Rusty nodded. “That’s right. Good words to live by. So with your consent”—he flashed a grin in Jack’s direction—“we’ve decided to make it easier for you tonight. Ever been on a St. Andrew’s cross?”
Jack drew in his breath, remembering the large X-shaped crosses they had at some of the clubs, cuffs attached and at the ready to secure wrists and ankles. “Yes,” he said. “A long time ago.”
“It’ll make it easier, I promise. There’s something very freeing about bondage, as ironic as that sounds.”
“I don’t know…” Jack hesitated, aware his cock was stirring at the thought of being bound and at the mercy of some—what had Alexei called him—professional Dominant. But was he really up for this?
“Alexei wants it that way,” Rusty said, finality in his tone.
Jack nodded. If Alexei wanted it…
“Here it is,” Rusty announced as he turned into a gravel driveway. He drove back toward a hedge of evergreens, behind which a gray stone house appeared. Rusty parked the car and they climbed out. He walked toward the front door, Jack following with his overnight bag in his hand and butterflies in his stomach.
Rusty unlocked the door and stepped inside, switching on the light. The door opened directly onto a large, comfortable room, not nearly as cluttered as Alexei’s Manhattan home. Jack took in the sofa and two chairs grouped around a fireplace. There was a wardrobe against one wall, and nearby the promised St. Andrew’s cross, set up next to a padded spanking bench.
The place was warm, with logs already piled in the fireplace, ready to be lit. “I came up earlier,” Rusty said, “to get the place ready for you. You want to use the bathroom or anything while I get the fire going? You can strip in there or out here, whatever suits you.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, as if Jack would naturally expect to strip naked in a stranger’s house the moment he walked in. Jack stood motionless a moment, until Rusty said, “Come on, Jack. You’re here for a reason. Safe, sane, consensual. Right?”
Jack nodded and shrugged. What the hell? In for a penny…
How different was this, really, from picking up some guy at a bar? And this pro Dom, at least, came with Alexei’s seal of approval. That counted for something. Actually, that counted for a lot.
Jack went into the small bathroom typical of these old houses. He took off his clothes, tossing them into a pile on the counter. His hand had healed sufficiently to where he no longer needed the protective gauze padding, though the knuckles remained bandaged. He thought about that past Monday, when he’d smashed his fist against the wall, instead of into Ronan’s face, like he’d wanted to. Imagine if Mr. Fancy Pants Grant could see him now. Would he think less of Jack because he was submissive? Or would he get it?
When Jack returned to the living room, Rusty had the fire going. He was standing in front of the open wardrobe, his back to Jack. Moving closer, Jack saw that the shelves of the wardrobe were filled with BDSM paraphernalia—whips, rope, floggers, crops, cuffs and chain. He swallowed hard, suddenly uneasy.
Rusty turned around and smiled, lifting his eyebrows as he gazed at Jack’s naked body, nodding his silent approval.
“So where’s this guy?” Jack said, resisting a sudden urge to cover his groin.
“He’ll be here any minute,” Rusty replied. “He just called to say he’s only a few minutes away. He meant to be here when we arrived but was running just a little late, he said. Why don’t you stand with your back against the cross? I’ll get you strapped in. That way you’ll be ready to go when he gets here.”
“Okay.” Now that’d he’d made the decision to go along with this whole thing, Jack told himself to go with the flow. He’d give this thing a chance, for Alexei’s sake if nothing else, and see what happened.
He allowed Rusty to secure the cuffs of the cross onto his wrists and ankles, standing obediently with arms outstretched and legs spread. Just as Rusty finished locking him in place, they heard the sound of a car engine.
“That’ll be him,” Rusty said. “I’ll just go greet him, and then I’ll be on my way. Text me in the morning when you’re ready to be picked up.”
“Uh…” Jack experienced a moment’s trepidation. It was one thing to do a scene with someone at a club, but he was incredibly vulnerable right then, naked and strapped to the cross, alone in the house with a stranger. “Maybe this isn’t—”
“You’ll be fine. I promise,” Rusty said, giving Jack’s shoulder a squeeze. He moved into the foyer, and from his position, Jack couldn’t see the front door. He could hear the muted voices of the two men talking in the front hall. Then he heard the sound of the front door closing and a man entered the room.
Jack stared, his mouth falling open of its own accord. He could not be seeing what, or rather who, he was seeing.
The guy stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling as he stared at Jack. “What the hell…?”
Ronan Grant stood just inside the door, looking better than any man had a right to.
~*~
Ronan dropped his duffel bag and removed his jacket. He advanced slowly into the room. When Alexei had referred to his friend Jack, it had never occurred to Ronan it would be Jack Harris, his auto mechanic. Yeah, he’d known Jack was gay, but there’d never been a hint that he was in the scene, and no way would Ronan have pegged him for a sub if he were.
Yet there he was, Jack Harris, naked and cuffed spread eagle before him. His bulging biceps were covered in tattoo ink, his chest smooth save for a V of curling hair at his sternum, his abs flat and well defined. His cock was large, even at half-mast, and nicely displayed between thick thighs forced apart by the cuffs at his ankles. His sandy blond hair flopped into his eyes, which were a particularly vivid blue. His nose was large and slightly crooked, as if it had been broken a time or two, above a full, sensual mouth. Whatever else the guy was, beneath the greasy mechanic’s uniform, he was fucking gorgeous.
Even so, while he’d always found Jack attractive in the abstract, at least physically speaking, it never occurred to him, even in his fantasies, to want to Dom the guy. But Alexei had asked this special favor. Ronan loved Alexei liked a father and would do anything for him. If Jack would cooperate, which certainly remained to be seen.
“Let me down,” Jack said gruffly as Ronan moved to stand directly in front of him.
Not a great start, but maybe he was just nervous. This had to be as much of a surprise for him as it was for Ronan. He’d play it cool, and see how it went—for Alexei’s sake.
Ignoring Jack’s demand, he said in a reasonably calm voice, “Hello, Jack. This is a surprise.”
“Cut the shit, Grant,” Jack interrupted. “I said, let me down. This is a mistake. I don’t know what the fuck Alexei was thinking but—”
“How do you know Alexei?” Ronan shot back. “I had no idea you were even in the scene.”
Jack jerked at his restraints, but the cross was firmly anchored and it did no good. “You gonna let me down or what?” Jack’s face was red with anger, his hands clenched into fists above his cuffs.
Ronan blew out a breath, channeling the calm Alexei had taught him. “Look, this is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. My first impulse is to call Rusty to get back here and we’ll end this right now. But first impulses are not always the best course of action. I know this is awkward—for both of us. Please, just stop a minute and calm down. Take a deep breath and let’s think this through. I’m not going to let you down just yet. Not until we talk things over a little first.”
“I’m warning you…” Jack said, but didn’t complete the sentence. For whatever reason, Alexei apparently saw something in the guy—something worth exploring.
Standing his ground, Ronan said, “Jack, when Alexei called me, he asked me to come over and meet with a man he holds in high regard. He explained this is a man ready to reconnect with the part of himself that can give up control in order to find that intensity of experience he has been missing all these years.”
J
ack said nothing to this, and Ronan took a step closer. “I admit, this is a very, uh, unusual circumstance for us both, but I’m willing to go through with this, if you are. And just so you know,” he added, not entirely sincerely since he couldn’t deny he was unexpectedly attracted to his bound and naked charge, “I’m not doing this for either of us. I’m doing it for Alexei. If you’re as close to him as he indicated, I’d think you’d want to do the same.”
A mix of emotions was playing over Jack’s face—part anxiety, but maybe something else—maybe desire? He had to feel incredibly vulnerable on the cross. Ronan took a step closer and put his hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder.
He drew in a sudden breath, unprepared for his own reaction to the feel of Jack’s warm, smooth skin. He’d always found Jack attractive, in a rugged, rough kind of way, but he’d never considered actually getting involved with the guy.
But now it was as if someone had touched a lightning rod directly to his cock. He dropped his hand and stepped back, getting control of himself.
Looking into Jack’s eyes, he said gently, “Let’s give this a chance, okay? For Alexei. Let’s put aside what we know of each other out there. Let’s focus on who we really are. Obviously, you didn’t know I’m a pro Dom, and I had no clue you were submissive.”
“I’m not—” Jack began, but Ronan silenced him by placing two fingers over the big man’s lips. He resisted an absurd impulse to follow up with his own lips.
“Don’t let’s quibble about terms right now. At this moment, in this house, you are not Jack Harris. I am not Ronan Grant. We are just two people exploring something very powerful. Alexei sees something in you, and I’d like to explore that with you.”
He stroked Jack’s right arm, moving his hand along the muscle toward his bound wrist. “What happened?” he asked, touching the bandage covering his knuckles.
“I, uh, I bumped it. Accidently.” Jack slid his gaze away.
Ronan could tell he was lying, but he didn’t press the issue. He brought his other hand up and stroked Jack’s left arm, moving his hands in tandem along both arms and then down Jack’s sides, smoothing the skin, pressing hard enough so he wouldn’t tickle him. At least Jack had stopped demanding to be let down. That was a first step, at any rate.
He continued to move his hands soothingly over Jack’s flesh, aware of his own erection, hoping Jack wasn’t. When Ronan’s hands moved lower, he noted Jack’s cock twitching to attention. He suppressed a smile, telling himself this was just a reaction to skin-on-skin, not any particular attraction the guy might have for him.
When he curled his fingers around the handsome man’s cock, it wasn’t because he ached to do so, but because it would help get Jack in the proper frame of mind for their session.
Jack gasped softly at Ronan’s touch. His cock elongated and thickened in Ronan’s grip. Ronan brought his other hand to Jack’s balls, cupping them gently. “Are we agreed then, Jack? You will submit to me, just for tonight? I can blindfold you, if that will make it easier.” As he spoke, he stroked Jack’s now rigid shaft, squeezing his balls just hard enough to keep Jack’s complete attention.
When Jack didn’t answer, he squeezed a little harder.
“Answer a direct question, boy.”
Jack whipped his head toward Ronan at the use of the term “boy,” which Ronan had employed on purpose to begin to establish their relationship for the evening.
Jack glared at him, but his cock remained hard as bone beneath Ronan’s fingers.
Ronan waited, lightly stroking the thick, hard shaft.
“Okay, okay,” Jack finally grunted. “For Alexei.”
Ronan managed to suppress his smile. “For Alexei.”
Chapter 5
It would almost have been funny, if it weren’t so fucking insane. Mr. hoity-toity rich guy had shed his designer suit for black leather pants that appeared molded to his legs. He was shirtless beneath the black leather vest that hung open on his broad, smooth chest. A thick gold chain glinted against his tan skin. Jack wouldn’t deny he’d always found the guy hot, but he’d had him figured for an uptight jackass. He never would have believed him a good and trusted friend of Alexei’s, much less a pro Dom.
Yet there he stood, a very nice package bulging beneath that soft leather, his long-fingered hand with the clean, manicured nails wrapped around Jack’s cock, and he couldn’t deny it felt just fine.
Yeah, he was a little nervous—make that a lot nervous. At the same time, something was humming and stirring inside him. Beneath the usual edgy energy, there was something deeper and more powerful at work, something that had been dormant for a very long time.
Ronan let go of Jack’s cock and moved his hands again over Jack’s torso. He palmed the nipples, pressing hard, pushing Jack against the center of the cross. Jack liked the way it felt. He closed his eyes, his nipples tingling as he waited for whatever was going to happen next.
But Ronan withdrew his touch. Feeling the lack of it, Jack opened his eyes. Ronan had stepped back and now stood in front of Jack, his hands on his hips. He exuded a sort of calm power, but it was different from the obnoxious arrogance Jack had come to associate with him. When he spoke, the authority in his voice was compelling. It reminded Jack of Alexei, back in the day.
“A few ground rules. For this time we are together, you will address me as Sir. You will obey me without hesitation. If you have a question or are unsure of a direction, you must ask me. If you are uncomfortable or frightened, tell me. Communication is paramount, especially since we don’t know each other—that is, we don’t know each other in this context.”
Jack nodded. He could say that again.
“This first session is mainly an exploration—of your limits, your desires, your expectations, your needs. Usually this wouldn’t require a safeword, since I don’t plan to put you in a situation where that might become necessary. But just in case, since we are new together, your safeword will be Porsche. Any questions so far?”
Jack smirked to hide his nervousness. Before he realized he was going to speak, the words were out of his mouth—old words that suddenly had no meaning there, and yet still they spilled like garbage from his lips. “Cut the lofty D/s shit, Grant. You gonna let me down so I can show you how the big boys play?”
Ronan moved so quickly Jack didn’t even have time to gasp, slapping Jack’s cheek, the force of the strike whipping his head to the side. Before Jack could speak again, Ronan, his face now nearly touching Jack’s, said in a quiet voice, “Do that again, boy, and I walk out, Alexei or no. Either you take this seriously and make it matter, or we stop now.”
He stepped back.
“This isn’t a game, Jack. Not for me. You said you were willing to try. That kind of flippant response tells me otherwise.” His hand arced out and, quick as lightning, he slapped Jack’s other cheek, even harder than the first. “So, I’ll ask you this once. Are you ready to submit to me for the night?”
Jack was breathing hard, his face warm not only from the slaps, but the hot, familiar anger that was so much a part of him. At the same time, his cock was bobbing, fully erect, between them. If it had been anyone else, anyone but Ronan, he could have handled the situation better, he was sure of it.
Ronan stood watching him, his brows furrowed, a frown on his face. He looked pissed off, too. When Jack still said nothing, the anger seemed all at once to wash from Ronan’s features. With a small shake of his head, he reached for Jack’s right wrist and released the clip. “We’re done. You can get the rest of those cuffs off yourself. I’ll let Alexei know there was a misunderstanding.” He turned and walked toward the front hall.
“Wait!” Jack called impulsively. “I’m sorry. Please, Ronan. Uh, Sir. I don’t know why I said that. I think I’m just, uh, nervous, you know? It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in a situation like this.” All at once, he knew he didn’t want Ronan to leave, and it wasn’t only because of Alexei.
Ronan stopped, though he didn’t turn around.<
br />
“I had just got out of the Navy when I had my first real relationship with a Dom,” Jack blurted.
Ronan turned slowly around, though he didn’t come closer.
In a rush, Jack continued, “He was heavy into rough play but light on communication. I thought we were in love, but I was wrong.”
“Go on,” Ronan said softly.
“I thought he was the one. I couldn’t see straight I was so into him. I worshipped him. One night out of the blue when I came home from work, the locks were changed and all my stuff was piled up in the hall. I banged on the door and he called through it to get lost. He said he was bored with me. That he’d found a new boy toy and I was no longer wanted. That’s when I figured out love was for losers.”
Ronan moved toward him, stepping closer. “So much anger,” he said softly. He touched Jack’s bandaged knuckle. “How did this really happen? You did it that day I was in your shop, didn’t you? The day I came in for my tires?”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Ronan spoke over him.
“I was in the waiting area, Jack. I heard the banging, and then I heard your assistant talking to you with some urgency. You were hitting the wall with your bare fist, weren’t you? You did that to yourself in your frustration and your anger.”
Jack stared at him, too stunned to protest.
“I owe you an apology for how I behaved that morning,” Ronan continued, to Jack’s shock. “You were helping out Ryan when he was in trouble, and I was unable to make allowances for that.”
“Thank you,” Jack muttered, startled how much the man’s apology meant. “I’m sorry for being such a dick just now…Sir.”
Ronan smiled. “Apology accepted.”
Jack lifted his freed arm and settled his wrist back into the cuff at the top of the cross. “I want to try again, Sir,” he pleaded. “If you’re still willing.”
Ronan held him in his gaze for several long beats. Then he nodded. “I’m glad. I want it too.” Reaching for Jack’s wrist, he re-clipped the cuff around it, securing him again against the cross.
Switching Gears (Serving his Master Book 7) Page 4