Chapter 8

Lids dropping, then raising to half-mast, Dallas looked at him with that same lazy promise in his eyes that he’d had in the bar. The moment drew out and the man said nothing, did nothing. He blinked, and the look disappeared like a soap bubble in overzealous hands. Sitting forward, he considered the tequila bottle and pushed it away. “I hope you get that restaurant. Actually, I know you will.”

“Thank you.” Keiran wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “You know…since you’ve gotta stay while the gangs are hanging around after…” He cleared his throat. “This sofa’s comfortable enough to watch TV, but it’s hell to sleep on. I tried the first night I was off bed rest, because I could still smell the medical scents in the bedroom and… But Garet fixed everything up so it’s all fresh. He’s fucking awesome at taking care of the little things, you know? I think it got his mind off of his own problems.”

Elbows on his knees, Dallas turned his head to take Keiran in and raised one brow. “You did hear me say he’d applied as a sub, right?”

“Yes…” Keiran frowned. Shook his head and snickered. “Oh, it’s not like that. He’s a good guy. A friend. I’m just saying he made the room comfortable if you wanted to use it.”

Something like relief ghosted Dallas’s eyes before he stood. “You’ll be using it tonight, cupcake.” He paused, lips twitching as though the endearment had been a slip, then shook his head. His small smile didn’t hide the exhaustion and sadness seeping back into his expression. “Very considerate of you, but I won’t have you sleeping on the very sofa you don’t think is good enough for me. I’ve got it covered.”

Maybe Keiran should just let him go, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Dallas being alone tonight. Unless… He rolled his eyes at himself. There were other lofts. Other beds the man could find comfort in. It was Keiran’s own damn fault he’d feel more welcome pretty much anywhere else.

“I never said I’d be sleeping on the sofa.” Keiran unfolded his legs and rose, shrugging as though not the least bit concerned about whatever Dallas decided to do. Slipping by, close enough to brush against him, he spoke softly. “But if you’ve got a better offer, sir, by all means, take it.”

Dallas’s arm blocked Keiran before he could pass. He gave him a dark look as he wrapped his hand around Keiran’s hip. “Don’t play with me, sub. You made it clear you’d prefer friendship between us. Which I respect, but I’m no saint. If I’m in your bed, neither of us will be getting much sleep.”

The heat of Dallas’s touch, his thumb brushing over the bare skin above the waistband of Keiran’s jeans, made it difficult to come up with the right response. He wanted Dallas, but not just for some shallow sex before the man wrote him off as yet another easy lay.

He wanted him as a Dom. At least once. Once while he’d still look at Keiran the way he was now, the haunted shadow of pain slipping from his gaze as he waited for Keiran’s response. That would change if Keiran told him what he had every past lover, before setting out to fulfill their needs while being treated like the fantasy he played out for them on screen. Maxime had been different, for a while, but he had a feeling one night with Dallas would put all those he’d had with his ex to shame.

You’re going to regret this.

Probably, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not tonight. Fooling himself into believing there could be more than one night wouldn’t lead anywhere good, and Dallas had been pretty damn clear about that. But he’d seemed jealous of Avery’s friendly touches. Of the idea of another Dom training Keiran. Which was confusing as hell, because rather than offering to train him himself, he’d suggested...Rhodey. Of all people.

Frustrated, he jutted his chin up and met Dallas’s eyes. “Friends fuck sometimes, don’t they? Is there a special way I should be issuing the fucking invitation, sir?”

“Not. Like. That.” Dallas clucked his tongue, the edge to his voice sending a sliver of ice down Keiran’s spine. He held out his arm, gesturing for Keiran to lead the way. His gaze made it clear Keiran would be walking into something not entirely pleasant. “You were warned about this, pet. But maybe it’s a good thing it’s me you decided to test and not one of the Doms in the bar.”

That the second endearment wasn’t followed by the disquiet of the first gave Keiran some hope that his reckless move might have been the right one after all, but a little voice in the back of his mind whispered frantically for him to tread carefully. He made his way to the master bedroom, which Garet had given him because, as he’d bluntly put it, “I’m not sleeping in a bed my brother fucked in.”

Which had confused him at first, since this had once been Curtis’s loft. The confusion didn’t last after Curtis whispered something in Matt’s ear one morning that had heat filling the man’s gaze, all while Lawson sat at the end of the bar, completely unbothered.

Standing in the center of the room, he startled when Dallas shut the door, then snapped his fingers. “Undress. I’d teach you the hand signal, but one lesson at a time.”

Keiran’s eyes widened. “You expect me to strip, just like that?”

“Yes.” Dallas folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the door, one brow arched. “Unless Lawson was wrong about you being submissive. You’re not off to a very good start.”

Shame made it hard to swallow. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d gotten exactly what he’d been asking for. Dallas had slid into his role as a Dom. Not an act, his whole demeanor held the same aura of power Keiran had sensed in the other Doms. Had sensed in Dallas that first day.

But part of him was afraid to make things too easy. Once the man knew he was a porn star, he’d look back at this moment and laugh. Hell, it was surprising he wasn’t laughing already since he knew Keiran was a stripper. Taking his clothes off was his job.

Why did it make him feel so much more vulnerable doing it in front of Dallas?

He brought his fingers to the buttons of his shirt, hands shaking, and began to undo them. If he’d been trying to seduce the man, he could make this much sexier, but the urge fled as he tried to guess what a punishment from Dallas might be like. Whether or not he wanted it to be real.

Except...he wanted it all to be real. He’d just chosen the wrong way to go about it. He set his shirt on the dresser, pulled off his jeans, his boxers and socks, and finally met Dallas’s eyes. “I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or pushy.”

Dallas inclined his head. “What were you trying to do?”

The only way to answer that was with the truth. His cheeks heated as Dallas’s gaze swept over him, no lust in them. It was almost as though he’d shut that down the moment Keiran crossed the line. He hugged himself, lowering his eyes. “I wanted you to stay. And I wanted you to see me as a sub.”

“And treat you as one.” Dallas nodded slowly. “I only sleep with men in the lifestyle, Keiran. I know what you need, that wouldn’t have been an issue.” He pushed away from the door, coming closer to Keiran and cupping his cheek in his warm, calloused palm. “Next time you want something from a Dom, simply ask. If you insist on being a brat, you may not like the results.”

“Like now?”

The edge of Dallas’s lips thinned, as though he’d weighed how to handle Keiran and the conclusion wasn’t at all what he’d rather be doing with him. “Unfortunately, yes. You’re not enjoying yourself very much, are you?”

“No.” He tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, understanding why some of the other subs did so when they disappointed their Doms. Dallas wasn’t his Dom, but displeasing him didn’t feel good. “And neither are you.”

“You’re right. I don’t enjoy punishing subs who act out for attention, and it wasn’t something I thought I’d have to do with you.” He let out a heavy sigh. “But it is what it is.” He moved away from Keiran and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

When Keiran was within reach, Dallas latched onto his wrist and pulled him over his lap. The first smack on his bare ass came without warning. The next registered before Keiran’s brain caught up, and he hissed in a breath at the sting. Tears wet his lashes, but he relaxed as much as possible, doing the only thing he could to show Dallas he’d accept the punishment he’d earned. That he wasn’t completely incapable of learning from his mistakes.

After twelve solid slaps across increasingly smarting skin, he began to shift, wishing he had some idea of when this would end. Was Dallas that mad at him? Should he ask?

He bit into his cheek, sniffing as he tried to choke back a cry at a particularly hard smack. “I’m sorry. F—”

Another smack cut off the word. “You’re already getting five for every curse, pet. Let’s not add more.”

Keiran stilled. Shook his head. “Five? But I only swore once.”

“Did you, azúcar?” Dallas ran his hand over his ass. “There are other Doms in this club who speak Spanish. You won’t try to use that as a loophole again.”

Oh...shit. “You knew the whole time?”

“Mhm.” Dallas’s hand left him briefly. “For future notice, it hurts more when there’s a pause. You’ll want to avoid that.”