by Lynn Lorenz
He certainly deserved a beating. Maybe even more. Sammi glanced toward the bedroom, thinking of Mitchell’s closet, and hugged himself. He’d take a beating over that, any day of the week.
What if Mitchell put him out, cast him aside, where would he go? It wouldn’t matter where he went, because he wouldn’t live long separated from his soul bond. He might not know much about this whole bonding thing, but he did know he’d never survive. Wouldn’t want to survive without Mitchell.
The thought of being back on the street, unprotected, hiding from Donovan and his thugs brought Sammi to tears. He knocked them back with a swipe of the back of his hand across his eyes.
The key scratched in the lock, the front door opened and Mitchell walked into the room. Their gazes met. Sammi sucked in his breath and reached for control. The shakes increased and the building terror overwhelmed him.
“I’m so sorry. I swear it will never happen again. Please.” Sammi lurched toward Mitchell. He fell to his knees, clutched Mitchell’s hands as he begged him. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t throw me out.”
Mitchell didn’t push him away or strike him. Without a word, Mitchell pulled Sammi up, gathered him into his arms and held him tightly. Mitchell played his lips against Sammi’s temple. Mitchell brushed aside Sammi’s bangs, tilting his head upward.
“Shh.” Mitchell crooned as if he comforted a child.
Mitchell kissed him so sweetly.
Dear God, how could he treat him like this, after what Sammi had done? Such a tender kiss, so filled with love. Sammi opened his soul and pulled in Mitchell’s emotions, letting them wash over him. Love, not hate or anger, filled Mitchell. Calming Sammi. Reassuring him.
Sammi let out his breath in a shudder, easing his arms around Mitchell’s waist.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Sammi. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Are you sure?” Sammi burrowed his face into Mitchell’s chest.
“It’s all right. I just have to talk to H.R. tomorrow morning.” Mitchell held him away and smiled at him. “Come on, it’s fine. Really.”
“Are you sure?” Sammi couldn’t believe it would be so easy, so simple.
“Sure.” Something about the edge on that word set Sammi’s senses off. He closed his eyes and let Mitchell’s emotions inside. Among the tenderness and love, fear and doubt lurked like shadows.
Mitchell was lying. Sammi also recognized concern and worry. “We’re together, remember? I can feel your emotions, and you can feel mine. That means you can’t lie to me. Ever.”
“I’m not sure what the hell is going on between us, but I do believe you can hear my thoughts, feel what I’m feeling. I just find it hard to accept I can do the same with you.”
“That’s why we’re perfect for each other.” Sammi smiled up at him, then frowned. “And that’s why I know you’re worried about this. About losing your job.”
Mitchell gazed over Sammi’s head, off into the distance. Time stretched as Sammi waited for his lover to speak. At last, he exhaled.
“Look, whatever happens tomorrow will happen for a reason. Let’s deal with it when it does. Okay?” Mitchell cupped Sammi’s chin, raised it, and gazed into his eyes.
“Okay.” Sammi gave him a tentative smile, then slid back into Mitchell’s arms.
Mitchell led him to the recliner, sat, and pulled him into his lap. Sammi tucked perfectly into the bends of Mitchell’s body as if they were two halves of a whole.
“Did you really think I’d hurt you?” Mitchell cupped Sammi’s face with the palm of his hand.
“I wasn’t sure.” Sammi didn’t meet Mitchell’s eyes.
“Has someone hurt you?” Mitchell’s soft voice drew him out. Made Sammi want to tell Mitchell everything. About the foster homes, living on the streets, his curse, Lizzy, and even Donovan.
“Yeah. This guy I was with. He used to…beat me if I screwed up.” To say Donovan had beaten him was wrong. A beating was simple, straightforward—you took your licks and it was over. Sammi had been beaten in all of his foster homes.
Until he’d met Donovan, Sammi had never known real evil. Those other people were only mean and petty. Donovan was on his own level, a true virtuoso. He used torture, but it was the kind that didn’t leave marks on your body. Bodies were important—Donovan’s customers paid for beautiful bodies like Sammi’s. Instead, Donovan had fucked with Sammi’s head, made him wonder if he was dead or alive, if it was night or day, or how many days had passed since he’d been fed or had water.
Made Sammi wish he were dead.
In the closet.
In the blackness.
No lights, no sounds.
Sammi choked and shook, unable to control his body. He let out a high keen and buried his face in his hands.
“Don’t put me in there.”
Mitchell jerked back as images filled his mind, of being dragged. Fighting it until the last moment. A door opening. Then, blackness all around.
“It was dark where you were. Small and quiet.” Mitchell’s voice trembled as he rode the wave of despair and fear Sammi couldn’t stop. “Shit, babe.”
“Yes. In the closet.” He sighed as he scrubbed his face with his hands.
“This guy used to lock you in a closet? In the dark?” Mitchell growled. “The son of a bitch. You must have been terrified.”
Sammi nodded.
“I’ll never do that, Sammi. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
Mitchell pulled him closer. “Is that why you didn’t want to pick out my clothes?”
“Yes, they were in the closet.”
“Don’t worry. That closet doesn’t have a lock, babe.”
They sat huddled together until Sammi stopped shaking and his breathing went back to normal.
“Sorry. I don’t usually break down like that. I’m a grown man, for God’s sake.” He shook his head and gave a half-hearted laugh.
“Everyone has fears, Sammi. Even me.”
“You? What fears do you have?” Sammi leaned up and stared into Mitchell’s eyes.
“Well, for one thing, I’m terrified that I might lose you.” Mitchell smiled.
Sammi cocked his head to the side. “You are!” He gasped. “Don’t be, Mitch. I’m yours, like I said last night. I’m never going to leave you.” Sammi could no more leave Mitch than Mitch could leave him, but did Mitchell understand what that meant?
“Good. Makes me feel better.” He gave Sammi a quick kiss. “Now, let’s go get some dinner.”
“Dinner?” Sammi frowned. Mitchell wanted to go out, but it was still too soon since Sammi’s escape. He was far too valuable for Donovan just to forget about.
“Yes, dinner. That’s where you and I go to a restaurant and eat food.” Mitchell chuckled.
“How about we order pizza? I’m still a little upset. I think I’d rather spend the time here with you alone.” Sammi gave him a wicked smile.
Mitchell wiggled his eyebrows. “Pizza it is.”
* * * *
Mitchell’s fingers tingled as Sammi licked the last of the pizza sauce from them.
“That was better than going out, wasn’t it?” Sammi ran his tongue around his mouth.
“Maybe.” Mitchell pulled Sammi close. “Now, time for dessert.” He licked Sammi’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.
Sammi moaned and parted his lips. Mitchell thrust inside. Sammi tasted of garlic, pepperoni and that odd sweetness. Damn, every time he tasted Sammi it was more delicious than the last. He was addicted. A junkie for sin, sex and Sammi.
Mitchell clasped Sammi’s firm, tight ass and his cock stiffened as he pulled Sammi closer. He wanted to pound Sammi from behind. Bend him over and slam into that tight, sweet ass.
“I want to fuck you, babe.” He groaned.
“You want me on my knees. Bent over the couch.” Sammi stood and pulled his shirt over his head. He dug a condom and a tube of lube out of his pants, then kicked them off. He tossed the supplies ont
o the couch for later. Mitchell rose to his feet, undressed and stood behind him. Bending over Sammi’s shoulder, Mitchell wrapped his arms around Sammi and found his cock, already at attention. Sammi’s thick flesh felt so good in Mitchell’s hand.
“God, babe, I love your cock.” He stroked it slowly, from the base upward. He squeezed the very end, coaxing a pearl from its tip. He nibbled on Sammi’s neck as he thumbed the droplet over the velvet head of Sammi’s cock.
Sammi’s head fell back, exposing his throat and his swath of bangs fell to the side, revealing his eyes. They shuttered with pleasure as he moaned.
“I want to feel what I felt last night. Both of us. How do I do that?” Mitchell nipped Sammi’s shoulder.
“Close your eyes and just let yourself float. Take down the barriers between us. Let me in,” Sammi coached him.
Mitchell wasn’t sure how to do it, exactly, but he opened himself to Sammi’s pleasure and it raced through him. Mitchell gasped as it landed in his balls, making them pull up hard.
“How the hell do we do that?” Knees bent, Mitchell nestled his cock in the cleft between Sammi’s perfect ass cheeks as he rubbed it up and down. As he gave himself pleasure, he knew Sammi felt it as well.
“Because we’re soul mates.”
“Soul mates. Right.” If this was what that meant, Mitchell knew he’d never had one before. Sammi was the man meant for him and he was meant for Sammi.
“On your knees,” Mitchell ordered.
Sammi knelt on the couch, leaned over the back of it and pushed his ass into the air. “Fuck me, Mitch.”
Mitchell stood behind Sammi and ran his hands over his lean body, feeling the muscles in his lower back, the tautness of Sammi’s buttocks, the silky-soft hairs in his cleft He stroked the sensitive skin from Sammi’s hole to his balls, and Sammi shivered with delight.
“You know what I want,” Sammi crooned.
“I know what you want.” And he did. Mitchell knew what Sammi wanted as if they were his own desires. He leaned down and licked from the space behind Sammi’s bare balls to the top of the cleft in his ass. Sammi swore.
Mitchell did it again, but this time, he paused at Sammi’s tight entrance and teased it with his tongue, feeling the ridges of the pucker, tasting the most private part of him, learning that taste, the texture of his skin.
“Oh, fuck, Mitch! Yes. So good.” Sammi shook, his grip on the back of the couch turning his knuckles white.
Mitchell bent over and kissed his hip, working his way with nips and licks to the furrow between Sammi’s round cheeks He’d never rimmed anyone before, but now he that he’d tasted Sammi, all he wanted was to flick his tongue against his sweet, pink rose.
Sammi cried out as Mitchell danced his tongue around it, then darted in to try to push into that tight hole. Sammi thrust back, whimpering.
Both men felt the rise of their arousal, of sensual feelings so encompassing that the lovers became lost in each other.
“I want you now.” Mitchell scooped up the condom and tore it open, then slipped it on. He opened the lube, paused to spread it over Sammi, then pressed in. Sammi’s back door opened for Mitchell as if he had a key.
“Oh God, it’s good. You go so deep in me.” Sammi gasped as he arched his back to make it easier for Mitchell to fuck him.
“That’s right. So fucking good.” Mitchell gripped Sammi’s hips tighter as he moved in and out, delving deeper with each stroke. Letting go, his body took over and he no longer concentrated on moving his hips or keeping his balance.
Mitchell, lost in primal lust, in the fuck, hammered Sammi’s ass. The cries and whimpers Sammi made, the sounds of their flesh meeting, of their balls slapping together, and the taste of the salty sweat on his upper lip as he worked to bring them both to orgasm, drove Mitchell on.
Mitchell watched as his cock slid in and out of that marvelous, tight, velvet tunnel. Damn, he loved watching—it was so fucking erotic. As he gipped Sammi with one hand, he traced the stretched ring of Sammi’s hole with the middle finger of his other hand, teasing the sensitive flesh.
Sammi howled like an animal and he squeezed his channel so hard on Mitchell’s dick, lights danced behind his eyelids.
His balls tightened and the pressure built. In a few moments, he’d feel the surge fight against the wall, then the sweetness of that wall as it crumbled.
“Harder, Mitch!”
Harder it was. Mitchell leaned over Sammi, pounding in a frenzy, his hips moving like a dynamo, as if he were powered by the electricity arcing between them.
“Oh God, babe, here it comes. Take it. Take my load.” Mitchell was relentless as he fucked Sammi, and Sammi met every ramming thrust with a thrust of his own, taking Mitchell deep inside him.
“Give it to me…fuck me now…oh shit, I’m coming!” Sammi shouted something Mitchell couldn’t understand, but he rode the tidal wave of pleasure flowing from his lover.
Mitchell exploded, shooting hot and hard, taking Sammi with him over the cliff. Their passions merged as they fell in an endless tumble. White spots blossomed behind his eyelids and his and Sammi’s bodies quaked until they both collapsed.
Sammi lay beneath Mitchell on the couch. Mitchell gathered him into his arms and nuzzled his lover’s neck. No way could he form any words other than a few moans or get off the sofa. Sammi clung to him, eyes closed and a sweet smile on his lips, content and satisfied, and made no effort to move. Mitchell reached up, pulled the knit throw off the arm of the couch and wrapped it around them like a cocoon.
He could swear their hearts beat in time with each other, or that could just be some romantic notion. He closed his eyes, making a mental note to ask Sammi more about this joining Sammi called a soul bond. But now was not the time for questions.
Mitchell was lost, a drowning man who’d given up on being saved. He floated to the bottom of an endless sea where Sammi waited for him.
Sammi had exploded into his life like a tsunami, that was true, but the fire that burned in his heart for Sammi was something he knew he couldn’t extinguish. Not with all the water in the seas.
This was utter madness.
He’d deal with work in the morning. He could always find another job, but a man like Sammi was a rarity. A precious pearl in a crazy world.
A jewel he’d do anything to possess and anything to keep.
* * * *
Donovan glared at Moretti. “What do you mean you can’t find him?”
“I’ve been all over the Montrose, boss. Last time he was spotted was four nights ago. The fag who took him home said he was gone before he woke up in the morning.”
“What makes you think he’s still in Montrose?”
“Easy pickings. Lots of possible marks.” Moretti shrugged. “If he leaves the gay district, it’s going to be hard for him to find shelter with anyone. But, once lost in the city, he could be one face in four million and we might never get him back.”
That was not what Donovan wanted to hear. He hated being told he couldn’t have what he wanted, and he wanted Sammi. That young man was worth his weight in gold and that was just what Donovan had planned to charge for him.
The intermediary from Rome had a very special buyer, someone very highly placed. Donovan never asked who the buyers were and he didn’t really care as long as they paid, but this time, he suspected the order for a very special young man had come from Vatican City. Still, it could be anyone.
Sammi was the most gifted sex slave Donovan had ever owned, and he’d sparked a bidding war that had resulted in the largest bid Donovan had ever seen. Losing that amount of money was unacceptable.
“You have to find him before he leaves Montrose.” Donovan closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Getting upset and losing control wouldn’t get him anywhere. Striking out at Moretti would be pointless too. The man had his uses, and with the money he paid Moretti, he ensured the man’s loyalty.
But Sammi had been the crown jewel in Donovan’s harem of sex slaves. Despite Donovan�
�s pampering, letting him live here in the penthouse, the little fool hadn’t been able to see the benefits of being Donovan’s favorite. But, Sammi had been rebellious, and had needed to be taught to mind his master. A slave who couldn’t mind his master was a detriment, not a plus. Seemed Donovan’s corrections hadn’t worked. He regretted that now, and hoped he wouldn’t regret it even more if he lost out on this sale.
Too many visits to the closet had nearly destroyed Sammi. Donovan admitted to himself that he’d been foolish, reckless even, to push his prize so hard. Donovan had never thought Sammi would find a way to escape the penthouse and Donovan’s guards.
“I’ve had my men out every night.” Moretti grimaced. “No luck so far.”
“This time, lose the Town Car. You can see that thing coming from blocks away. Take the new Mercedes—it blends better. Do the bars again, and the tattoo shops, the head shops, have your men check anywhere he might have gone. Try the all-night diners. I want every stone turned over.”
Moretti nodded. “Every stone. Right.” He lumbered to the door of the penthouse, gave the guard there a nod, and exited.
Donovan walked into his study, to his desk, and sat. He turned on his computer, opened the folder marked Horses and searched his stable. There was an order for a blonde girl, a Britney look-a-like, for an Arab prince.
Twelve photos filled the screen. He found two girls in his possession who could work. Donovan closed the other photos and stared at the two left. He’d have his stylist work on Kathy’s hair, get it just the right shade. Shauna needed a nose job. That would cost. However, with the amount the prince was paying, it would be nothing. Donovan’s reputation as the go-to man would remain intact and his rep for delivering was like money in the bank.
Just to be sure, he’d prepare both of the girls. No matter which one he sold to the Arab, he’d sell the other soon enough. Blondes were always in demand. He emailed his contacts and made all the arrangements.
A new message from Rome popped up.
He opened the email, read it through, then hit delete.
They’d moved up the date for delivery. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if he still had Sammi in his possession.