by Lynn Lorenz
He closed his eyes and pictured the other thing he’d wanted to do—ride a horse. Ever since he’d been a kid, he’d dreamed of being a cowboy. Being a sex slave hadn’t been his choice. He could thank Mitchell for freeing him from that horrid life and an even worse future.
Now he was building his new life. He’d studied hard and gotten his GED, started his first semester in culinary school, worked part-time at Otto’s grill and had real friends. And one of them was Rush.
Rush had a ranch, and the one time they’d been there Sammi had seen the horses in the pasture, but they’d been busy moving Brian into Rush’s place and he’d never had a chance to bring it up or even get close to one.
Would Rush let him ride a horse? Not one of the bucking broncos, like in the rodeo, but a pretty brown horse with a white blaze on its face and sweet dark brown eyes. He would feed it an apple. Sammi sighed.
What a fabulous Christmas that would be! He’d have everything. Mitchell, the guys, a spa day and a horse ride.
The timer on the stove went off. His next batch of Christmas cookies was done. He opened the oven, took out the cookie sheet and inhaled. The scent of vanilla and ginger filled the kitchen.
He placed it on the stovetop and checked them over. Perfect. He grabbed the next batch off the kitchen table and popped them into the oven, shut the door and reset the timer.
On one side of the kitchen table, he’d set up a cookie packaging line complete with wax paper, Christmas decorated boxes, and ribbons. Since he’d been going to culinary school, his hours at the grill had been cut drastically, so money was tight. And no way would he borrow money from Mitchell—he already owed him for his school tuition. So, he used what he had to buy ingredients to make the cookies and buy the wrapping supplies.
Enough for two dozen for each of their friends. He’d just agreed to no presents, but he didn’t think of homemade cookies as presents. They were…holiday food! No one would make a fuss over that, would they?
Besides, who else could he give these to?
On the other side of the table, cooling cookies waited to be decorated with pink icing. He giggled at the ones he’d finished. Two dozen little pink penises, with shaved coconut or chocolate stuck on the balls. With his icing bag and tips, he’d even added a white pearl of cum at the slit he’d pressed into each one. He hoped the guys would get a laugh out of them, and they’d love the way the naughty cookies tasted.
He sat down and started to fill the next box. Counting the ones in the oven, he only had two more dozen to do and he’d be done.
* * * *
The door opened as Sammi tied the bow on the last cookie box.
“Hey, babe! You home?” Mitchell called to him from the front hall.
“In the kitchen,” Sammi sang out. He’d lost track of time working on the cookies.
Mitchell entered, pulling off his tie and sliding his suit jacket off to hang it on the back of his chair.
“Gimme a kiss.” He held out his arms and, without hesitation, Sammi rushed to him, letting himself be wrapped up in Mitchell’s arms. He took a deep breath and sighed. Nothing better than Mitchell coming home to him every day.
Sure, he’d loved spending time all day with Mitchell after he’d lost his job, but working Mitchell was far better. The change in him had been subtle, and Sammi didn’t have to read Mitchell’s mind to see the way being unemployed had affected him. He’d tried to hide it, but he’d been miserable, his confidence had taken a blow, and Sammi’s guilt for being the reason for it all ate at him, feeding into it. A weird dynamic had soon developed—Sammi had been the one going off to work, picking up more hours at the grill to tide them over, with Mitchell staying home, hunting for a job. For a while, they’d sort of drawn apart, arguing over petty stuff, and it had scared the hell out of Sammi. Just the thought of him and Mitchell separating had nearly killed him. And if they had, with their soul bond linking them, it might have meant death for one or both.
Then, thank God, Mitchell had been hired and everything had gone back to normal.
Sammi tilted his head back and offered his lips to Mitchell. They kissed hello and I love you and I missed you until Sammi broke away.
Mitchell stared at the table. “What’s all this?” He picked up one of the boxes and gave it a shake. “Presents?”
“I’m baking cookies for everyone. Homemade cookies are the best, right?” Sammi looked at Mitchell for confirmation.
“They sure are. I remember making cookies with my mom when I was a kid.” Mitchell sniffed the box. “This smells delicious.”
Sammi’s heart stuttered. “I never made…you know, with my mom dying when I was a kid…” Without warning, his eyes filled with tears. Ever since he’d found his grandmother and learned about his mom, the pain of what could have been surfaced more often and at odd times, like now.
Mitchell groaned. “I’m so sorry. That was dumb of me.” He pulled Sammi back into his arms. “But, hey, did you make some for your grandmother? I’m sure she’d love your cookies.”
Sammi giggled. “Maybe not these.” He grimaced. “They’re penises.”
“Uh, no. Maybe you should make some more…Christmasy-style cookies for her. You know, snowmen, trees and stars. That sort of thing.”
“And Otto, too.” Sammi nodded. “I’ll get those done tomorrow.”
Mitchell laughed. “Hey, do I get some of those penis ones?”
Sammi glanced up from under his bangs, trying for sexy. “Well, I do have a very special one just for you.”
Mitchell groaned and ran his hand over Sammi’s dick. It hardened under his caress. But Sammi pulled away.
“Before I forget, Brian called your cell, but you didn’t answer. So, he called here and I talked to him. That’s okay, right?” Sammi gazed up into Mitchell’s eyes.
“Of course. You can talk to whoever you want to. You can even call people, you know.” Mitchell brushed Sammi’s long black bangs behind his ear then kissed the tip of his nose. “What did he want?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful! He and Rush are inviting everyone to the ranch for Christmas! Jack and Edward and Winston are invited too! They’re going to do a Christmas Eve buffet, breakfast and then a big dinner! And they said no presents. Can we go?” Everything spilled out of him in a rush.
“Hey, that’s great!” Mitchell grinned, then sobered. “Damn. I only get two days off. Christmas and the day after. I have to go in to work on Thursday and Friday.”
“I told him I wasn’t sure when you had off. You can’t take any extra days?” Sammi bit his lip. This could ruin everything.
“No way. I’m still in my ninety-day probation period. Best behavior, remember?” He kissed Sammi again. “Don’t frown, baby.” He squeezed Sammi, then released him. “We can leave right after work and get there for the Christmas Eve party. And we can come back late in the afternoon the day after.”
Sammi chewed on the side of his cheek. “Well…” He let his voice fade out.
Mitchell put him at arm’s length. “Sammi. What’s up?” He put his thumb on Sammi’s chin and tilted his head up so Sammi could gaze into his eyes. “I’m feeling something from you…” He closed his eyes and touched Sammi with his mind. “Rush has horses.”
“What? You want to ride a horse?” Mitchell chuckled. “At Rush’s ranch?”
Sammi sighed. “And a pedicure at Edward’s spa.” He slumped a bit. “But there won’t be time, not with all the festivities, and the cooking, and everything.”
Mitchell smiled. “So maybe you can stay for a few days after. I can go back to Houston, and then come to pick you up on the weekend. Would that work?”
“Really? You’d let me stay?” Sammi bounced on his toes. Oh, he loved Mitchell so much!
“Baby, you don’t need my permission.” He sobered and kissed Sammi’s forehead. “You can come and go as you please. I’d hoped after six months you’d understand that I’m not going to keep you…” He huffed and exhaled. “Well, let’s call it locked up.”
“So, you’ll stay with the guys, hang out, get a spa day and ride a horse. You’ll have a blast! It’s settled.”
Sammi knew Mitchell wouldn’t deny him anything, so he was always careful about what he mentioned or asked for. History told him Mitchell would brave death for him. And no way did Sammi ever want to take advantage of that love, even if they were soul-bonded.
He reached out and touched Mitchell’s mind with his to see if he was okay about leaving him at the ranch and going back to Houston.
“I want you to go and have fun. I love you, baby.” A wave of Mitchell’s love washed over him.
“Thanks!” He threw his arms around Mitchell’s neck and wrapped his legs around his waist. Sammi kissed Mitchell hard, trying to show him all the love in his heart, even if Mitchell could feel it through their bond.
Mitchell broke away. “You don’t have to show me, baby. I know you love me.” He touched his forehead to Sammi’s. “Soul bond.”
“Soul bond.” Sammi grinned.
Mitchell grabbed a handful of Sammi’s ass and shifted him up a little higher for a better grip. “Bed.”
“Yes.” Sammi kissed the space between Mitchell’s ear and the collar of his work shirt. “Need you.”
Mitchell headed down the hall to the bedroom. He’d been waiting all day to come home to Sammi. He thanked God every day the tornado that was his lover had whirled into his life, destroyed it, then rebuilt it, making it better than Mitchell had ever thought he deserved or would ever have.
And all because they found each other through a weird mind bond neither he nor Sammi could explain.
Mitchell held on to Sammi as he kicked open the bedroom door. Man, all day he’d fought off thinking of all the things he and Sammi would do once he got home. They were a big distraction for him, but he couldn’t take a chance on losing this job. He didn’t blame Sammi for losing his previous job—that had been all his fault. And that goon of Donovan’s, Morelli.
It’d taken him a few months to find a new job and he would do anything to keep it. They needed the paycheck and benefits, especially while Sammi was in school and not working as much. He’d hated that he’d put that pressure on Sammi so soon after he’d gotten on his feet. He’d wanted to care for him, protect him, help him become the person he knew Sammi could be, not crush him under a sudden wave of financial burdens.
Mitchell staggered over to their bed, keeping a firm grip on Sammi’s tight ass.
“Bed!” Sammi laughed and launched himself onto it backward, arms flung out. He landed and bounced.
“Take off your clothes, baby.” Mitchell started stripping. His dick strained at his zipper, his balls aching. What he wanted to do to his Sammi…
“I know what you want.” Sammi pushed his jeans down. Commando. Mitchell shivered. His Sammi, his boy, loved going freestyle.
My boy?
He shook his head. No. That wasn’t right. It bordered on…ownership. And Sammi’d had enough of being owned for a lifetime. He’d struggled to never treat Sammi as less than an equal, and never as a slave.
“I know you do.” Mitchell pushed the thought out of his mind before Sammi got hold of it. He’d never hurt Sammi. He’d die first.
Sammi rocked up, pulled off his shirt and flopped back down onto the mattress, naked as a jaybird. Fuck, his body was incredible. Mitchell kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his slacks and briefs, dropped his shirt onto the pile of clothes and yanked off his socks, tossing them on top.
His dick stuck out, hard and aching. Mitchell grabbed his nuts with one hand and stroked his shaft with the other. What Sammi did to him, how turned on he got just looking at Sammi, or hearing his sexy voice, or the expression on his face while he was being fucked.
“Blow me, baby.”
Mitchell closed his eyes and added, “…your finger in my ass…”
“You want me to blow you.” Sammi grinned, then his eyes opened and his smile grew bigger. “You want me to blow you while I finger fuck you, don’t you?”
Mitchell nodded. He squeezed the base of his dick to keep from losing it. Fuck, he loved to hear Sammi talk dirty. Tell him what he would do to him. Just hearing the words made Mitchell go crazy, want to pound Sammi hard. Spill all over him.
“And I know what you want to do to me.” Sammi’s voice was wicked sexy.
Mitchell groaned. Sammi patted the bed. “Lay down.” Mitchell stretched out on his back, his legs apart so Sammi could position himself there.
Instead, Sammi knelt next to him, at his hips. Mitchell reached up and ran his fingers through Sammi’s hair. “Suck me. Just thinking of you has me aching. I’m not going to last long.” “Fair warning.”
“I’m going to make you blow hard.”
Mitchell shuddered. Sammi bent over, his ass in the air, and held Mitchell’s cock upright. He licked the head, flicked the membrane under the rim and caressed his way over Mitchell’s balls, across his taint, then touched Mitchell’s hole.
Mitchell bucked, thrusting his dick deeper into Sammi’s mouth. Sammi swallowed him, dragged up hard, then went down again, all the time circling Mitchell’s opening with his finger. Teasing. Scraping. Pushing but not entering him.
Driving him crazy. Shit. He struggled to keep from coming. He wanted more ass play.
Mitchell watched Sammi blow him. Fuck. He reached out and ran his hand over Sammi’s shoulder, down his back to his butt, giving it a squeeze. And got an idea. No reason we both couldn’t have some fun. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, squeezed out a dollop onto his finger, then tossed it to Sammi. It rolled and hit Sammi’s leg.
Sammi popped off his dick, picked up the lube and squirted some out on his finger. He resumed sucking Mitchell’s cock as he pressed his finger against Mitchell’s hole.
He groaned, relaxing to let Sammi inside. With a hard press, Sammi pushed and his ass opened.
“Oh fuck. Breached. Yeah, baby.” Sammi worked his finger in and out, twisting and opening him.
Mitchell exhaled. “Damn you. I know what you want.”
He smoothed his hand over the curve of Sammi’s ass, then ran his finger down the crack to his target. A quick circle to spread some lube, then he dove in, pushing deep. Sammi didn’t need him to go slow. He pushed back onto Mitchell’s finger.
“Yeah. That’s it. Finger fuck me. Hard and fast. Go deep, baby.”
This was one of the best parts of their bond. Not needing words. They could keep their mouths busy and still talk to each other.
“Want to fuck you. Want you to come. Shoot all over me.”
Sammi moaned, humping Mitchell’s finger as he sucked hard on Mitchell’s dick while fucking him deep and slow.
“Fuck. Like this?”
Mitchell angled his finger and hit Sammi’s prostate. Sammi jerked and did the same to Michell. They echoed each other’s moves. Whatever one did to the other’s ass got reciprocated. For a few times, Mitchell would lead, then Sammi would take over.
“Oh God. You’re making me come. Baby! Yes. Yes. Yes.”
The suction on his dick and Sammi’s finger rubbing his gland was too much. Mitchell arched his back, his balls pulling tight, his cock filling…and he emptied his load down Sammi’s throat.
Sammi swallowed, then popped off with a loud gasp. Mitchell worked his finger harder over Sammi’s prostate. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”
“Yes. I’m coming. For you, Daddy. All for you.”
Sammi sat back, wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it one long stroke. He cried out and shot, hot white ropes spewing, landing on Mitchell’s belly, painting him with his release.
“Oh, Daddy. So good.”
With a toss of his head, he whipped his bangs away from his face,
as he continued to work the last of his cum out of his slit. A final drop fell and hit Mitchell’s spent cock.
“Daddy?” Mitchell croaked out. “Where did that come from?”
Sammi sat back and exhaled. A blush painted his cheeks. “Well, I’ve been on the internet…reading…about stuff.”
Mitchell cupped Sammi’s face in his hand. “About daddies and…boys? Did you hear me thinking?”
“Sort of.” Sammi rushed on, “But I’d been thinking about it…reading up on it before today. For a few months. I just didn’t think you’d…”
“Understand? What? That you want me to be your daddy?” Mitchell frowned. “I’m not really sure what that’s supposed to mean to you. I know I sometimes think of you as…my boy. But I don’t want you to ever think I own you, or think you belong to me. Not like a…slave. Not like Donovan.” He shook his head at the image of the fucker who’d captured Sammi and used him as a sex slave, almost selling him to someone. “Not like property. Never.”
Sammi got up, went to the bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth. He stopped at the bed, put his leg up on it, and wiped the cum dripping down his thighs.
Mitchell groaned. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to get me hard again.”
Sammi smiled. “And that’s bad?” He turned the cloth around, then wiped down Mitchell’s belly. When he was done, he tossed it onto the pile of clothes.
“No. Well, yeah.” Mitchell opened his arms and Sammi slid in, a perfect fit. He rested his head on Mitchell’s shoulder. “Look. This daddy-boy thing. What do you want it to mean, for us?”
Sammi ran his finger in a circle over Mitchell’s chest. He’d spent a lot of time thinking and researching. “Well, what I want is to know I belong to you. That you’re going to take care of me. That you’re the top to my bottom. And that you think of me as your boy. And understand that I want to please you so much, make you happy, any way I can.”
“I want to make you happy too, baby.” Mitchell kissed his forehead. “How about we give it a try for a while? Then we can decide if it’s what we both want. But, Sammi, look at me.”