She eyed all of us as she always did, but didn’t comment on the music.
“Morning, all,” she said in her usual flat tone. Everyone murmured a similar response, and she went on, “Scott, Calvin, I need an ETA on the drawings for the Southgate Community Center expansion.”
Scott cleared his throat. “I have to look over a few of the specs again, but I’ll e-mail you as soon as I can.” He swallowed. “Will that work?”
“As soon as possible, please,” she said dryly. “Teagan, when will the Borden Mall be ready?” She nodded at the model in front of Teagan, then eyed her.
“I had some problems with the cement reacting to the new foam-core we’re using, so—”
“When will it be done?”
“I can have it to you by Friday,” Teagan said through her teeth.
“Please do. Jon, what about the Rainier house?”
I muffled a cough and gestured at the mostly complete model in front of me. “I should have it done by the end of the day.”
“Good. And remember we have a meeting with Horizon today too.”
Normally, I’d have cringed and ground my teeth at the prospect of a meeting taking up what little time I had to finish a model. Not today. My mind went straight into the pants of Horizon Developing’s CEO, and the thought of him struggling with that cock cage gave me goose bumps.
Oh, I’d have an update for him. And he’d have one for me too.
For once in my life, I couldn’t wait for a meeting to start.
Chapter Thirteen
During meetings, I usually struggled to stay focused. Sitting there listening to people drone on was Geneva Convention-level torture. Today, the struggle was to keep a straight face.
From the moment Teagan and I had taken our seats, I’d been restless with anticipation. Then Rick had come into the room along with Dion and Mitchell. His eyes had shifted straight to me, and suddenly I was pretty sure my trousers were almost as uncomfortable as his. That look on his face. My God. Intense. Focused. Like he’d spent all morning talking himself through every minute, reminding himself this was only temporary. I wondered how many times he’d considered texting me the safe word, or if he’d just closed his eyes, breathed and told himself it would be over soon.
I watched him for a moment, wondering how much of his expression was latent arousal. A sign of that feeling that could simmer beneath the surface for hours, even days leading up to something hot and exciting. Like he wasn’t turned on yet, but knew he would be in a few hours, and that, by extension, turned him on enough to make him squirm.
Or maybe he was one of those guys who was turned on by the torment. He wasn’t a masochist per se, but wearing that device was a constant reminder of who was in charge. I’d worn one before so I’d know how it felt, and it wasn’t something that could be ignored. It was always there. Always, at the very least, nudging the outermost edges of awareness, like an itchy cast that you’ve just learned to live with.
Beneath the table, I dug my heel into my other foot just to center myself and draw my focus away from Rick. Having him wear the cage to work had seemed like a good idea at the time—a tortured sub was a hot sub—but perhaps I’d underestimated how much it would fuck up my brain to sit through a meeting with him like this.
While everyone else had chattered, flipped through documents, checked the PowerPoint connection and topped off coffee, he stayed back, listening intently, but quiet. His eyes darted toward me a few times, and despite his obvious discomfort, he had to look away and smother a laugh. So did I.
Teagan elbowed me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” I cleared my throat and tapped my pen on the binder in front of me. “Just…nothing.”
“Mmhmm. You’re—”
“All right,” Mitchell said, silencing everyone. “I think we’re ready to get started?” He looked at Dion and Rick, who both nodded.
Teagan shot me a look. This isn’t over.
Everyone took their seats, which was a much more difficult process for Rick than the rest of us. He hid it well. To the untrained eye, he probably just had a sore back or some stiff muscles. Maybe a rough night at the gym or feeling his age a little more than usual. There was nothing to indicate that he had a series of steel rings encircling his cock, all held together by a strap that wound around his balls too.
This was going to be a long meeting. And a long afternoon.
And a long, long night.
As subtly as I could, I took and released a deep breath. I willed my heart to slow down. And my cock…fuck…
Baseball. Old Yeller. Food poisoning.
Okay. That was helping. Just had to keep thinking about anything that wasn’t a turn-on, and—
I let my gaze drift toward Rick, and no amount of unpleasant thoughts could turn me off.