Cleave (Cutting Cords Series Book 3)

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Cleave (Cutting Cords Series Book 3) Page 3

by Mickie B. Ashling


  “I’ll be seeing him and the rest of his family for the first time since we broke up. It was hard enough hearing his voice. I’m not sure how I’ll react to being around him.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “I’d love it, but I’m going to have to say no. This is something I need to do on my own.”

  “There’s nothing he can do or say to hurt you anymore.”

  “I know, but we have so much history, sir. It’s not like he’s only a former boyfriend. Our families have been connected for years. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure my dad will be flying in for the service.”

  “Why don’t you call your father and find out.”

  “He’ll want to meet you if he comes.”

  “I don’t care. Do you?”

  “He’ll interrogate you.”

  “Let him try,” Trent challenged. “If I can put up with Max, I can deal with anyone.”

  “Max? Is he still interfering?”

  “Don’t say anything to him. He wants to make certain I’m not being too hard on you.”

  “Does he think you’ve got me locked up in a basement?”

  Trent huffed. “He watches over you like a mother hen.”

  “Still?”

  “Even though I’ve reassured him, he doesn’t really believe it since we’ve never done a public scene.”

  “And I never will. Why can’t he leave us alone?”

  “He’ll stop eventually.”

  “When I’m celebrating my thirtieth birthday?”

  “Or I collar you.”

  “Huh?”

  “He won’t believe you’re truly comfortable in your role as my sub until he sees my collar around your neck.”

  “You know I find it demeaning.”

  “Why? It’s a symbolic sign of our commitment. Like a wedding band without the lace and flowers.”

  Holy shit. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

  “Think of it as a dress rehearsal.”

  I tried not to overreact, but oh my fucking God. “Are you serious?”

  “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you have any doubts about what we’re doing together?”

  Was this really happening? “None so far.”

  “Mull it over. Unlike a traditional marriage, this contract is renewable, which makes it more acceptable. I would never want a partner who didn’t share my love for the scene or who didn’t fulfill my needs. We may outgrow each other, or we might grow old together. In either case, a collaring is a significant moment in a D/s relationship, and I’d like to share it with you. You can always walk away if you feel we’re no longer right for each other.”

  “Just a minute… you’re freaking me out.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve never even said you lo―never mind.” I swallowed the word, embarrassed by my slipup.

  “Love has nothing to do with this,” Trent explained. “It’s more about two people working to bring out the best in each other while satisfying certain needs. We’ve got a special connection, Sloan. We’ve had it from the beginning.”

  I was too stunned to comment, but Trent took my silence for rejection and was immediately defensive. “Haven’t I shown you how much I care about you?”

  “Of course you have, but I associate commitment with love. I don’t know where I stand with you, Trent. We don’t live together, and you have yet to give yourself completely. There’s a part of you that’s closed off and guarded. You’ve never talked about your life in the military, and I know nothing about your childhood. My life is a fucking open book, and yours is a big mystery. I’m not making any kind of commitment until I know more about you.”

  “Suit yourself,” Trent said, pushing me away. “Don’t ever say I didn’t ask.”

  “Whoa! Is this a one-time offer? Take it or leave it kind of thing?”

  “It is what it is,” Trent said, obviously pissed off.

  I tackled him before he could leave the bed, laying him flat on his stomach with a loud grunt. Scrambling on top of him, I whispered in his ear. “You’re not playing fair, Master.”

  “I thought I was being very fair.”

  “Nuh-uh… you spring this on me out of nowhere. Christ! Don’t I even deserve some wining and dining? Every engagement has some kind of buildup and drama.”

  “What are you, a silly girl?” Trent grumbled.

  “No, just a hopelessly romantic boy,” I admitted. “Even if it’s only symbolic, the hearts and flowers would be appreciated.”

  “Oh, Sloan.” Trent sighed, untangling our limbs. He sat up and looked into my eyes for several minutes. “Okay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll bring you flowers and even sing you a serenade, but when it’s all said and done, I’d like to see my collar around your neck.”

  “Deal.”

  “Promise?”

  “With one condition.”

  “I knew it! Can’t you ever take anything at face value?”

  “I won’t accept your offer until you clear up the mystery and perhaps…you’ll let your guard down long enough for me to top.”

  “Is fucking me the only thing holding you back? You consider it some kind of test or challenge?”

  “Well, yes… I do. I have issues with men who aren’t flexible.”

  “Believe me, Sloan. I’m plenty flexible when I want to be.”

  “Good, then we have an understanding. Right?”

  “Have you forgotten who’s in charge?”

  “Oh, no, sir… you are for sure,” I teased.

  “You’re a brat.”

  “I am―take it or leave it.”

  Trent hauled me up against his chest and slanted his mouth over mine to stop my sassing. He kissed me forcefully and bit my lower lip for good measure. “You take it or leave it.”

  Chapter 4

  The lobby of the Walter B. Cook Funeral Home was appropriately somber and made me think of my mother. It had been over ten years since her death from cancer, but the cloying smell of flowers and the funereal organ music wafting through the speakers brought back a lot of memories and disturbed me more than I cared to admit. I supposed I would carry these feelings to my grave, and now Cole would be able to relate to the terrible void left by the passing of a parent. I was certain he was reeling from the multiple events of the last forty-eight hours. A father’s death and the birth of one’s children were momentous enough, and if Noriko’s attitude toward their contract had in fact changed, it would add a new element to Cole’s stress.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d receive from Cole’s family members. It had been nine months since our acrimonious breakup, and we’d had absolutely no contact. Our split had shocked everyone, yet no one in Cole’s family had bothered to pick up the phone to get my side of the story. God only knew what lies Ken had perpetuated, but I was about to find out if I was welcome or not.

  The room assigned to Ken was packed with mourners, and the Fujiwara women were easily recognizable in their appropriate black designer outfits. Cole’s three sisters, their daughters, and spouses surrounded Eileen in a protective huddle. The death of her husband had elevated her status to matriarch, and the retinue of family was appropriately deferential. I was relieved when she greeted me warmly.

  “Thank you for coming, Sloan.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said automatically. She embraced me and hung on for a few moments before moving to the next visitor. I looked around, hoping to spot Cole, but I was interrupted by my father, who appeared in front of me like a genie. He and Ken had been teammates with the San Francisco Giants and lifelong friends ever since. He crushed me against his chest and thumped me on the back.

  “Dad, when did you get here?” I exclaimed. “I could have met you at the airport.”

  “No worries, kid. How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. It’s Cole we need to worry about.”

 
“He looks awful,” Dad commented. “What in hell happened to him?”

  “I haven’t seen him in months.”

  “Probably why he looks like shit. I still can’t believe you guys broke up.”

  “Don’t start, Dad. It’s over.”

  “I don’t know, Sloan. He looks miserable.”

  “Ken was his best friend.”

  “I thought you were.”

  “So did I, but that’s another story for another day.”

  “Well, come on,” he said, taking me by the hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

  We headed toward the cluster of people near the open casket. I averted my eyes because I had no desire to look at Ken in death. I would never forgive him for manipulating Cole and destroying our relationship. Now it was too late to call him a conniving son of a bitch, and I refused to give him more than a passing glance. I was here for only one reason. Cole turned toward me the instant he felt my presence.

  “Sloan?”

  “I’m here,” I said, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Cole’s stoic façade fell apart as soon as he heard my voice. He could barely croak out the words of acknowledgment. It broke my heart to see him in such pain, and every protective instinct was immediately resurrected. I enfolded him in my arms and held him tightly against my chest.

  “There’s a small room over there,” Dad said, motioning toward a door marked Private. “Why don’t you guys see if it’s unoccupied?”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I held Cole’s hand and Freddie, his guide dog, greeted me with enthusiastic tail wagging. We headed away from the group, and when we stepped into the privacy of the small office, Cole fell apart. Freddie whined in sympathy, crouching closer. I gave him the hand signal to be still, and he plopped down, head resting on his front paws, and watched intently.

  The bond between Cole and his father had been completely severed by his untimely death, but there was nothing I could say to make it any easier. All I could do was support him and let him grieve. My eyes stung as I listened to him sob. Finally, he pushed me away. I noticed more strands of silver weaving through his dark hair and a new frown line between his eyebrows that hadn’t been there before. He was only thirty-four, but today, he looked closer to forty.

  “I’m sorry,” Cole mumbled, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. The gesture was so childlike it resonated, tugging on my inherent need to protect him. I drew him back into my arms and held his trembling body. He felt much thinner than I remembered. In fact, everything about Cole seemed different today except for my feelings, which continued to intensify.

  “You’ll be okay,” I said reassuringly.

  “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Cole said, sniffling against my shirt, “but I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

  “Shogun….” The old nickname snuck out before I realized it, and Cole let out a soft cry, crushing my mouth with a desperate kiss. I was too surprised to stop him, and my body betrayed me by rising to the occasion. What started out as pure comfort quickly escalated into complete madness as Cole and I ravaged each other with a hunger so fierce it obliterated good sense. Unadulterated lust triumphed over intellect, and soon Cole was plucking at my zipper and cussing in frustration when he couldn’t get it down fast enough. He straddled me and began to grind like a horny teen, while never taking his mouth off mine. I was sucked under by a riptide of hunger too powerful to escape. I joined in the frenzy, lifting my hips and grinding against him. The pressure to get off was intense, and it seemed that the only thing holding us back was the very real possibility of soiling our pants. Cole was desperate, however, and the begging and pleading were audible through the heated kisses. “Fuck me, Sloan. Please….”

  “Here?” I was horrified by his suggestion but inflamed by his obvious need.

  “Yes,” Cole insisted.

  I protested weakly, but when Cole slipped his hand into my trousers after finally getting the zipper to cooperate, I lost my mind. The familiarity of Cole’s fingers around my cock awakened old feelings, and I gave up trying to resist. Cole rooted around in his pocket with his free hand, pulled out a small tube of slick, and shoved it at me. “Here, use this.”

  I stopped thinking rationally and smeared lube over my traitorous organ, which stood at attention like a fricking Marine. Cole pushed down his pants and boxers in one swift move and leaned over the desk, offering his ass up invitingly.

  “Fuck me,” he urged. The sight of my former partner spread out and begging wantonly snuffed out the last of my willpower. Cole’s ass had always been one of his biggest draws, and lately I’d been having fantasies of sinking my cock in between his luscious cheeks. Trent, for all his sexual prowess, never allowed me to top, and here Cole was, offering so sweetly.

  I stood behind him and gripped his bare hip with one hand while my other lined up my cock head against his quivering hole. Slow and steady wasn’t in play right then. Instead, a frenetic need to possess him was the driving force behind my impulsive action. Cole let out a soft scream when I plowed into his tight channel and I covered his mouth so no one would barge into the room. As his body adjusted to the sudden intrusion, his cries of protest turned into pornographic moans of pleasure. Encouraged by his resilience, I fucked him with powerful strokes. Being sucked into Cole’s perfect bottom was achingly familiar, and I was transported into a time when we were younger, happier, and free of the bullshit that had torn us apart. Even if the entire planet had been on the brink of destruction, I was powerless to stop this.

  I knew there would be severe repercussions, but it wasn’t the time to think about them. My balls were intent on unloading every drop of semen deep within Cole’s body. Wrapping my hand around his cock, I got him off, just as I hit the wall and died the sweetest death.

  Cole sagged against the wooden desktop and grunted when I fell on him in a satisfied heap. We were connected for a few more minutes, but reality quickly set in, and the enormity of our actions hit me like a slap in the face. Cole moaned as if he were in pain.

  “Oh God, did I hurt you?” I asked, pulling out and straightening up my clothes. I looked at him, still bent over and naked, and could not believe what just happened. Fucking my former partner was bad enough, but doing it unprotected was irresponsible and selfish.

  “No,” Cole said, pushing away from the desk, “I’m okay.” He drew up his pants, but not before he plucked several tissues from the conveniently located box of Kleenex, thoughtfully placed by the management of the funeral home for sopping up copious tears. It worked equally well for cleaning up the semen dribbling out of his ass. Back in the Italian wool gabardine, Cole cinched the Gucci belt around his very slim waist, and ran his fingers through his hair. Once again he looked like the cool and collected professor I was accustomed to seeing.

  “Jesus, Cole. This was a horrible mistake.”

  “It wasn’t that awful, was it?”

  “What? No, it wasn’t,” I admitted, feeling even more guilty. “But I didn’t use a condom. What the hell were we thinking?”

  “I forced you.”

  I bleated out a hysterical laugh. “Are you serious? There was no way I was going to turn you down.”

  Cole grabbed my arm and held me in place. “I’m clean, Sloan. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Then we’re good.”

  “No, we’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “This should have never happened.”

  “Are you committed to this guy you’re with?”

  “Of course I am, although I haven’t a clue what he’ll do when I tell him what happened. He’ll either kill me or leave me.”

  “Then don’t tell him,” Cole challenged. “This was a spontaneous event, and you shouldn’t be held accountable.”

  I was completely blindsided by my loss of control, and his words were falling on deaf ears.

  “Let’s go outside,” Cole said, taking charge. “Hopefully no one heard us.�
��

  “Where’s whatshername?” I asked vaguely.

  “She had the babies by C-section and can’t move around yet.”

  “Too bad she didn’t die.”

  “Sloan.” Cole smirked. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

  I looked at Cole again, seeing him with new eyes. My comment would have been met with outrage nine months ago. Today, Cole thought it was funny. “You, on the other hand, seem quite different.”

  “Mistakes can be quite humbling,” Cole admitted.

  I was surprised by his statement because Cole rarely admitted he was wrong. It gave me a little bit of insight to his current state of mind, but instead of dwelling on it, I sought escape, separating from him as soon as we returned to the viewing room.

  Chapter 5

  I lit up the minute I hit the sidewalk, opting for some fresh air and nicotine before trying to make sense of what had just transpired. It was spontaneous, Cole had said. Don’t worry about it. But was it? Why would he come to his father’s viewing with lube in his pocket unless he was intent on seducing me? Cole’s motives would have to be explored at a later time. At the moment, my biggest concern was Trent.

  How in hell was I going to explain this? He’d practically proposed by offering to collar me, and I’d repaid him with this epic betrayal. What in the ever-loving fuck was I thinking? How could I have been tempted so easily after everything Cole had done? He’d lied, cheated, and dumped me like trash, and yet I’d hardly resisted. Was it the ego boost acting as the lure? Did the begging make it more enticing? Cole had been desperate enough to risk public exposure, something he’d never have considered in the past. Nonetheless, it was no reason to forget I was committed to a man who’d rescued me from my worst self and nurtured me for months.

  I’d made a huge mistake, and I had no idea how to make amends, or if it was even possible. Lying was not an option. I would never be able to carry it off because it wasn’t in my nature. I needed guidance on how to dig my way out of this hole. And just then, the solution rounded the corner. Max Leavitte―photographer, mentor, good friend, and former lover―raised an eyebrow when he saw me standing outside, braving the cold. If anyone could get me out of this terrible predicament, Max could. Trent respected and listened to him, being a fellow dominant, and Max might have some insight on how to best handle my revelation. If nothing else, he could act as a buffer between Trent and me.

 

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