Call On Me. Roni Loren

      Pike propped his feet on the coffee table and tried to concentrate on what Gibson and Foster were discussing. His two friends had shown up at Pike’s place after the show with takeout and his favorite beer. A Rangers game was on the TV, but Pike had barely glanced at it. All he could focus on was the damn clock. Was Oakley getting his messages? Would she follow them?

      “So she thought his name was Spike!” Gibson concluded, his triumphant voice breaking Pike from his obsessing for a moment.

      Foster laughed and peered over at Pike. “Wow. That’s a new one. Remember that chick who kept getting our names mixed up and finally just gave up and called us both sir? I thought that was bad.”

      Pike took a sip of his beer and smirked. “Not her fault. She barely knew her own name by the end of that night. I blame you and that flogger.”

      Foster smiled, unrepentant. “Subspace is a beautiful thing, my friend.”

      “Yeah, it is. You don’t miss that life?” Gibson asked Foster. “You two had a pretty good setup going.”

      Foster leaned back, blue eyes crinkling. “Nah. Those days were fun at the time, but they’re nothing compared to what I have with Cela. Having someone play submissive to you for a night is one thing, but having the woman I love surrender all to me?” He shook his head. “Fuck, I can’t even tell you what that’s like. That absolute trust. It’s like the scariest and hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. You can’t get to that place with someone you’re just scening with for the night.”

      Gibson frowned. “I’m not sure I’d want that much trust from someone, that kind of responsibility. I just like having a good time. That level seems … heavy.”

      “It is.” Foster shrugged. “But it’s the ultimate drug. At least for a dom.”

      Pike watched Gibson’s expression change, the downshift, the doors closing. He should ignore it. He didn’t. “Maybe you just don’t see it that way because the dominant thing isn’t really your drink of choice, Gib.”

      Gibson shot him a murderous look.

      But Pike had a few beers in him and wasn’t in the mood to play nice, especially after Gib had taken so much glee in telling the Spike story. “Whatever happened to that chick you were subbing for—Sam? Wasn’t she Tessa’s friend?”

      “I wasn’t subbing for her. I was helping her with her training.”

      “To be a domme,” Pike clarified.

      “I was teaching her how to top.” Gibson’s jaw flexed and he ran a hand over his dark, curly hair. “And it didn’t go further than that. We didn’t hook up. She needed a real bottom.”

      “Mmm,” Pike said noncommittally, which, based on Gibson’s expression, pissed his friend off even more.

      “Nothing wrong with switching,” Foster said, either oblivious to Gib’s tension or ignoring it. He reached over to scratch a napping Monty on the head. “Or bottoming. That girl you were with was a firecracker. I saw her at The Ranch the other day. She’s been topping Julian.”

      “Julian?” Gibson looked like he could gnash rocks with his teeth. He gulped his beer instead. “Fantastic.”

      Pike shook his head, but before he could annoy his friend more, his phone beeped. He’d included himself on the appointments he’d made for Oakley. He reached forward to grab his cell but Gibson swiped it off the coffee table first.

      “Let’s see what’s going on in Pike world.”

      “What the fuck, man?” Pike stretched toward Gib. “Give me that.”

      “Are we keeping you from something? All this beeping. Sounds like you’re real busy,” Gib said, mischief in his eyes, revenge in his grasp.

      Pike pushed himself off the couch to go for the phone but Gibson was already reading the screen. “‘Get out of the bath and put on something sexy. Allotted time: ten minutes.’”

      “Give me the goddamned phone.” He yanked it from Gib’s hand.

      Gib was already laughing. “What the hell? You reminding yourself to get pretty for us tonight?”

      Pike flipped him off and sat on the arm of the couch.

      “Or wait,” Gibson said, eyes alight. “Maybe all this talk of subbing is because you’re the one answering to a domme this evening.”

      “Fuck off, Gib. Unlike some people, I’ve got no hang-ups about playing on that side if I get the itch.”

      “No,” Foster said, leaning forward, shit-eating grin on his face. “That’s not it. You’ve been distracted all night. You’re the one telling someone else to do that, aren’t you?”

      Pike didn’t respond.

      “Is it that woman we saw at Wicked?”

      “Wait, what woman?” Gib asked.

      Foster’s smile went smug. “Pike’s got the hots for a mom at Bluebonnet Place. Sent her a big box of sex toys for a how-ya-doin’ gift.”

      “Wait, what? You’re sleeping with someone who works for Tessa? Dude. Not cool.”

      Pike scowled. “Hey, weren’t you the one who told me to find a normal woman?”

      Gibson gave him the are-you-kidding-me glare. “Not one at the charity, idiot. I told Kade you’d be—”

      “Look, I’m not sleeping with her, all right? Haven’t even kissed her. I’m just …”

      “Telling her what to do and when to do it,” Foster said, his mouth tilting up at the corner. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

      He didn’t either. Though he’d topped women at The Ranch on occasion, it was all just fun and games, not the real dominance people like Foster wielded in the bedroom. That always seemed like too much work. Why waste all the energy on building trust with someone you’d only be with one night? But he couldn’t deny that the thought of Oakley doing exactly as he instructed had left him fighting a hard-on all night. “I have my moments.”