Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Don’t lecture me on breaking vows. I was prepared to get married before I started this tour, but you turned me down.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of role models you’ve had,” I said, “but a long-distance relationship doesn’t make for a healthy marriage. My expectations are obviously different from yours, and I honestly don’t know if we can merge both. A part of me understands your need to go back and finish something you started, but the other side of me is outraged that you would just assume I’d follow along with your plan.”

  “I thought you were clear on your role as my submissive?”

  “Don’t I have a voice? This is real life we’re talking about, Trent, not a scene at the club.”

  Trent held me away from him so he could look directly into my eyes. “The dynamics of our relationship won’t change by location. You’ll always be my sub and I your Dom, whether we’re together on a yacht or I’m alone on a camel. I expect you to obey my rules just as you’d expect me to do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  “Is that what this boils down to? You asserting your rights as my Dom?”

  “It’s a part of it,” Trent said. “Haven’t I proven over and over that I know what’s best for you?”

  I was stunned. Expecting submission in the bedroom was one thing, but if Trent thought for one second that I would bow my head and meekly accept a life-altering decision, he was wrong.

  “You might think you know what’s best for me, but waving good-bye as you fly off to parts unknown does not make me a happy sub. For one thing, I’m terrified that you’ll come home in a body bag.”

  “There’s always that possibility, but a regular job doesn’t necessarily translate to safety. Do you think any of those people living their ordinary lives expected to die the day those planes crashed into the Twin Towers? Life is uncertain as fuck, Sloan. There are no guarantees that either one of us will see our fortieth birthday. I refuse to spend the next few years locked up in a room to keep you from worrying.”

  “There’s a slight difference between locking oneself away and jumping off a fucking plane, Trent. Don’t you dare talk down to me like I’m some clueless moron. You know how much I hate it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You should be,” I said miserably.

  “Let’s stop arguing about this, Sloan. There’ll be time enough when I get home for a thorough rehashing of events. Best-case scenario is I’ll get this out of my system and life will go on.”

  “The flip side is you’ll love every minute of your tour and I’ll end up holding my dick in my hand.”

  “Speaking of dicks,” he said, cupping mine through my jeans. “Fighting with you always makes me horny.”

  “We’re about to pull up to the curb.”

  Trent rapped on the privacy glass, and when the driver rolled down the window, he asked the guy to go around the approach one more time.

  The driver lifted an eyebrow. “It’ll cost you extra.”

  “Do it.”

  He muttered something under his breath, rolled up the glass partition, and stepped on the gas. The limo lurched forward, and I fell against Trent’s chest. I looked at him in surprise. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He smirked. “What does it look like?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  He let go of my cock and moved his right hand up to my neck, wrapping strong fingers around me like a warm collar. I felt the pressure on my windpipe as he slowly squeezed to make his point.

  His breathing shifted when he saw the look of alarm on my face, and arousal flared in the sky blue eyes. “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

  “Trent….”

  “Listen to me, Sloan. When I’m in the middle of the goddamn desert, surrounded by sand fleas and stinking bodies, I want to remember you with your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock. You’ve obviously forgotten what it means to be my sub, and I’m leaving you with a little reminder.”

  I closed my eyes. Despite my reservations, I could feel my mindset shifting, getting into my submissive role as soon as I heard that commanding tone. I slithered down his body and landed on my knees in between his legs. A hard lump was straining against his zipper, and when I eased him from the tight denim, his rigid shaft sprang out like a living thing, oozing tantalizing droplets that compelled me to lick.

  “Good boy,” he moaned, canting his hips. “As deep you can, babe.”

  I relaxed my throat and let him take the lead, knowing this was what he expected. Sure enough, he raked his fingers through my hair and, clutching me with both hands, began to thrust with wild abandon. He peaked within minutes, and I swallowed convulsively as he spurted thickly down my throat. I felt myself being lifted back up to his chest, and he crushed my mouth while I still had drops of him coating my tongue.

  “Your turn,” he said when we parted lips. I began rutting against his thigh and shuddered to climax while he whispered dirty words of encouragement. “That’s it, baby. Give it up for me.”

  My heart was fluttering against my chest, but I had to admit his going-away present was an inspired choice. Nonetheless, I had to give him a hard time or I’d ruin my reputation as the world’s worst sub.

  “You bastard,” I sighed, slumping against him in a boneless heap. “How am I going to face the driver with a big wet spot down my jeans?”

  “With pride,” Trent said smoothly, “and I want you to wear the same jeans all day, so you’ll keep me in your thoughts.”

  “Jeez….”

  He tightened his grip around me. “I love you, Sloan. More than I’ve loved anyone in my life. You’ve got to know that.”

  “Four days ago I did. Now… not so much.”

  “Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything has changed, Trent.”

  “No, it hasn’t. You’re feeling threatened by my departure and turning my decision into a failure on your part. You’ve done nothing wrong, Sloan.”

  “But you’re unhappy.”

  “Not with you.”

  “Why does it feel like we’re talking in two different languages, Trent?”

  “Maybe we are.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m trying to appeal to your logical side. My boring job is making me miserable. No matter how good my home and love life, there will always be something lacking. This is about me, not you. Stop taking this situation out of context and assuming I don’t love you. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

  “Our definition of love isn’t the same,” I countered.

  “Will you stop with the fucking semantics?”

  I could tell he was losing patience again despite the afterglow of good sex. “We’re almost at the airport,” I pointed out and snuggled closer. Hell, if he couldn’t understand where I was coming from, there was no point in talking. I wanted him to leave in the right frame of mind so he’d hurry home instead of staying away. “Promise me you’ll come back in one piece.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Suddenly, I was terrified that I’d never see him again and I threw my arms around his neck and hung on desperately. “Trent, I’m scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “This void I’m facing… what’ll I do if you don’t come back?”

  “Don’t even think like that.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “I’ll be home before you know it.”

  “You sound so confident.”

  “It’s the only way to face your enemy.”

  Easing off, I tried to cover my tracks for the next week in case he couldn’t reach me for some reason. “Since you’re not going to be around, I may do some foreign shoots for Max to keep myself occupied.”

  “Whatever works.”

  “Call me?”

  “As often as I can.”

  “I love you, Trent.”

  Trent kissed me hard and then attacked my neck, leaving a bunch of hickeys as souvenirs. I could tell he was reluctant to let me go, but as he said,
he’d given his word.

  His parting shot was classic Trent. “Touch anyone while I’m gone and you’ll live to regret it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied honestly.

  Chapter 7

  LESS THAN twenty-four hours later, I was at the airport again, only this time it was at the American Airlines Admirals Club at JFK. We were taking off at eleven, with a two-hour layover in Chicago before catching the long flight to Narita airport in Tokyo. I was staring at the meager breakfast offerings while wondering why in hell Cole hadn’t booked a nonstop flight. It would have been so much easier to get on and off a plane one time, what with his and Freddie’s requirements. I grabbed a banana and a large coffee and headed back to where I’d left Cole. He was listening to something on his iPhone and seemed preoccupied. I assumed he’d already had breakfast, since Cole usually ate something disgustingly healthy thirty minutes after waking.

  I pulled out one of his earbuds. “Tell me again why we’re not flying directly to Tokyo?”

  “There’s $18,333 reasons why.”

  “Sorry?”

  “A nonstop first class ticket to Tokyo on such short notice is $24,432 per person.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. And the one-stop fare is…?”

  “It’s $6,100.”

  “Per person?”

  “Why are you acting like you’ve never bought an airline ticket?”

  “You know I don’t take care of that shit. I just show up.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “You’ve never accepted help with this sort of thing, Cole. I can’t imagine you’ve changed much in that regard.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then don’t complain that I have people who work out my travel arrangements.”

  “I’ll stop whining if you quit bitching about the layover in Chicago.”

  “O’Hare Airport is a nightmare, thank you very much, but far be it for me to point that out. It’s your dime, after all.”

  “I’m forking over three million dollars in a few days. It’s not unreasonable to want to save money on airfare.”

  His words hit home like a slap. I squeezed his thigh and mumbled an apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He sighed heavily. “It’s not your fault. I’m grateful I was able to come up with the money.”

  “Do you have it on you?”

  “No. It’ll be electronically transferred to my bank’s Tokyo branch.”

  “Wait a minute. Didn’t they want cash?”

  “I won’t travel with that kind of money in a briefcase. The very idea is ludicrous, and don’t even mention that it works in the movies. Besides, you can only take so much cash in and out of a country without a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo. I’m certain they’d prefer we do this on the down-low.”

  “Then why didn’t they say electronic transfer instead of cash on the instructions sheet?”

  “I’m sure it was an oversight.”

  “Seriously, Cole? The Yakuza has been around for a very long time. They can’t be that inept.”

  “It’s too late now.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. His arrogance continued to astound me. Despite the gravity of his current situation, Cole acted like he was in charge. Did he honestly think the kidnappers gave a shit what the law stipulated?

  Brushing these thoughts aside, I asked him something that had been bothering me from day one. “Will this be the end of it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you know they won’t try this again? You’re an easy mark, Cole. These bastards will find a way to milk you forever once they realize you have access to millions.”

  “I’ll have to guard the boys more closely.”

  “There’s no way to do that without keeping them in a bubble, and I wouldn’t want their childhoods to be restricted because of a potential crime. We’d better make sure this never happens again.”

  “What makes you such an authority on crime?”

  “I’m not, but anyone with a brain can tell you that a successful crime will only embolden the criminal.”

  Cole turned toward my voice and appeared to be thinking. I was relieved that he hadn’t shot down my observation with another one of his caustic remarks. He’d always taken my advice with a grain of salt, so this pensive attitude was a welcome change.

  “Shouldn’t we be more concerned about a successful outcome instead of worrying about a repeat?”

  “Getting the boys back is the priority, of course, but if we can kill two birds with one stone, shouldn’t we try?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Worrying about Trent hadn’t really given me the time to work out a viable plan, and in truth, I’d never expected Cole to listen to me. Ideas had been flitting in and out of my subconscious ever since I’d learned about the kidnapping, though, and since he was being so decent, I thought he deserved the truth.

  “Honestly, Cole, I haven’t worked it out in my head yet, but I have some ideas. I’d like to run them by you when they become clearer.”

  He nodded. “That sounds good, Sloan. Would you mind asking the people at the info desk if there’s a pet relief area at O’Hare? Freddie’s okay for now, but he’ll need to go when we get to Chicago. He’s not a pup anymore and can’t hold his bladder like he used to.”

  Freddie lifted his head and rewarded us with a soft woof when he heard his name. His tail wagged back and forth like a metronome. “Did you hear him, buddy? Your daddy just called you an old man.”

  Freddie slobbered all over my hand, blissfully unaware that he was fast approaching his ninth birthday. He’d had a long and useful run as Cole’s guide dog, but he’d have to be retired soon, spending the rest of his days playing with the twins or sleeping in the sun. A younger dog was needed to keep up with the grueling task of being Cole’s eyes and ears. That was a conversation neither Cole nor I could deal with right now, though. Training a new service dog was a long and tedious business, and Cole would need a clear mind and some time off to find the right match. It was almost as hard as finding the perfect husband. I ruffled Freddie’s fur and bent down to give him a hug. Cole knew I loved his dog as fiercely as he did. I stood, welcoming the chance to walk around a bit.

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” I said, heading toward the airline counter.

  It turned out there were two pet relief areas at O’Hare airport, aside from the one at the airport Hilton Hotel I was familiar with, one outside Terminal 1 and one at Terminal 5. They were both on the lower level near the baggage claim areas, which meant I’d have to exit security, but it would be worth it. Freddie could do his business before the long flight to Tokyo without a problem.

  “Would you make sure we have some sort of transport between concourses when we land? I have a service dog that’ll need to pee, and his blind master could really use the extra help finding his way while I’m occupied with the dog.”

  “We’ll have everything ready when you arrive,” the ticket agent assured me.

  “I’d like a golf cart, if that’s available. Professor Fujiwara won’t use a wheelchair.” Hell, I’d be lucky if Cole used anything at all. He hated calling attention to his disability, but sometimes it was inevitable.

  “The cart and attendant will be at the gate when you land. They can drop you and the dog off at the baggage claim exit before they head over to the Admirals Club with the professor.”

  “Thank you.”

  I looked over at Cole and Freddie and recognized how easily I’d slipped back into my role as caretaker. I’d done it for five years before our breakup, and I suppose it was like any other learned skill. You didn’t forget; you only had to jog a few memories.

  Cole had stubbornly tried to hide his impending blindness when we’d first met. It took a while for me to figure out what the hell was going on, but after I realized he was on the verge of losing his eyesight, I studied up on his disease, learned Braille, worked with his psychologist, Dr. John Butterman, and familiarized myself
with every necessary way to make Cole’s life easier without treating him like an invalid. I’d walked around our apartment blindfolded noting whenever I’d bump into something and made sure the objects in question were either repositioned or discarded. Everything was done behind Cole’s back so he wouldn’t feel diminished in any way. I’d made it my mission to treat him as normally as possible, and he appreciated my attitude without actually coming out and saying it. It galled him to ask for favors, but he’d become comfortable again with me by his side. We were falling back into our old routine, like this business of Freddie’s needs. Cole would have never allowed anyone else to make arrangements for his dog, but he was clearly comfortable having me do it.

  “Everything is set,” I said when I sat down beside him.

  “Thank you,” he replied, rewarding me with one of his rare smiles. The change in his appearance was dramatic. The stormy cloud that had hovered over him for so long moved away, brightening the landscape of his striking face. I hadn’t seen that smile in years, and it felt good to know I’d put it there.

  When Cole had asked me to go to Tokyo, I was sure we’d have some weird moments. We hadn’t been together as a couple in over three years, and a lot of horrid shit had gone down during that time. I’d been a little concerned that he’d dredge up the past or bicker over nonsense, but he’d either mellowed out or I’d grown up or both. In any case, it was a huge relief that it was easy between us, and I had no intention of rocking the boat by asking him what was different.

  My serenity was short-lived, because the moment the plane leveled at thirty-six thousand feet, Cole asked about Trent. I was sipping on a kickass Bloody Mary and almost choked on my celery stick when I heard his query.

  “How’d you manage to get away without telling Trent about the kidnapping?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “He has no idea I’m here.”

  “Dammit, Sloan. I don’t want to piss him off.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll never find out, ’cause he’s on his way to fucking Afghanistan.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You heard right. He’s on a six-week mission with some old Army buddy. Trent doesn’t have a clue that I’m helping you. He thinks I’m on some foreign shoot.”