I’d be a shit Daddy if I didn’t encourage that gutsy behavior, so I obviously gave him two thumbs up in approval.
Later tonight when I had railed my husband good and proper, I’d have notes about his introduction. He’d spoken about safety, of course, as he always stressed, and he’d spoken about his background. And not once in that speech—which was partly meant to reassure the members that he knew what he was doing—had he mentioned that his ropework had been featured in magazines and that communities from all over the country wanted him at their events. He’d given demos at the biggest kink conventions.
I knew he wasn’t the type to brag, but come on. Nate wasn’t merely a bondage enthusiast; he had studied techniques and history and anatomy and rope for over fifteen years. He would have a PhD in ropework, if such a thing existed.
Seasoned kinksters who were into bondage knew his reputation, but these newbs didn’t.
“So, to recap,” he said. “What’s the first thing you grab when you enter the dojo if you’re gonna have a rope session with someone?”
Several hands went into the air.
“Leo, was it?”
“Yes, Sir. Safety shears.”
“Correct,” Nate replied. “And how quickly can a nerve injury set in? Jordan.”
“In mere seconds, at the worst,” Jordan said. “Also, at the worst, it can be permanent.”
“That’s right.” Nate picked up a bundle of rope from his table. “Never hesitate to sever the rope. It’s more than nerve damage too. Cutting off circulation can, in worst-case scenarios, create blood clots.” He paused. “Now, let’s talk rope. If you continueon your bondage journey, you’ll develop your own preferences sooner or later. I, personally, love jute. Nattie, whom you’ll meet eventually, is the queen of nylon—a material I rarely want to touch with a ten-foot pole. But eight times out of ten, when we host tutorials and sessions in here, we will use this six-millimeter hemp.”
I tuned out as I watched him toss that bundle of rope between his hands while he spoke. And it made me think about Saturday. The masquerade ball. An evening that’d always been perfect for Predators to find their prey. Maybe we were in nice clothes instead of sturdy ones. Maybe we were in a club instead of a forest. But when the lights were low, anticipation buzzed in the air, and everyone was hiding behind a mask, it was all the same. It was a fancy takedown.
The event was popular every year, with upward of 150 members joining. Each door leading to a playroom had to remain open, because it was the one night of the year for voyeurs.
Nathan and I had never participated, of course. Not the way we should have, because I had been held back by my own bullshit. But this year…
It was also one of the few events we had to pay extra to attend, given the cost to put it all together. Which had already started. The organizers were downstairs right now, finalizing shit before volunteers showed up tomorrow to help with setup.
A special night at Mclean House, for sure.
It should be special for us too. With some extra planning, Nate and I could probably make something happen. We could come out here tomorrow, just the two of us. I’d need an hour or so, and I had to talk to a few of my friends who’d be here. Afterward, we could pick up dinner on the way home.
I rubbed James’s thigh, shifting my hand a little higher, and hoped we could incorporate Nate’s love for bondage onSaturday. I wanted us to prey on our enticing neighbors. Maybe throw them off a little bit. Maybe scare them. Within reason. And maybe scare was the wrong word. I wanted them—mainly James—uncomfortable. Unsettled. Not about us, but about what he could expect.
He shifted in his seat next to me, not appearing very comfortable now either.
I withheld my smirk and eased my hand over his cock, to which he sucked in a breath and tensed up.
There we go.
Now I knew what was gonna be on his mind tomorrow when we started a new project in Georgetown. I’d noticed he watched me more when we arrived at a new worksite, because that was when I yelled at my crew at the slightest screw-up. Couldn’t help it. Our job could get dangerous real quick, and I had zero tolerance for incompetence. If you wanted to work in scaffolding, you better tighten the fuck up and know your shit.
James let out an unsteady breath as I applied pressure.
Since Nathan was just showing basic knots used in Shibari, I didn’t feel like I had to pay attention to the demo right now. Instead, I leaned over and spoke for only James to hear.
“Do you and Jordan have everything you need for Saturday?”
He swallowed and side-eyed me. “Um, yeah. I guess.”
“We’re spending the night out here,” I told him.
“Oh. Uh…” He took another breath. As if he couldn’t help himself, he tried to push against my hand, all subtle-like. “We’ll pack an overnight bag. Are, uh…are we arrivin’ together?”
“No.” I slipped my fingers down his balls and squeezed them lightly through his jeans. “You and Jordan will show up when the doors open. Nate and I… We’ll find you.”
He clenched his jaw, his chest falling and rising faster. “Only you can make that sound like a threat.”
