Page 4 of His Holy Chaos

"And are you here today as a participant or just an observer?" I ask. “I wonder if you’re going to be brave enough to try something.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he smiles. "I'm not in the habit of discussing my preferences with strangers in public venues."

I laugh. "Oh, right, just like you aren’t discussing how much you dislike brats. I was wrong before. You're definitely a Dom. Only Doms get this particular stick up their ass about privacy. You know what happens here, right? Dave told you? People get naked and do unspeakable things to each other. Privacy is sort of a moot point."

"Privacy isn't about location," Ford says, matching my forward posture, closing the distance between us until I can smell his cologne. Oh, hell yes. "It's about choice. About revealing yourself on your own terms, slowly, until you have them wherever you want them."

The way he says that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. There's something hypnotic about him. He is 101% focused on our conversation despite the chaos around us. The club's lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the line of his jaw.

"And what terms would those be, darling?" I ask, my tongue wetting my lower lip. He notices but doesn't react beyond a slight smirk.

"Respect would be a start. Obedience."

I snort. "God, you sound like a dating profile. 'Loves long walks on the beach, mutual respect, obedience.'"

"And you sound exactly like I’d expect you to. Inappropriate and irreverent.”

People don't usually cut through my bullshit this quickly. They either buy into it or get too annoyed. Ford seems unbothered, his gaze still steady on mine.

“And irresistible, I know. I hope this is good. Or bad, very bad,” I wink at him. “As you insist, I can try to be more appropriate, then. But for real, what brings you here tonight? Besides Dave’s insistence."

"It’s mostly his insistence," he gestures vaguely toward the bar where Dave is now draped over someone I don't recognize. "He thought I needed to get out more. And you? Why did you come back? Dave said you haven’t showed up for months."

I shrug. “I came to meet Doms who call me empty-headed, inappropriate, and irreverent,” I say, suddenly aware of how close we're leaning toward each other, how the rest of the club has faded. "Jury's still out if it was worth it. Ask me again in the morning. Yes, this is an invitation."

Ford keeps smirking but it seems like I reminded him of something. He glances at his watch, and his expression shifts. He straightens, creating distance between us that feels bad.

"Unfortunately, I need to be going." He finishes his juice-slash-tea. "It's nearly eleven."

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. When none comes, I ask, "And what happens at eleven? Do you turn back into a pumpkin?"

"I have a bedtime," he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, expected even.

I can't help the dramatic eye roll. "Of course you do," I scoff, leaning back in my chair. "You're a boring Dom, just like every other Dom out there. All structure and no spontaneity. I bet you eat broccoli every day at every meal."

Ford stands, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt. He regards me for a long moment, and then he smiles, softly, softer than before. "Structure is good for us, Jude. And not at every meal, but certainly most days. Good night."

He winks and turns. He goes to where Dave is, tells him something close to his ear, and the next second he’s gone.

"Boring," I mutter to myself. But he’s not boring. He’s very interesting. Boring isn't quite the right word at all.

Chapter 3. Jude

Ford made me unexpectedly happy. For a moment, I was completely present, not drowning. It’s good to feel like this even if it’s just for a little while. I'm still smiling when I spot Callum in a corner booth, holding a whiskey cup.

I go to him. He’s tall, much taller than me. He’s even taller than Emmett was. Maybe 6’2”. He’s skinny and has a beautiful body. Yes, I’d seen him naked several times. He’s black and his dreadlocks are put up in a bun today. Both ears loaded with rings. He’s a femboy, so he’s wearing a pink dress with lace stockings hugging his legs. He looks so fucking good, it’s unfair.

I cut through the crowd, dodging a pair of leather-clad men engaged in some complicated negotiation involving rope and clothespins. Callum doesn't look up until I slide into the booth across from him, my knee bumping his under the table.

"You look like shit," I announce. A complete lie.

He raises his eyes, bloodshot, and studies my face. "You don't. That's new. You look… okay."

"It’s new for me too. Don't get used to it. I know I won’t." I signal a passing server. "Two rounds of shots. The expensive stuff. Glynn will pay for it."

“What has got you so cheerful, little bro?”

“I was bantering with this hot Dom. It was loads of fun.” But admitting that to him makes my heart hurt a little.