Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
At forty-six, he had his whole life written in stone, and he liked it that way. He’d been a Sadist and a Top for as long as we’d been in kink. Nothing had changed. He’d never doubted that part of himself. He’d observed others, and he’d explored to gain more experience, but he’d landed comfortably back in his own shoes. Sadist, Top, end of discussion. Not a Dom, not a Master, not a lifestyle kind of guy. He’d had more success with vanilla relationships.
I envied that.
A break would do me good. Partly because I wanted more vanilla in my life. If anything, that was when I was the happiest. I felt less pressure. Sure, I’d probably miss the excitement of rough play and adrenaline rushes, but there were other communities. I could find someone to play with casually.
“Do you have plans later?” I asked.
“Dylan’s home for the weekend.”
Oh, right. I’d forgotten.
I was so damn proud of that kid. I was obviously proud of my own son too, but Dylan had done a 180 his sophomore year in high school. Now he was at NYU and wanted to become an architect.
His teenage rebellious phase had been…long. Losing his mother and then his grandmother had made him angry. He’d gone through a whole year of “You’re not my fucking dad” with Reid. But little by little, Reid’s steadfastness had left a mark. He’d let the kid get all the anger out of his system, while discreetly providing comfort and stability—a safe place for Dylan to land.
Reid’s relationship with Dylan’s mother hadn’t lasted that long—he did prefer men after all—but he’d understood early on that a bond with a kid couldn’t or shouldn’t be severed. After the breakup, he’d been an every-other-weekend kind of dad for a while, until Dylan had wanted to spend more time with him. No one had been happier than Reid, and they’d settled into the same 50/50 arrangement I had with my own boy.
Then when Dylan’s mother passed away from cancer, things had unraveled for a while. Dylan had pushed everyone away, he’d acted out, and he’d let his grades tank.
These days, they couldn’t be closer. Dylan took every opportunity to come home and visit. He could’ve waited till Thanksgiving like most college kids, but not him.
The sound of the elevator brought me back to the present, and I took a deep breath and exchanged a look with Reid.
Here we go.
CHAPTER 2
Reid McKinley
Nineteen members showed up.
At one point, I’d…okay, I wouldn’t have called them friends—I wasn’t what one might call a people person—but I’d at least enjoyed having them around for events and the occasional barbecue at someone’s house.
Now I was over it. They were all childish motherfuckers who couldn’t stop feeding the drama. Didn’t matter if they were in their late forties or early twenties.
Max and I didn’t belong here anymore.
I stood next to him as he started his speech.
“Some of you have asked why we haven’t sent out the membership invoices for this month, and it’s because there won’t be one,” he said.
I watched the confusion flit through.
“Wait, what?” Linda asked.
It dawned on George right away. “Fuck, are we closing?”
I folded my arms over my chest. Damn right.
Max inclined his head. “Yes,” he confirmed. “November is our last month, and we’ll be using what’s left of the community funds to cover the expenses. We have no more events planned.”
“Oh my God, nooo,” Tina complained.
“But why?” Donnie pressed. He looked distraught. “Is this because of the drama on Discord?”
It wasn’t just there. They brought their catty fights to events.
Max slid me a look, and I wasn’t touching that one. He could talk. I could stand here and do nothing. He was better with words. I would end up telling everyone to go fuck themselves.
In my head, I was already on my way home. I’d call for pizza and ask Max to come over for dinner. He didn’t get Alex until Monday anyway, so he could chill with Dylan and me. Have a few beers and relax. I’d installed two heaters on the rooftop and everything.
Max cleared his throat, and he plastered that look on his face. The one I saw sometimes when I stopped by his practice for lunch and he’d just had a difficult patient in his chair.
“Listen,” he said, “Reid and I have done what we could for Old Town—and we’ve loved running this community for almost eleven years now, but…”
Yeah, but. But, good-fucking-bye.
It took no convincing to get Max to come over for pizza.
In my opinion, he should get a new place closer to me. He’d never liked his condo. He’d bought it because it was close to Alex’s school, but Max was an Old Town man like me. We wanted the old buildings, the homes that were filled with history and character, not some top-modern complex with a doorman.