Donavan could hope for in a lover. Only one problem: Cain was completely straight. What he wasn’t was a macho meathead. He had no problems with Donavan’s sexuality, having been raised in an unconventional household by two hippie lesbians with the whole “peace, love, flower for your picnic” kind of attitude.

“You coming?” Cain yelled from the doorway to the locker room.

Donavan hoisted himself up, his muscles and tendons protesting, his joints popping and cracking. He grunted with the effort it took to move. Cain whipped off his clothes and tossed them on a bench, moving effortlessly as he set the taps on two showerheads.

“I seriously dislike you right now,” Donavan grumbled as he struggled to remove his shirt and shorts.

“Not my fault you’ve been slacking this week. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“I doubt it.” Donavan stepped under the hot flow of water. He splayed his hands on the concrete wall, leaning against it with his head hung. The pulsing water beat down on his back, and he moaned his pleasure. He was so not moving from this spot. Ever.

“Did you call that doctor dude yet?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not? You said you had it bad for the guy.”

Donavan turned his head toward Cain. “I never said I had it bad, only that he was hot. Besides, he’s a doctor.” A doctor into some shit I don’t know if I can handle and I am too fucking freaked to find out.

Cain poured a small amount of shampoo into his hand, then tossed it to Donavan. “And?”

“Hey!” Donavan protested and snatched the bottle out of the air a split second before it hit him in the side of the head.

“You’re not as sore as you let on.” Cain chuckled.

“Fuck you,” Donavan grumbled and poured a dollop into his palm before he set the bottle aside and lathered up his hair.

“Not going to happen, buddy,” Cain balked. “Now, the dominant doctor might. If you call him, that is.”

Donavan had thought about little else the past week. The images of Seth binding him and fucking him popped into his head randomly during his waking hours, often at inappropriate times. He’d picked up the phone several times, but no matter how badly he wanted to talk to Seth, Donavan couldn’t complete the call. Truth be told, as badly as he wanted to see Seth, to take him up on his offer for a private showing, Donavan was a coward. The bad dream had caused him to question those hidden desires.

A quick scrub to the rest of his body, suds rinsed, and he stepped out of the shower without responding.

Cain followed him to the lockers, obviously unwilling to let it go. “I don’t get you. You’ve been talking about this guy all week. I’m going to call him. No, I can’t. I should call him. Oh, I can’t call him. Blah, blah, blah. You sure you’re twenty-five? Because seriously, you’re acting like a little teenage bitch.”

Donavan flipped him off, then ran a towel over his head and down his chest. “Why are you so concerned about whether I call him or not?”

“Because, dude, I’ve never seen you act this way. I’m really starting to get tired of your wishy-washy attitude. He’s had you bound up all fucking week.”

You have no idea. “How about you worry about your love life and I’ll worry about mine.” Donavan tossed the damp towel into his locker and pulled on a clean T-shirt.

Cain let it go for the moment, but Donavan knew it wasn’t over. He never should have shared so much about Seth with his irritating friend.

Once they were dressed and packing up their gym bags, Cain struck again—this time snatching Donavan’s cell phone and spinning away.

“What the hell, man? Give me that,” Donavan demanded.

Cain spun again before Donavan could get his hands on him. “It’s for your own good.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Donavan froze. “Oh shit! I don’t like the sound of that. You better not be doing what I think you are.”

Cain laughed and slipped around the end of the lockers. Panic raced through Donavan, and he scrambled for Cain when he heard him say, “Hello, is this Dr. Manning?”

“Goddammit, Cain, give me that.” Donavan lunged at him, but Cain anticipated his movements and darted the opposite way.

“Donavan would like to speak with you if you have a moment.”

Cain stopped and turned to Donavan with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He held out the cell. “He wants to talk to you.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Donavan mouthed, then snatched the phone from Cain.

Cain obviously didn’t take the threat seriously because he strode away snickering like a loon.

Fucker!

Donavan cleared his throat and brought the phone to his ear. “Ummm… hello? Seth?”

“I’ve been hoping you would call,” Seth replied, his low, whiskey-smooth voice sending a jolt straight to Donavan’s groin.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. What other reason would I have had for giving you my card?”

“I’ve wanted to… I mean, I’ve been kind of busy,” he quickly amended, not wanting to sound desperate. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”

“As a matter of fact, you did.”

Another reason to kill Cain. “I’m really so—”

“Meet me for dinner tonight. Say six o’clock at Luigi’s?”

Shocked, Donavan dropped his phone but caught it before it could hit the floor. “The Italian place on Walworth?”

“That’s the place.”

Donavan’s pulse kicked up, and he couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his face. “Yeah, I can be there.”

“Great, see you then.”

The line went dead, and Donavan stared at the phone for a long moment while he tried to grasp what just happened. It had been that easy and he’d been agonizing over it all week? It was as anticlimactic as being bound, like there should have been more to it. The ground shaking, lightning striking? Something.

“Ugh!” Cain was right. He was acting like a little bitch. He turned off his phone and stomped back to his locker.

“Got a date, big boy?”

Donavan pointed a finger at him. “I’m still going to kill you.”

Cain shouldered his bag, a smirk on his face. “Better save all that energy for Dr. Feelgood. You can thank me later.” He strolled out of the locker room, waving without looking back.

Donavan shook his head. How the hell could he be mad at the bastard? He had a date with Seth. Still, he wasn’t going to practice his thank-you speech just yet.

STANDING OUTSIDE the door to Luigi’s, Donavan rolled his neck. The tie made him feel like he was choking, and the tight suit jacket restricted his movements. He hated wearing a suit, but after going through every article of clothing in his closet, it was the only option that seemed appropriate for the evening. Still, he felt like a fake, just like the suit he’d bought for a friend’s wedding. He didn’t wear shit like this, and he damn sure had no business having dinner with a doctor. He was a shop rat, for fuck’s sake.

As ridiculous as he felt, his excitement overrode his unease, and he pulled open the door. The restaurant was crowded, filled with Friday-night diners. Donavan was relieved by his choice in attire when he saw the women were in dresses and men in suit coats and ties.

A lean, attractive woman with a wide white smile greeted him. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

Donavan scanned the restaurant, looking for Seth. He glanced down at his watch. He was five minutes early; maybe Seth wasn’t here yet. “Actually, I’m meeting someone. Dr. Seth Manning.”

The hostess’s smile grew even larger. “You must be Donavan. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

Donavan followed her to a private area of the restaurant. His heartbeat kicked up when he spotted Seth sitting in an overstuffed red leather booth, the only patron in the small dining room. He was dressed in a tailored brown suit with a pale yellow dress shirt and striped tie of browns and burgundy, the colors complementing his olive skin and dark eyes. Damn, the man looked good, even better than Donavan remembered.

Seth slid gracefully out of his seat and stood when Donavan approached. “It’s great to see you. Please, join me,” he said and waved his arm toward the booth.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

The hostess pulled the table to one side to allow for Donavan’s large frame. Seth slid in close beside him before the hostess pushed the table back into place. “I’ll send the waiter right over.”

“Thank you, Michelle. Could you give us a few minutes before sending Jonathan over?”

“Yes, sir.”

Seth watched her move away from the table, not turning to Donavan until she was gone. “It really is good seeing you. You look great.”

“Thanks,” Donavan replied, feeling uncomfortable with the compliment. His cheeks heated, and he looked away. “So do you.”

“Would you like some wine?”

“I’m not much of a wine drinker. I’m more of the craft beer kind of guy, but I’ll give it a try.”

Seth poured a small amount of red wine into the empty glass in front of Donavan, then picked up his glass, which was half full, and held it aloft. “Here’s to a night of new things.”

The seductive tone of Seth’s voice hit Donavan hard, and he had to clamp down on the shudder that threatened. He raised his glass and clinked it gently against Seth’s. “To new things.” He took a sip, the flavors of licorice, berry, and spice exploding on his tongue. It was delicious and warmed his throat and belly. He took another sip.

“I want to apologize for my friend Cain calling you.”

“Why is that?” Seth asked, setting his wine down and leaning back in his seat.

“I just meant—well, I have wanted to call you, I just….” Donavan huffed out a frustrated breath. He sounded like a babbling idiot. “This is very good wine.” He took a big gulp.

“I’m glad you like it,” Seth responded with a knowing smile. “You seem a little nervous. Why is that?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not normally one to—in Cain’s words—act like a teenage bitch.”

“I like this Cain.” Seth chuckled. “Then it must be me you’re afraid of.”

Donavan shifted in his seat. Seth’s nearness, his scent filling Donavan’s nostrils, his heat warming him, ratcheted the nerves up even greater, or perhaps it was anticipation. Either way, his body was thrumming.

“Perhaps a little,” Donavan admitted, seeing no sense in lying to Seth.

“Then I have a new challenge tonight, don’t I?”

“Which is?” Donavan asked curiously.

“To set your mind at ease, all the while enticing your body.” Seth laid his hand on Donavan’s thigh and squeezed it. “I do like a challenge.”

Donavan nearly choked on his wine at Seth’s forwardness. He set his glass aside and wiped the corners of his mouth with a white linen napkin. Donavan wasn’t used to men being so brazen with him. Not that he didn’t like it; he did. It was simply unusual. His size usually intimidated people, but not Seth. Seth might be much smaller than Donavan, but his confidence belonged in a body twice his size.

“You’re not quite sure yet how to take me, are you?” Seth remarked.

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

Seth patted Donavan’s thigh and then handed him a menu. “Let’s order, and we’ll discuss our relationship over dinner. May I suggest the swordfish?”

Donavan accepted the menu and opened it, glad for the distraction. He needed a moment to get his nerves under control. It was difficult with the heat of Seth’s hand seeping into Donavan’s thigh and the way his thumb rubbed back and forth, creating a buzz of arousal to race along his nerve endings.

He scanned the menu. It was written in Italian, and Donavan had no clue what the hell it said. He wasn’t about to ask either and look like a complete idiot in front of Seth. He closed it and set it aside. “I’m not much into fish. How is their chicken Alfredo?”

“The best in town.” With his free hand, he gestured to a man, presumably Jonathan, who was waiting just outside the doorway.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Yes, Jonathan. I’ll have the swordfish, and my companion will have the chicken Alfredo. But could you bring us one of Antonio’s appetizer specials?”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Seth leaned an elbow on the table and studied the wine in his glass. He swirled the dark red liquid around, then took a sip before addressing Donavan. “Have you been thinking about our last time together?” Seth took another sip of his wine, then met Donavan’s gaze. “I have. A lot, actually.”

“It’s been on my mind,” Donavan admitted, being purposely vague. He was curious as to what Seth’s thoughts were on the subject.

“Have you considered doing it again, in perhaps a more private setting?”

Every fucking night. Donavan shifted, spreading his legs a little to give his swelling cock a little more room. “Yes.”

Seth took Donavan’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. “When I first spotted you at Pride, I had a feeling about you. I’m so glad my instincts were correct.”

Donavan looked down at their hands, then back up at Seth and tilted his head. “You could tell that by just looking at me?”

“No, it was the way you were looking at the various submissives in attendance with a longing expression that gave you away.”

Once again, Donavan found himself unable to answer. It was true; he had envied the bound men, had wanted to be the one kneeling at the Dom’s feet. Luckily he didn’t need to respond, the waiter arriving just in time. He placed a large tray of appetizers on the table and disappeared again.

“This looks great,” Donavan commented, trying to decide what to try first.

“Antonio is an amazing chef, and he spoils me. I repay him by eating here at least once a week.”

Donavan was reminded again that size wasn’t the only difference between him and Seth. He might not have been able to read the menu’s food choices, but he hadn’t missed the prices. On his measly paycheck, he’d be lucky if he could afford this place once a month. Donavan selected a mini bruschetta bread and popped it into his mouth.

Seth released Donavan’s hand. He spread his napkin over his lap, then used his fork to place two marinated shrimp on his plate. Donavan suddenly realized he must have looked like a fool. Eating with his hands in a place like this? Jesus, he was totally out of his league here. He shouldn’t have come. He cringed at his stupidity.

“Have I said something wrong?”

Donavan shook his head. He finished chewing his food, then washed it down with a sip of wine. “No, but I am curious as to why you invited me out.”

“Because I enjoyed our little time together. I’m also quite attracted to you,” Seth responded easily.

“I’m a factory worker. I don’t know which fork to use.” He pointed at the array of silverware. “And not only have I never had wine, but I’m also pretty sure I’ve never drunk out of crystal before.”