Whipped (Hitched, #2)

It does nothing for me.

The ache is still there. I want something. But not this. And not those guys fucking that girl. And certainly not my sexy new roommate. But something.

I half-consider calling Chad, but it's a thought that ends before it's fully formed. He deserves more than a booty call and I can't give him more.

If I hook up with anyone here, I know how the night will play out. A little kink, a good fuck and I'll go home alone. I could get myself off without all this effort.

I've had too much of this, and realize I'm no longer in the mood. It's why I haven't been here in a while. Why I was ready to give up my work as a Dom, even though I never got sexual with clients. Why I knew it was time for a change. For Whipped. For… something more in my personal life.

I could have had that something more with Chad. He was the perfect sub and a great guy. Gorgeous, talented, my friends liked him. We even played house for a brief moment. But… it wasn't right.

Now, I don't even know what I'm looking for.

I ditch my plans for a night of nothing and head home, ready to strip off the tight clothes and leather accessories and just relax.

But I'm surprised to find Lachlan home. For some reason, I expected him to be out partying or something. I'm even more surprised when he holds out a bag with a bow on it when I walk in the door.

"My white flag," he says by way of explanation.

I accept it and pull out the contents. It's a new jug of milk. I smile at him, genuinely grateful for this kindness. It means coffee in the morning. "Thank you. I appreciate this."

I stick it in the fridge and lean against the counter, looking more closely at him. His eyes are still a bit bloodshot and he's rubbing the back of his neck. Last night must have been rough on him. "Still hungover, huh?"

He cocks his head. "Yeah. I got a bit fucked up. Something about a bottle or two of rum… it's a bit murky after that."

I laugh as I move through the kitchen collecting ingredients for my famous hangover cure. "I bet. Rum is a sneaky bitch, no doubt."

"That she is." He eyes my assortment of foods suspiciously. "What are you making?"

"Your savior. Avert your eyes, this is a closely held family recipe that none but our kin are privy to."

He turns away as I add things to the blender and hit the button, causing him to flinch from the noise. When I'm done, I hand him a glass filled to the brim with a thick greenish brown sludge. "Drink it all. Every last drop. You'll thank me after."

"If I'm not dead," he says, his accent lingering over the words.

He chugs it all, and I give him props for keeping it down. Not everyone does. I count to ten in my mind and see the moment it starts affecting him.

His grin widens, spreading to his eyes. "That's amazing. You're a witch. A beautiful, brilliant, mad witch. I think I might be in love."

"Settle down, cowboy, it's just a drink, not a proposal. But I'm glad it helped."

"Me, too. I'm working tonight, and you just saved my ass."

Of course I have to look at said ass as he walks into the living room, and I pat myself on the back for saving something so very perfect.

"What do you do?" I ask to keep my mind off his body parts.

He grins that infuriating tease of a grin. "You should come and see. 10pm. Bring your friends. Do you still have the cards I gave you?"

I hang my head in shame. "No."

He laughs and hands me a few more.

The cards are thick, quality and my curiosity is definitely piqued. "Are you like a musician or something?"

"If you're wondering if I'm good with my hands…"

"No. I'm not wondering." Not even a little. But his hands are big.

God.

He winks at me, grabs his keys and kisses my cheek. "Thanks for the hangover cure. I owe you. Have a great night. I won't be back ‘til morning."

He leaves me standing there, his kiss still burning my cheek and sending warmth through my body as I consider what I will do the rest of the evening.

I wander to the kitchen table and piece together a few bits of the puzzle. There are times I can get lost in this, in the intricate shapes and the way only certain pieces fit together. You can't force a piece to fit. Some come close, and might look good initially, but if it isn't a perfect match the bigger picture will be ruined.

Tonight, however, the puzzle isn't holding my attention.

I consider cleaning the apartment. It's already a mess again. I pick up a few dishes and put them in the sink, but that's as far as I get. Cleaning isn't really my favorite thing in the world.

I could read, but I'm in between books and don't have the energy to dive into something new.

Damn Lachlan. He's distracting me, and I don't like being distracted.