“Hunter, did you rent a sex dungeon?” Drake asks, and my cheeks instantly flush bright red at the sight. And at the very same time, my thighs clench together at the realization that I’m spending the next two nights here…with those two men.
“Dungeon?” I ask, meeting them in the living room. “It doesn’t look like a dungeon. It’s so pretty.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” Hunter replies, once he’s stopped laughing. He rises from the couch and approaches me with a hand around my waist. “I couldn’t help myself. I saw the listing and figured this might be good for business…research.”
“Research,” I echo him with a quizzical smile.
“Aw, you guys have a swing!” Drake calls out from the master bedroom, and I quickly jolt down the hall to see. There is a large black sex swing dangling in the middle of the room. There’s also a St. Andrew’s cross mounted to the wall and a small seat in the corner with a hole in it.
Suddenly, I’m noticing things about this apartment I didn’t notice when we walked in. The chaise lounge in the living room clearly wasn’t made for reading in, and the fancy hooks on the walls aren’t decorative.
Salacious has only been open for a few months now and not much can make me blush anymore, but suddenly standing in a quiet room with these two…my blood might as well be boiling.
The three of us stand together in silence, gawking at the well-stocked and expertly-designed sex dungeon, and it all feels a little too much.
“What are the chances we can get some food…and maybe some alcohol, before we start…researching?” I ask, and Hunter replies with a smile. Pulling me against his chest, he kisses my temple.
“Let’s get some dinner, Red. You’ll need the energy later.”
We send Drake for takeout, and Hunter falls asleep on the couch, which it turns out is just a regular one, no sexual modifications. I busy myself with poking around the apartment. I didn’t even know kinky Airbnbs existed. I can already see a Salacious BnB in the company’s future. A whole kinky resort full of rooms like these, where couples can come for a week, instead of an hour.
I’m in the middle of browsing through the various ropes they have in the drawer when the front door opens. I smell the Indian food in Drake’s arms before he even sets it down on the table. There’s another bag in his hand that looks suspiciously like booze.
“I’m starving,” I say as I open the bag of warm, delicious smelling takeout.
“There’s three boxes. Just don’t take the one with the X on it,” he replies as he fishes out a bottle of tequila and a bottle of green margarita mix.
“Margarita mix?” I ask with a laugh.
“You don’t like it straight. Is this not okay?” he replies, reading the bottle. “It’s organic.”
I fight back a grin as I take the bottle. “You got this for me?”
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “Hunt and I will just have a couple shots.”
“Thank you,” I reply, trying to hide the sudden blush rising to my cheeks. Has Drake done stuff like this for me before? Am I just now noticing how considerate he is?
Whatever it is, it feels nice.
With a shameless smirk on my face, I make myself a margarita on ice, using the mix Drake picked up for me. Then, I grab a white Styrofoam container and a fork and start to dig in. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and this curry smells divine.
But I don’t even get the rice-covered forkful to my mouth before Drake is snatching it out of my hands. Rice flies all over the counter, and I gawk up at him in shock.
“What the hell was that for?” I shout.
“I said not the box with the X!” he replies angrily.
“Geez, I’m sorry,” I stammer, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He’s never really yelled at me before and that happy grin I was wearing a moment ago has melted away. Behind me, I hear Hunter stirring from the couch.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Iz, it has coconut milk in it,” Drake says.
And instantly I pause, mid-reach to the non-X marked box. My eyes drift upward to Drake’s.
“How did you know I have a coconut allergy?”
His expression morphs into a look like I’ve offended him. “I’ve always known. You told me that like the first time we ate together. I had to stop ordering the coconut cream pie from the diner because you would always steal the crust. Did you really think I forgot about that?”