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“Telling her what to do and when to do it,” Foster said, his mouth tilting up at the corner. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
He didn’t either. Though he’d topped women at The Ranch on occasion, it was all just fun and games, not the real dominance people like Foster wielded in the bedroom. That always seemed like too much work. Why waste all the energy on building trust with someone you’d only be with one night? But he couldn’t deny that the thought of Oakley doing exactly as he instructed had left him fighting a hard-on all night. “I have my moments.”
Gibson looked back and forth between the two of them. “So you’re seeing her tonight?”
“No. She—Look, I’m not going to talk about this with you two dickheads. It’s between me and her. All you need to know is that it’s late and it’s time for you to leave.” He stood.
They followed him, but as they moved out of the living room, Foster’s eyebrows were up near his hairline and Gibson didn’t look at all ready to let the conversation go. Probably because Pike had called him out about his crush on Sam the feisty domme. Luckily, Foster stepped up and clapped Gibson on th
e back before Gib could say anything else. “Come on, man. I need to get back home anyway and I think I’ve had one too many. You can drop me off.”
Gibson frowned and met Pike’s gaze as he grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Look, you know I’m not going to get up in your business. But don’t fuck up anything at Tessa’s place. My brother will kill me if you cause Tessa or any of her employees grief.”
Pike tucked his hands in his pockets. “Understood.”
Gibson seemed appeased by that. He walked by Pike and thumped him on the back. “Break hearts somewhere else, brother. I’m sure there’s a line of willing victims waiting somewhere.”
Pike knew he was supposed to laugh, but the jab dug into his ribs and twisted.
Gibson didn’t notice but Foster did. They’d been friends too long for him to miss much. Foster let Gibson head out the door before he said to Pike. “You good, man?”
Pike’s hands curled in his pockets. “I’m fine.”
“You into her?”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t do casual. She’s got a kid. Not my type.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Too bad, ’cause it’s the only answer you’re getting.”
A knowing smirk touched Foster’s lips. “Don’t forget to give her a safe word.”
“It’s not like that.”
Pike’s phone beeped in his hand.
“Uh-huh.” Foster nodded at the phone. “Sounds like the girl you’re not seeing is done with her bath and dressed for you. Your move, Master Pike.”
“Good night, asshole.”
Foster gave him another clap on the back and slipped out the door.
Pike sagged against the counter once the door shut and lifted the phone. He knew the next instruction that would be on his screen. Get in bed and turn the lights low. Now it’s your turn. To get your next instruction you have to call. (Allotted time: 5 minutes.)
He rubbed his hand over his eyes. Was she there? Was she between her sheets, thinking of him? Or had she blown off the whole thing?
She’d told him today that this couldn’t go any further. She’d told him and he hadn’t accepted it. She’d probably gotten the first message and blocked his number.
He punched in five minutes on the microwave timer and hit Start.
The time seemed to slow as he watched the numbers count down, and the silence of the kitchen turned oppressive. Four minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes.
Monty wandered in, tiny nails clicking on the wood floors, and stared at up at Pike, a question in his eyes. What the hell are you doing standing here?
He was wondering the same thing. He punched Clear on the timer, the last thirty seconds disappearing, and turned to go to the bedroom.
“Come on, Monts. We’re done here.”
