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“Submission does not make you look like a pussy, Shade,” I snapped. “How many times do I have to remind you of that?”
“Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You’re still so damn new.” We had gone to a couple of BDSM clubs and decided to implement that lifestyle into our daily lives, but Shade was still learning.
“I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now,” he liked to point out from time to time.
“You can do this, as you say, for your whole life and still not know everything,” I reminded him.
“Sunny, I need to feel something other than my fucking palm and I know she will be what I need. What we both need.”
“I know.” Just as I was about to push away from the wall and head back inside the bar, the very reason Shade and I were on edge, walked up to us.
Meadow lifted her hand, giving us a small wave. Her curvy hips sashayed from side to side. Her soft curls fell down around her face. That dress, that damn white dress, hugged her curves and made me want to weep like a baby. My cock hardened, pushing against my jeans and begging to come out and play.
She tilted her head to the side, giving me a small smirk. “Are we having a party?” she asked, looking between Shade and I.
“Just out for a smoke,” Shade told her, holding the pack out to her.
She shook her head. “Don’t smoke but thank you. Now if you have weed, I’m down for that.”
“Maybe later,” he said, his eyes traveling down the length of her.
“What are you doing out this late?” I asked, interrupting my partner’s eye-fucking.
Meadow raised an eyebrow. “I never did get your names,” she said, not answering my question.
“What did you put us in your phone as then?” I could have sworn I gave her our names.
“I put you in as Hottie One and him as Hottie Two,” Meadow said, like it was no big deal. No blush coated her skin. No hint of amusement danced in her eyes. She was straight up honest and I found I could appreciate that.
I held out my hand. “Sunny Harrison.”
She grinned, slipping her small hand in mine. “Meadow Rodriguez.” Her grip was firm. “Sunny? Really?”
“My parents were hippies,” I explained.
“And how about you, baby boy?” she asked Shade, licking her lips.
He coughed, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Roy Allen but I go by Shade.”
“Oh I like it.” She looked between us both. “Sunny and Shade.”
I chuckled. “It works.”
“So how did you get the nickname Shade?”
Shade’s eyes flicked to mine. Something flashed behind them before he looked back down at her. I couldn’t make out what it was, but it was something that I wasn’t ready for. That neither of us was ready for. But I had a feeling that no matter what, we would find out what that was and there would be no going back from it.
“I met Sunny when we were both prospects for Hell’s Harlem. We clicked and bonded over that, so we’ve been best friends ever since. We were inseparable, so the guys nicknamed me Shade and it stuck.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.
But it was. Because we were more than best friends. It was hard to explain to people, so that was the reason we always gave them.
“Interesting.” Meadow walked between us and headed to the door of the bar. “I want a beer. You guys coming?” She disappeared inside, not waiting for us to follow.
When Shade went to walk past me, I grabbed his arm.
He staggered a bit. “What?”
