Apex Predator (The Game #11) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
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“I don’t know,” he mused. “I pick up a bottle in Mexico whenever I’m there. Did wonders when I threw my back out a few years ago. They probably don’t have the FDA’s approval.”

I grinned. “Quality shit, in other words.”

“My kind of shit.” He nodded and pulled the thread through the needle. “Okay, try to think of somethin’ else. Tell me about your snakes. Or tell me what you think of Mclean House.”

I squinted and thought about what to go with first. Best to go with Mclean, because once I got started on my snakes, I just didn’t stop. “My first impressions of the Mclean members I’ve met are great.” Hard not to adore Corey’s partners, partly because they’d helped him get away from his son-of-a-bitch of an ex. “You’ll like their community,” I said. “They’re good guys. From what I understand, several of them are pretty hardcore in their play.”

I looked away as Ty eased the needle through my banged-up flesh. The biggest abrasion was almost an inch wide, so he was essentially doing patchwork.

I made a face when the sting got worse and forced myself to keep talking. “Sometimes, though, with Macklin, it’s a little too much talk. But that’s understandable since we don’t have a natural Sadist/masochist dynamic.”

“What do you mean by too much talk?”

I exhaled. Breathe through the pain.

“I guess it’s in general sometimes.” I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and jaw. “More often than not when I meet a Top, they kill the chemistry with too many discussions on limits. And don’t get me wrong—I get safety procedures. What I don’t enjoy are endless lists of ‘Can I do this?’ and ‘Can I do that?’ Like, fine if you wanna ask me about triggers and safewords and levels of play, but do you really need to ask if you can spank me? If I approach a Top about rape play, chances are spanking is a nonissue.”

Ty chuckled.

“I think I’m kind of in the wrong there,” I had to mention. “But that’s how I feel. I want a dose of reality with my fear play. I don’t want the Top to know every little thing. I take responsibility for my own participation, and I would never blame a Top if we discovered a trigger together. That’s life.”

He hummed. “So what information do you think is enough for a Top to know beforehand?”

Good question.

“I’m safe and get tested regularly,” I said, starting to tick each item off my fingers. “I mean no harm. I know my safewords—green, yellow, red—and if my mouth is covered, I’ll pinch the Top three times where I can reach—and I have no known triggers. My threshold for pain is fairly high, and I get off on the consensual version of rape, including the pains that come with it. Grabbing, punching, slapping, choking, you name it. Being hunted down, cornered, forced. That’s where I find my rush.” I couldn’t stress this next part enough. “Knowing that I can put a stop to everything with a safeword is the only life vest I’m interested in. That’s BDSM to me. But, you know, some would argue it’s not enough to be considered informed consent.”

Macklin and I were stuck in a looped argument on the matter. Which was fine. Like I’d told Ty, Mack and I didn’t share that dynamic. He was naturally dominant with me, sexually, but not sadistic.

“They adhere to the, uh…what do you call it, Risk-Aware Consensual Kink or whatever—at Mclean, don’t they?” Ty asked.

“RACK. I think so. Yeah.” I chanced a glance at my arm, only to look away again. Needle was right in there.

“So if a Top is comfortable with that speech of yours—wouldn’t you say he’s aware of the risks?”

That’s exactly what I would say. That was my argument. “I would. Macklin wouldn’t. He wants to pin down every risk.”

“Ah.”

I didn’t blame Macklin or anything. Or judge him, for that matter. And he didn’t blame me either; he thankfully understood my reasoning. He just wasn’t comfortable with that little information.

“I reckon you’ll find Shay on your side,” Ty said. “I overheard him with the Tenleys earlier, and most people probably aren’t comfortable with their approach to play either.”

I nodded. Macklin had divulged a bit. River and Reese did have a riskier approach.

“You overhear a lot,” I noted.

“People talk a lot.” The smirk was clear in his voice. “Until there’s booze involved. Then I’m the talker.”

Oh, really?

“I gotta get you drunk,” I joked.

“That a fact?” he murmured. “So there’s something you want me to say?”

Let’s not go there.

I kept my gaze averted and bit at a cuticle.

Ty didn’t press for an answer, thank fuck, and instead focused on finishing stitching me up. Twelve sutures in the end, followed by a domly speech; I had to tell him the minute the pain got worse, and he wanted to monitor my temperature. Running a slight fever wasn’t uncommon, but anything worse than that could mean the wound was infected.


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