Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Hop and the others settled against the mirrored wall while Tam took his mark in the center of the floor. What came next was a shameless display of Tam’s brilliance. Hop was still catching his breath when the music stopped and the rest of them applauded.
Tam was such an amazingly creative choreographer, his talent astounded Hop. How could such a tiny person have so much awesome inside?
If Hop could have one-tenth of Tam’s genius, he’d be happy.
But he didn’t. What he did have, however, was determination. Even if it took him three times as many rehearsals as the others, he would nail this routine. He’d do whatever it took to show his friends that he could keep up with them.
Less than a minute later, after notes and comments, Tam was running them through the choreography count by count.
* * *
Worn out from a day of running on little sleep and physically exhausted from rehearsal, Hop entered the apartment he shared with his mother and dropped into the lumpy couch. His bags landed next to his feet on the floor with a thump.
“You got a package,” his mother called from somewhere down the hall.
“Me?”
“No, the Keebler elf. Did you buy something?”
“Not unless I blacked out after spending all my money again.” He’d gone on more than one shopping spree over the years, but he couldn’t remember doing it recently.
“It’s on the kitchen table.”
Great. That meant he had to get up. Grumbling, he unstrapped his heels and rose. The box wasn’t large. It was wrapped with black paper and there was an envelope on the top. He touched the shiny material cautiously.
“It arrived about an hour ago.” His mother was behind him, her warm presence usually a safety net, now only made him nervous.
“Arrived?” Not through the mail then? His suspicions grew.
“Some delivery man, dressed in a black suit.” They looked at the package together like it was an alien.
Hop was almost too scared to touch it.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
He couldn’t. Not in front of her, because he knew who it was from and there’d be no telling what was inside. He wouldn’t be able to explain why he was receiving such gifts. She’d jump to the wrong conclusion and he’d have to tell her the truth.
He picked up the box and tucked it under his arm, casually. “Oh! You know what? It’s a costume I bought for one of our performances coming up. I totally forgot we got them delivered overnight.” He gathered his belongings and went to his room.
Sitting on his bed, he gazed at the envelope and his name scrawled on the front. Carefully, he slid the note out. The paper was thick and felt expensive, but it was the words that made his heart race.
Do not open.
And then a Skype handle: SirWiseWolf and a time: 10:00 p.m.
The instructions couldn’t be clearer. He felt heat flush his cheeks even as his palms grew damp. All day he’d struggled with the compulsion to obey Rafe’s insane orders while at the same time loving every minute of his torture. His independent mind had taken a big hit, but here he was staring at those words and dying to give in to his base nature.
He wanted to be owned, to be safe.
It pissed him off how much he needed it, but the will to fight was weakening with every text and whisper. Rafe was showering his submissive spirit with everything he’d sought but never found. Giving in felt like he’d solved the Rubik’s Cube of life. He caressed the black paper as if it held the keys to paradise.
Curiosity chewed at his self-restraint. What could be in the box?
Something dirty.
Something devilish.
Something designed to tease him in the best possible way.
Whatever it was, Hop wasn’t sure he could wait until ten. That was almost five hours away, for crying out loud. Did Rafe expect him to be patient until then?
Yes.
Of course, he did. Rafe expected Hop to follow his every command without question. Why did that send a thrill through him? Fuck. Hop tugged on his hair, eying the black paper and the oblong box again. There was no use. He couldn’t guess what was inside no matter how long he looked. He’d have to wait. He set it aside and dug inside his bag until he found his phone.
Setting up his favorite playlist, he popped his earbuds in and got out his sketchbook. It’d been weeks since he’d opened it, but the lady on the bus had inspired him.
He took a moment to flip through the pages. It was covered with dozens of original Lovette designs. Sometimes he created for the Sassy Boyz too, all glitter and sparkles in fabrics that would stretch enough to be practical for dancing.
A long time ago he’d dreamed of going to fashion design school. That fantasy died right around the time he’d landed in the hospital along with his ridiculous notion that deep down, his father cared for him.