Melbourne Heat (9 page)

“I can definitely get on board with that.” Charles’ tone was deep.

Spencer shivered. It did something to his spine, sank in his gut.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend to be sweetness and light for you. I enjoyed pushing your boundaries the other night, and I’ll probably continue to do so. It’s who I am.”

Spencer grinned, turned on and intrigued at the same time.

“I can take you,” he said with more cocky attitude than he really felt. “Bring it on, Charles. If you were some meek little pansy I bet I wouldn’t be so attracted to you. I’m a big boy. Do your best.”

“Oh I will,” Charles laughed. His tone deepened even more. Spencer figured he wasn’t the only one who had a warm twitching in his crotch right now. “I’ll see you tonight, Spence.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied.

They both hung up. Spencer blew out a big breath and replaced his phone into his pocket. He glanced at his computer, his concentration destroyed again. His phone vibrated and pinged with a received text message. He pulled it out far enough to read the message.

Lygon Charcoal Grill, 7pm. Reservation under Charles.

Spencer pushed his phone back and sat up straight in his chair. His fingers hovered over the keyboard then he grabbed his calculator again.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * * *

Over the years, Spencer reckoned, he’d eaten at most of the restaurants lining up and down this street. Somehow, Lygon Charcoal Grill had been overlooked. Since literally every store was a restaurant of some sort, anywhere that didn’t serve amazing food didn’t last very long at all. So Spencer knew it would be fantastic and he was looking forward to it.

He arrived almost spot on time, just a couple of minutes early. It had taken him a lot of effort not to call Charles both last night and through the day. The more Spencer had thought about everything he’d seen and learned, the more questions he’d had. It was a bit mortifying, but Spencer had even finished writing a whole bunch out in a notebook, just to stop them running around in circles in his head.

Around eleven last night, when he’d been struggling to sleep for almost an hour, he’d given up. Curling up on the couch with pen and paper, he’d written everything out in a complete jumble. There was no thought to reason or coherence, just a purging of words, doubts, thoughts and questions.

The more he’d written, as pages slowly filled, Spencer had really started to feel better. Sure, he still had the questions, writing them out didn’t give him any magical answers, but it helped him order his thoughts. And by putting them into words in front of his eyes, there was no longer a chance he could forget any of it.

That ease of pressure, subconscious as it had been, had helped him at least temporarily let go. The urgency was no longer there. Spencer had no idea if he’d ask all these questions any time soon, but they were physically manifested now, so if he wanted to get answers from Charles, he could. He’d still slept fitfully, but he had managed to get a decent few hours in before his alarm had gone off that morning.

Mostly his concern related around Charles’ other side. Were there more shifters—or werewolves, what did they call themselves after all?—out there. Did they have a structure and hierarchy? Did they have to change at the full moon, even though they could control the change themselves? How the hell did they stay under the radar? Australia was not like America or Europe. There were plenty of dead spots phone service wise, and particularly the more outback you got, the more people respected others being strange and private.

Still, even in the middle of bloody nowhere plenty of people had Internet, phones and Instagram. It wasn’t like a bunch of werewolves doing odd ritualistic things would go uncommented upon and not end up splashed across the world via Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr. Australia wasn’t
that
backward.

And Melbourne was a main hub, the capital of the state of Victoria. Four and a half million people and growing. The Botanical Gardens, no less, were not a place of secrecy. A wolf running around would not just make the news, but reach YouTube before Animal Control had been called in. Or the zoo.

So yeah, Spencer had questions.

A lot of them.

He entered the restaurant and was greeted promptly.

“Table for two under the name Charles, please?” Spencer said. He glanced around, expecting to catch sight of Charles and walk over. Frowning, he was a little surprised not to see him.

“Yes, sir, and your name?”

A little perplexed, Spencer still replied automatically.

“Spencer Dowell.”

“Ah yes, this way please,” the maître d’ said when he’d checked something in his book. He collected two menus and wound his way through the tables.

When Spencer was waved to an empty table near the back with two place settings, he hid his surprise. He wondered if something had held Charles up. The maître d’ gave him a menu, placed the other on Charles’ spot and walked away. Spencer looked at his phone to check if Charles had left a message about being late.

Nope.

Spencer opened the menu and had only started to cast his eye down the food when the maître d’ returned. The tall man held a small package, a bit bigger than a jeweler’s ring box.

“This was delivered earlier today for you, sir,” he said and handed it over.

Even more surprised now, Spencer gaped as the man left again. Sure enough, his name was written on an envelope attached to the box. Equal parts nervous and excited, Spencer felt off balance. What the hell was going on and where was Charles? Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to accept a gift when things were only partially resolved between them.

Then again, maybe that was the point of the gift. Maybe it was something Charles thought could bring them closer together, or be used as a learning tool.

Or maybe it’s an appetizer and I’m letting my imagination get away from me.

Spencer shook his head. Sitting here thinking about it would solve nothing. Just because he opened the box didn’t mean he had to accept whatever was inside if he wasn’t comfortable with it. Charles had been at great pains to point out the importance of free will. Spencer could make an intelligent decision after he knew what Charles had in mind.

Curious, Spencer opened the envelope and withdrew the sheet of paper.

Spencer, I’m hoping this can be a very special dinner between us. The first of many. With that in mind, I wanted to show you my thoughts on how a Dom can show control over his partner. If you’re willing to trust me, go to the men’s room and insert this. This is your choice—one I’ll always give you, and I’ll respect the outcome you choose. Charles.

His mouth had dried while reading the note. Spencer read the handwritten letter again, more slowly this time to make sure he interpreted the words and meaning correctly. Spencer licked his lips. He felt trepidation and turned on at the same time.

He was grateful that he hadn’t just blindly opened the box out here. There were a couple of things he could think of that might be nestled inside this package, and none of them was something he wanted to open out here in public. The manner in which Charles had written his message, though, indicated that he thought this could be kept private. ‘Insert’ was a very specific term, and kept the number of items it could be limited.

Spencer had been clear when he’d stated that he hated showcasing himself and his sexual preferences. Charles not only knew it, Spencer was certain he’d respect that.

Insert this.

The words reverberated in Spencer’s head.

Despite his trepidation, he couldn’t ignore it further. He had to at least try and go along with Charles’ plan. Curiosity alone would kill him if he just sat here, pondering and analyzing it to death.

Spencer picked up the gift and stood. He looked around the restaurant and found the discreet sign for the bathrooms. Every step seemed drawn out, as if the world was narrowing to the path he cut through the tables. Tiny beads of sweat dotted down his back and across his forehead.

He must be mad. A raving lunatic. He’d been down this road before and hated where he ended up.

Not quite like this.
His mind at least kept him honest.
There’s a big difference between testing the waters on a public stage in a sex club and playing discreetly with a toy in a restaurant. A toy that it seems will be inserted inside you. People don’t have X-ray vision. If you can keep control of yourself no one will be the wiser. You won’t be making a scene unless you choose to do so.

Spencer pushed open the door to the men’s room and entered. The urinals were empty and the stalls stood open. No one was here. Even so, Spencer went into a cubicle and closed himself in. For just a moment he stared at the box. It was innocuous enough, but he’d bet that was what Pandora had thought too, before unleashing something far beyond her control.

Now I’m just being a bloody chicken. And dramatic to boot. Open the damn thing.

Intrigued, Spencer wondered what Charles had in mind. Spencer lifted the black lid off and looked into the base of the box. Nestled among blood red tissue paper was a thumb-sized butt plug with a wide, flat base. His imagination had conjured far more exotic toys. Spencer found himself both relieved and slightly disappointed.

Having a plug up his arse was certain to keep the evening ticking along at a good pace. Past experience had Spencer knowing that the more he fidgeted and moved, the better the plug would feel. He loved that full, heavy weight in his arse, and it kept his cock at half-mast with delicious anticipation of what would follow.

And it was certainly something he could keep himself in check over. There’d be no embarrassing scenes. Not even close.

“Worrying about nothing, old boy,” he chastised himself in a soft tone. “You really need to find that set of balls you’re supposed to have. You’ll be turning into a shriveled-up old lady if you don’t learn to relax and live a bit.”

Still. It seemed a bit of a let-down. Charles had talked about his method of being a Dom, of controlling the situation and showing his mastery. Not in those words, but that’s what Spencer had read into it, at least. What was so bloody interesting about having a plug shoved up his rectum for a few hours while they ate a delicious steak dinner? It was naughty, sure, but rather tame compared to what Spencer had been expecting.

There was nothing to lose. Spencer reached into the box and pulled the device out. He frowned and weighed the plug in his palm. Narrowing his eyes, he studied it more carefully. It was quite heavy, considering the size of it. More than he’d expected. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, Spencer raised it closer to his eyes. He found a small lid that could flip open on the wide base. Raised lines showed which way to insert the batteries.

Batteries?

What the fuck?

Spencer’s heart pounded faster. He turned the toy over and around, checking it out thoroughly. There was no on-off switch, no way to control it. No power amplifier. No method for him to monitor or control the rate of vibration. And it was battery-operated, so it would certainly buzz.

A sneaking suspicion entered his mind. The only answer that made sense was that there’d be a remote control to make the plug work. And Spencer could guess who’d be holding that device.

He flushed, understanding the situation completely now.

They’d maintain privacy, sure. No one would be able to
see
that he had a thick plug shoved up his ass, humming, buzzing and vibrating away. Charles could ramp the vibrator up or down as the whim took him, and Spencer would be driven insensate from the delicious burning in his ass, possibly pressed against his prostate. No one would be able to tell.

Until he came, screaming, in his pants.

How a Dom can show control over his partner…

Yes, indeed, Charles was already a million times more intoxicating and sexually dominant than Spencer’s previous unfortunate attempt. And they’d been together less than two days.

If Spencer chose to wear this—
to insert it
—then Charles would pretty much have complete control over his body. Able to work him up or cool him down however he liked. Spencer didn’t think it was a hard decision, but it still took him a moment and a few deep breaths to convince himself to move his hands.

“This is what you’ve been searching for, what you wanted to try out for ages now. Are you really going to turn it down now it’s being offered?” Spencer reminded himself in a low whisper. He lifted the plug to his mouth and licked the toy, wetting it.

He unbuckled his pants with one hand and pushed his clothes down to his ankles. Spencer bent and he reached around to his arse. Spreading his cheeks wide, he breathed out, long, slow and deep. With his sphincter as relaxed as he could get it, nervous as he was, Spencer slowly inserted the plug.

The toy was only a little bigger than his thumb, but the tight ring of his muscles still fought against the intrusion. He needed to screw the plug around a bit, but it was soon fully inserted, thick and heavy in his ass. Spencer stood up and shifted his weight around a little, getting used to the feeling.

His ass felt stretched with pressure, full. He wondered if Charles had made a lucky or educated guess with the sizing of the toy. It was big, but not uncomfortably so. The plug was cold and silent, a weighted secret only he currently knew about, since Charles couldn’t possibly know yet what his choice had been.

Spencer got dressed again and exited the cubicle. Since the men’s room was still empty, he walked up and down the tiled floor, letting himself acclimate to the feel and pressure of his newly filled ass. His walk seemed a little stilted to him, his usual easy, fluid stride was off, but Spencer doubted anyone else could recognize that.

As ready as he’d ever be, Spencer placed the card in the pocket of his trousers and lowered the package on the side of the sink. He carefully washed his hands and dried them. After picking up the box, he lifted the lid back on. He checked himself once more in the mirror.