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Shut up, evil Tris.

I’m an angel, and you know it.

Ugh. The angel and devil on my mind’s shoulders were exhausting sometimes. Especially when I couldn’t tell them apart.

But the little devil—or angel—had a point. Despite Henry agreeing to keep our relationship a secret all those months ago, I was willing to bet that he would announce to the entire bar and the world that I was his if I’d let him. But . . .

I’d agreed to date him in secret while we sorted our shit out. I thought it was what I wanted, and it was probably smart to keep our relationship under wraps, but what if we actually just told everyone? They’d be happy for us, of course, and Henry would fit seamlessly into my life as if he’d always been there—because he always had.

But what if we told our friends and something bad happened between us?

What if Henry finally realized I wasn’t worth it?

A short time later, the stage lights brightened, the music quieted, and the emcee announced the next demonstration into the mic. My stomach tightened as Henry and Carter took the stage, which Henry had told me would be similar to the scene I’d missed back in October. Despite my nerves, I was excited to see it.

My Daddy was dressed in his unbelievably sexy leather pants—seriously, how did a man who was almost fifty pull those off so goddamn well?—and a simple harness that put his gloriously hairy pecs on display. The silver hair on his chest, intermingled with a few dark-brown strands, shimmered in the spotlights atop a canvas of black ink. The vines and leaves and birds and all manner of nature-themed tattoos that snaked up his torso to his neck, graced his sides and arms, and disappeared below his waistline were now on full display under the stage lights. I itched to trace the line of every tattoo, run my fingers through his chest hair, rub my stubbled face against his furry chest. I’d done it many times before—I knew firsthand how glorious it felt.

His arms were bare, the veins on those goddamn forearms popping out between the more subtle inked designs and highlighted in the shadows created by the bright lights. His large, strong hands flexed and pulled as he and the emcee carried what appeared to be a modified massage table forward, setting it parallel to the front of the stage.

I shivered, leaning forward.

I spotted Carter off to the right of the stage. Henry had pointed him out in passing before, but we’d never met, so I studied him a little closer now. He appeared to be a few years older than me and was dressed plainly in a loose T-shirt and jeans, so I supposed those would come off. From what Henry had told me, they were legally able to be completely naked, but only onstage, and I wondered if that was what he had planned. I doubted Henry would be fully bare, but my dick perked up at the thought, and damn, the little shit would be down with that. And by “little shit,” I meant me.

And yeah, okay, my dick, too.

The thought of Henry naked and on display in front of a crowd, maybe with me edging him until he begged or showing off a cage or one of his plugs flew to my mind unbidden as Carter stepped onto the stage.

Holy fuck.

My dick was steel at this point, and now I had plenty of ideas for what I wanted to do at that club in Portland, if ever Henry could get away from Mix It Up long enough to do it. Maybe he would even return the favor if—when—we did.

I watched as Henry pulled Carter’s shirt up his soft stomach and chest then over his head and helped him out of his jeans. The movements were fluid and sensual, and I decided I was one-hundred-percent on board with this. Watching my man onstage, performing for this riveted audience—not just me in the privacy of his home—was indescribably hot.

After Carter stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks and jeans, Henry pulled his gray boxer briefs down and off his thick legs that were covered with thin, light hair. As his entire beautiful body was unveiled, I could fully see Carter for the sweetheart Henry had described him to be. Enthralled, I played with my bottom lip as I simply stared. I couldn’t wait to see what came next.

After fitting Carter with a headworn mic, Henry helped him onto the table, ensuring the boy was lying down comfortably before he set to work. Because I was so caught up in the erotic undressing, I hadn’t noticed someone place a small wooden table filled with a variety of items right behind where Henry stood at the foot of the massage table. He turned now, made a show of selecting his first implement, then moved back toward the boy, walking behind the table so he wouldn’t block the audience’s view.

“Carter, can you tell me your safewords again?”

The boy’s voice was clear and strong over the speakers. “Red to stop, yellow to pause and discuss, and green to go. And if I can’t speak, one snap to pause, two snaps to stop altogether. And a thumbs-up for go.”

“Good boy.” I could see Carter’s answering smile from here. “And your color now?”

“Green.” Chuckles scattered throughout the room at Carter’s rapid response.

Henry laughed into his own headworn mic. “I’m glad, boy. You speak up the instant you need to, okay?”

Carter nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Perfect,” Henry praised. “Then let’s begin.”

I watched, completely captivated, as my Daddy began a session I recognized as sensory play. Carter moaned as Henry blindfolded then gagged him, checking in every step of the way. The red ball gag brought back the memory of me using a nearly identical one on Henry last December. God, that had been fucking hot, and just the thought made me shift in my seat. Maybe I imagined it, but I saw Henry’s breathing pick up as he attached the gag behind Carter’s head, and I wondered if he was remembering our scene as well.

Henry reached for the side table and picked up a feather. He moved to where Carter was waiting and started to drag it over his chest, his nipples, his stomach. I could tell Carter was shivering from here, and I could hear his whimpers even through his gag as my man teased him with sensation.

Henry dragged the feather over Carter’s erect cock, and I nearly choked on my spit as Carter moaned louder around the ball stretching his mouth. Why the fuck was that so hot?

After dragging the feather down the inside of Carter’s thighs and across his bare feet, faint whimpers and cries accompanying every movement, Henry abandoned it for what I recognized as a Wartenberg wheel. The second he pressed the spiked wheel into the fat of Carter’s stomach, the boy jumped and cried out behind the gag. I’d never heard a more expressive sub, and I found myself wishing he didn’t have the gag in his mouth.