Hostile Takeover (The Game, #8)

by Cara Dee

I let my brain drown in the sheer chaos of finding out that my aunt was getting a divorce from the love of my life. And he was suddenly gay? Nope, zero understanding. It didn’t compute.

“Because from where I’m standing, you might be happier in DC where you could possibly pursue someone who’s apparently gay.”

I, personally, loved the discreet encounters where I was Kingsley and Tate’s humiliation whore, but that was another story.

Kingsley said he got off on the contrasts of a man who looked like he owned the world but submitted like a cock-hungry whore. I was that cock-hungry whore.

And Tate was…pure filth. A sadistic little Dominant who called me Daddy before rubbing my face in my own come.

To this day, I didn’t understand how Noa and I had formed our friendship. As with the others, it was new. I was new to their kinky world. Everything was new. And there he was, Noa Hayles, approximately five feet tall, some twenty-five years younger than me, very much devoted to not only his Daddy Dom but also his Master and a boyfriend, and… I couldn’t describe it, but I enjoyed our banter very much. We flirted innocently—with permission from his indecently handsome Owners, of course. He just…made me smile a whole lot.

It was settled. In Kingsley’s words, “It’s a date.” I’d attend a punk rock show on Wednesday with my new kinky friends. How my life had changed.

It was in his eyes. The “it factor.” His deep blue-gray eyes caught everything. The charisma was a filter on top of it all, and that was how he could capture the attention of everyone around him. Along with two faint dimples that appeared when he smiled.

He smirked faintly and handed me the wine list. “I’ll be here for as long as it takes.”

“Fuck me, Gramps,” Noa moaned. I shuddered violently. “I’ll fuck you.” I’ll bury my cock so deep inside your ass you’ll taste it, sweet boy.

Watch me be a good whore Daddy for you, Jackson.

To the sound of Tate hissing and crying out in pain, I just stood there and hugged Jack as hard as I could. Clearly, we were both discovering new things about each other and, more importantly, ourselves tonight. For instance, maybe we didn’t play separately so much.

I wanted the spontaneous playtime, the involvement of strangers, the mindfucks, the emotional masochism, and the outside play partners. But hell, it had to be organized. Structured. And just like Lily needed her room to be her safe space, I needed my dynamic with Jack to be set in stone so I could appreciate the chaos. In just a week, Jack had become that foundation of comfort I needed.

Pardon me, my love, I’m just trying to figure out how to make you spend the rest of your life with me and maybe without causing mayhem in the Dune family.