Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I skimmed it.” I’d read the important stuff.
“I read it’s a new feature,” Jordan announced. “Like, there’d been some complaints about how the ball wasn’t actually a ball, so they’ve added ball stuff.”
“You talk a lot about balls, little one,” I told him.
He grinned goofily.
Nate rubbed my arm. “Don’t worry, it’s only mandatory for the Game participants.”
Thank fuck. I couldn’t fucking waltz.
I bet it was Lucian who’d complained.
As we returned to the club area—nay, ballroom—I put on my mask again.
It sure looked like they were getting ready for something in there. The dance floor had cleared, and Reese was holding a microphone on the low stage. He was soon joined by Lucas and Kingsley.
Reese spotted me and shook his head in amusement. “Leave it to Ash to interpret black-tie very freely.”
Yeah, he said that into the microphone so that all heads turned my way. But fuck it. I wasn’t the one wearing a tie and underwear like James. Jordan had it easier because he hid behind Nathan. He was also giggling up a storm back there.
“Freely or literally?” Corey piped up. “Because I used to think the black-tie dress code meant you had to wear a black tie.”
“We can be geniuses together, little Cruz,” I said.
Corey beamed.
If they were doing individual contests for the masks, his green frog mask better bring it home.
“For the record, Reese,” I said loud enough, “you might wanna check your own info page. It clearly states black-tie optional. In other words, I’m going the extra mile for you.”
“Just go sit down,” he laughed. But he laughed in the way that also told me he was done with my obnoxious ass.
Nate did that sometimes.
I blew him a kiss before aiming for one of the few available spots in the seating area. The others continued with their Game fun, and I—
“Excuse me, Sir Ashhole.”
Well, damn. I came to a stop and faced Jordan. Talk about a blast from the past. I hadn’t been called that since tenth grade.
“You didn’t read the info page either,” he pointed out.
I scratched my forehead. “Rewind first, boy. What did you call me?”
He immediately started fidgeting, and if the club hadn’t glowed red from the spotlights, I was sure I would’ve seen a blush too.
“I-I think you heard me, Sir.” He tried to act confident.
“I did.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I just wanna see if you have the balls to repeat yourself.”
This was it. I was realizing that his assertiveness and occasional cocky attitude came from the switch in him, and it was also dawning on me what a winning lottery ticket he was. Not only was I getting a submissive Little, but I was also getting a feisty young man who was used to being in control. Including being the one who pushed buttons and tested limits.
He could test those limits all over me, and I’d serve him the consequences on a fucking platter.
He toed the floor and went for innocence. “Isn’t it more important that I’m cute?”
I chuckled through my nose.
Nate cleared his throat. “James and I will be back with drinks. Good luck, Jordan.”
“Heh.” Jordan rubbed the back of his neck.
I nodded for him to follow me, because I didn’t wanna lose those seats over there. The seating area was mostly chairs, but some low tables had couches instead, and I wanted to snag the last two.
“You haven’t safeworded, so I hope I haven’t crossed a line,” he said. “You know your safewords, right?”
I side-eyed him. “We went through them fifteen minutes ago.”
“Right. Yeah. Just checking.”
He was more than checking. He was struggling to let go.
“Allow me to just check too,” I said, gesturing for him to take the other couch while I sat down on the closest. “You’re a masochist, Jordan. I’m a Sadist. You’ve been very clear on the fact that you get the best mental releases from pain. Pain also fuels you, you’ve said. It makes you angry and fight back until there’s no fight left.”
He nodded hesitantly. “I feel like you’re building up to something here.”
“You’re sharp.” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my thighs, and I clasped my hands casually. “So I’ll ask again. What did you call me earlier?”
He bit his lip. “I have a better question—”
“No, you don’t.” I felt my jaw tick, and I stared at him.
“Gosh.” He shifted in his seat. “Like a cute noodle, I’m trying to wriggle myself out of this situation.”
“How’s that going for you?”
He tipped his hand in a silent so-so.
I waited him out.
He was stubborn, I could give him that.
Even better for me. “I like ’em feisty” would be engraved on my headstone.
“Is this where you go fetch floggers and shackles to put me in my place?” he asked.
“Why would I fetch a flogger? You’re not getting a reward.”
There it was, the yikes-face. He hid it quickly, though.