Melissa made a noncommittal noise, making it obvious she was closer to sleep than alertness. Danny rolled off the mattress, feeling tense and angry because he couldn’t protect Denise and Melissa from a cruel, homophobic world. Instead he found himself searching for something he had been avoiding for two long weeks, ever since he’d first noticed Paul’s arm carved up in a way that made it obvious someone was using him for sadistic recreation.
With his fishing lantern for light, he sat on the floor of his bedroom closet with the door closed and a cigarette between his lips. The smoke stung his eyes as he searched through boxes. He put out one cigarette and lit another before he found what he was looking for, pulling an envelope out from under a stack of fishing and rodeo magazines. It looked like a wedding invitation, with the gold, embossed writing and finely leafed borders, but it was actually something much different.
Danny sat there staring at the card under the orange haze from the fishing lantern. The name Arty Rossi glared back at him in silent challenge from the laminated paper. He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray next to him as he considered the invitation, an open one that boasted invite-only parties two weekends a month at Arty’s large estate hidden in a wooded lot on the outskirts of Tampa.
The very last place in the world Danny wanted to go was one of Arty’s parties. He thought he was a pretty open-minded guy sexually, considering he’d known he was bisexual since seventh grade when girls weren’t the only ones he was kissing behind the bleachers, but Arty turned out to be a bit too much for Danny to take.
A business associate of Tony’s, if one would call what Tony did business, Arty was a man who didn’t mind advertising his unique tastes, especially to Tony, who was gay, and, in turn, to Danny, who was fucking him. Apparently liking cock made them fellow sexual deviants.
The stuff Arty talked about made Danny blush, and there wasn’t much that got under his skin and made him flustered. The idea of Paul going to a known member of the mafia’s house for bondage and leather get-togethers was ludicrous. Danny wouldn’t even be considering it if Tony’s claims hadn’t planted the seeds of doubt in his mind. Even then he might have let it go, thinking there was some other golden god getting freaky with high-class pussy if it weren’t for Paul’s strange behavior of late.
Danny was tired of feeling powerless. He couldn’t protect Melissa and Denise from a world that wanted to hurt them just for falling in love, but he could sure as shit figure out what was going on with Paul—because not knowing was killing him.
He put out his cigarette, still staring at the invitation. Danny was going to end up at a BDSM party he’d never planned on attending when the envelope had been handed to him. Finally making the decision didn’t give him peace of mind and he gave up on the notion of sleep as he sat there in the orange-tinted darkness of his closet, hoping his suspicions were wrong.
Chapter Three
“You want to safe word, don’t you, handsome?”
Paul blinked, seeing dark eyeliner and sexy red lipstick, his mind fuzzy to the point he could almost envision Eve in his mind’s eye. The woman in front of him had inky-black hair, but at this point in the evening it started to look red to him.
They all looked like Eve when he hit this place, the wall where pain and pleasure blended perfectly, making him completely euphoric. He closed his eyes, feeling himself sink deeper into the headspace, the fantasy etching itself more clearly in his mind.
If only he had known how much he enjoyed leather and high heels before Eve left. He was certain she would have worn them for him. God, the thought made him harder and he moaned audibly.
“Safe word for me,” she coaxed, the sear of pain tearing over Paul’s shoulder as she whispered in his ear. “You know you want to.”
“No.” Paul groaned, wishing for just a moment his hands weren’t cuffed behind his back because he’d really like to be jerking off right now. “God no,” he whispered, the unwanted image of his childhood popping up without his permission. Eighteen years of pretending and groveling to be released from pain just to please a father who would never be happy with him.
He opened his eyes, seeing Eve again, speaking to her with the voice of a man who trusted and loved her completely. “Please don’t make me safe word. I hate it. I hate it more than anything.”
“What do you want, baby?” Her dark eyes glazed over as she studied him. Crimson lips glistened under the flicker of candlelight as she licked them. Her breath was raspy with desire when she whispered, “You tell me and we’ll see what we can do.”