by Leah Blake
Marcus headed up to the road, closing in on Trevor. He kept his chin up, his gaze focused on his target, until Trevor finally turned his shaded eyes toward him. He couldn’t help the lick of disappointment when Trevor’s shoulder’s stiffened and the serene expression that resided over his handsome face melted into something blank, uncertain. His square jaw worked, the hollows of his cheeks enhanced by the deepening and lightening of shadows with each grind of his teeth. The sharp slope of his nose led down to his flared nostrils.
Is he frightened to see me?
Marcus stopped a few feet away and took a sip of his water, reveling in the few moments that bought him to give Trevor a thorough once over in the sunlight. He was even more beautiful outside of the red lights of his playroom on Midnight.
“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here, Trevor,” Marcus said. Trevor shifted, turning his head away and stabbing at Marcus’s heart. The man licked his lips, a light rose dusting his cheeks. “I’ll admit. This is the last place I’d ever think to bump into you.”
Marcus dared a glance at the man’s crotch. His jeans bulged despite Trevor’s shifting and obvious attempt to hide his reaction. That might be a good sign.
“It’s been a long time,” Marcus continued.
Trevor finally turned his face back to Marcus. “Yes. It has.”
Marcus was careful to step around the subject of money in hopes of not offending his skittish sub. “Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?”
“No.” Trevor shook his head, his thick hair brushing over his forehead in mussed waves. The natural rich honey hues that wove through the strands glowed beneath the sunlight. Marcus’s fingers curled, refraining him from brushing those locks aside. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Trevor’s discomfort was torture to Marcus. This simple banter about nothing was barely scraping the layers of what five years of absence put down between them. The desire to know why Trevor ran away rose with a fury, another battle he fought inside to keep from blurting the obvious out.
Don’t push him. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk to you.
A final nail that curved through all four chamber of his heart with the fierce strike of a hammer. Marcus nodded once, packing away this new pain as he prepared to leave.
“Well, enjoy your time here. It’s a lovely place,” Marcus said, unable to keep a tinge of sadness from seeping into his words. He took another drink of his water, moistening his dry throat, and stepped by Trevor. He paused, glancing at the collar. “I hope you have been granted a good Dom.”
Trevor’s hand raised to the leather piece around his neck, his finger running over the gold tag.
“It was nice to see you, Trevor. You look wonderful.”
Marcus stepped onto the road, not bothering to slip his shoes back on. The excitement he clung to coming into this weekend drizzled away, leaving a foreboding black hole in its stead. Hell, he had two more nights with Trevor on Midnight. Two more nights that would surely turn the tables on him and deliver a douse of punishment unto his withering heart.
He walked away, Marc. What made you think he came back here looking for you?
“Fucking fool,” he muttered into his glass, wishing he had taken the bartender up on his alcoholic suggestion.
Chapter Five
Trevor couldn’t find words when his eyes landed on Marcus. At first, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The man had always been a gorgeous creation, starting with his chestnut hair that he’d let grow out, his strong facial features that many often thought sidled up alongside severe, down to his well-shaped chest and abs that he didn’t bother hiding beneath his button-down shirt.
His reaction was full body and instantaneous. The tremors coursing through his muscles were subtle, but left him standing in a swaying sea of uncertainty. His gut knotted, and for a moment he would’ve sworn it shot into his throat. The exhilaration that filled him burst into a rain of nervous doubt. Marcus Stark, a man who exuded power and strength and cunning with every step, every movement, every look, poured all of that onto him as he approached.
And the overwhelming regret that pummeled Trevor when he noted the broken tone of Marcus’s voice lodged a ball deeper in his throat with the threat of tears stinging his eyes.
There was so much he wanted to say, to ask, to beg for, and none of it came out. None. It was as if the collar choked him, forbidding him to speak with anyone other than his Master, however silly that was. Then Marcus said his farewell, and as he walked by, anxiety set in.
“My one chance,” he murmured. Yes, this was his chance to set things straight with a man who he had loved with all the emotion in the world. A man he still loved. A man he had emptied his savings for in hopes of finding him on this out-of-his-league pleasure island. The whole reason I came here.
Trevor spun around, searching for Marcus. The road lay empty except for a few guests bicycling down from the bungalows. He waited for them to pass before heading away from his accommodations, toward Breakers and the heavier-populated portion of the island.
He came to a halt when he reached the end of the beach and raked a hand through his hair.
“Shit.” He turned back, scouring the road, the picturesque lining of trees and brush, and groaned. “Where are you?”
He stopped another biker as she headed up the slope to the bungalows. “Excuse me? Did you see a man in khakis and a white shirt with long brown hair on your way up?”
The woman came off the seat and straddled the frame, steadying her from the sudden stop. She snagged a drink from a water bottle and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
“I haven’t.” She pointed the bottle toward the tree line. “You must be a first-timer. Sinn has a dozen or so trails that cut through the greenery, connecting this side with the west side. Your friend might’ve taken a short cut.”
Trevor squinted through his shades, following the edge of the island jungle. “You’d think they’d mark them better.”
“Something you learn the more you come.” She leaned closer to Trevor. “Right beside that heliconia plant. That’s where one path starts. Oh, and don’t spook if you cross an iguana. They’re big suckers but completely harmless.”
“Thanks.”
Trevor jogged over to the colorful flowering bush that hid a narrow, cleared path. He didn’t slow his pace along the uneven terrain until he caught the first sign of movement between the leaning trunks of the palms. Steadying the quickened beat of his heart and the sudden onset of nerves, he slowed to a fast walk, eyes on the figure moving stealthily along the path like a man who controlled this exotic environment.
“Marcus,” he called out before doubt had any chance to strangle him. Marcus slowed down and turned, his shaded eyes hiding the core of his expression, which appeared damn stoic and unfazed. Trevor stepped up to him, hands fisted by his sides to hold back the fiery burn to kiss the man and beg for forgiveness.
Marcus lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and stared at him through dark blue eyes. Trevor swallowed down the memories of those eyes, how they darkened to navy when emotions claimed his lover or how they lightened, if only a little, with playfulness. He spent hours loving to look into Marcus’s eyes, his soul, the inspiration for his art in so many paintings.
“Back there. I wasn’t expecting to see you and, well, it kinda caught me off guard,” Trevor sputtered. He bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut for a split second. No, idiot. “What I mean is, I didn’t come here to vacation. I’m here because I was hoping to find you here, too.”
“You struck deep, didn’t you?” Marcus asked, making a slight motion to his own neck. Trevor shifted, ignoring the tightness the collar produced with each bolus of anxiety.
“I didn’t know where to start, but I remembered how things used to be and figured I’d give it a try.”
Damn, his face was burning under the piercing scrutiny of his former lover. His closeness, however, left his cock throbbing against the zipper of his jeans, craving to indulge in
what they once shared.
“I didn’t mean to come off rude, but seeing you again…” Trevor groaned, fisting a hand in his hair. He was never good at speaking under pressure. Leveling his gaze with Marcus, he said, “I’m so sorry about everything.”
“How did you know to come here? It’s not a road trip away,” Marcus pressed, taking a single step closer to Trevor. A good four or five feet still hung between them, but the short gap that Marcus struck away was enough to surround Trevor with the dominating thrum of Marcus’s presence.
Trevor licked his lips, warmth creeping up his neck. “I nosed around a little. A friend of a friend.”
“And how did this ‘friend of a friend’ know of my business on Sinn? Identities are meant to be kept secret here.”
Trevor snorted and rolled his eye to the vibrant green canopy of fronds and the denser casuarinas overhead. “You haven’t been the most inconspicuous as of late. You’ve been a pretty hard partier, hitting headlines in tabloids and such. It wasn’t that difficult to track you down once I knew for certain where to look.”
“And your hunt led you to a private island in the Caribbean that hosts risqué and taboo parties for the wealthy, and provides a private sanctuary for those of high society to let loose their desires and indulge.” Another step. The air turned dense and hard to breathe. Trevor refused to step back, even though the sharp edges of Marcus’s personality glimmered in the outer rings of his irises. “What are your desires, Trevor?” He flicked the tag on the collar, his lips curling back. “Did you find it last night?”
Trevor stared at him for a long moment, trying to breathe. Marcus’s voice dipped low, liquid gravel creeping down his spine. That tone, sexually charged and alive…He recognized it.
My Master.
Trevor blinked, thankful for the sunglasses still covering his eyes. Marcus was his Master. This man standing before him, the man who owned him heart and soul off this island, owned him for the next two nights on Sinn.
He bit back the urge to divulge Marcus in this knowledge. If he did, he’d break two bold-and-underlined rules of Breakers—anonymity and privacy.
Maybe I’m wishing for too much. Maybe he isn’t my Master.
“It depends on the aspect you ask,” Trevor finally said, his voice thick with his mounting arousal.
One last step. They stood toe-to-toe, the narrow space between them pulsing with unspent energy. In five years of separation, one thing never died. The raw desire and carefully restrained urgency still hummed as loud and clear as it had during their year-long relationship.
“You, Trevor, are claimed by a Dom. You know what that means, right?” Marcus asked, raising his brows. Trevor nodded once, noting the challenge that lay beneath the man’s expression.
“I belong to another while on the island.”
“Very good. So you standing here with me can cause a major dilemma if your Dom catches you.”
“What if my Dom is you?” Trevor couldn’t stop himself before the words spilled out of his mouth. He wanted to know if Marcus was his Master, and if he could give himself over completely once night fell.
Marcus’s eyes darkened, and a dangerous curl came to the corners of his mouth.
God, I want to kiss you. I want to taste your mouth again.
“Then your Dom has found you and knows you breached agreement.”
Marcus stepped back, pivoted, and started up the path. Trevor stumbled back into a palm tree, breath flooding his lungs and leaving him lightheaded. No, that’s Marcus. All Marcus. He lifted his gaze to the man as he disappeared along the windy path, wondering if he was wrong in hoping Marcus was his Master.
Dilemma or not, he didn’t come this far, leaving himself thousands of dollars poorer, to watch Marcus walk away. He’d fucked up leaving Marcus, and wanted to rectify whatever pain he had caused. He’d suffered long enough with the haunting memories of his former lover before that fateful day that started with a knock on his apartment door and ended with his heart ripping from his chest as he left San Francisco for good.
He started after Marcus, but slowed a few feet into his pursuit. He had entered into an agreement by accepting the collar and the phone. He would not engage with any other man or woman while owned by his Master. Yes, the collar choked him, but not only his voice. It choked his desire to catch up to Marcus. It choked his plans, and he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure Marcus was his Master.
Resigning to giving up his chase, he headed back to his bungalow. His heart burned, his soul ached, and he needed solace. Hopefully, his Master would leave his phone silent for a few hours more.
Right now, he wanted to lose himself in a brand-new canvas and oil colors.
Chapter Six
The floor came out from under him the moment the text sank in. Agreement was terminated, Sir. He returned your belongings an hour ago.
Marcus growled, dropping his phone on the table. No wonder Trevor hadn’t returned his text. The man already relinquished his role.
“Why?” Marcus asked, which earned him two curious sets of eyes. He rubbed his face with his palms and stood up.
“Everything okay, brother?” Alex asked. “You’ve seemed a little off since your hunt for recognition.”
“Everything’s fine.” He snatched his phone and headed toward the office door. “I’ll be back. You can hold it down, right?”
He was in the hallway and closing the door before his brothers had a chance to answer. The bass reverberating through the building added to the steady thunder against his eardrums. The night was still early, but a healthy dose of patrons filled Temptation.
He descended the Plexiglas stairs, his mind set on one goal as he shouldered through guests. The guards pulled open the door as he stormed out of Breakers, ignoring their rehearsed farewell at his back. The small group approaching the club parted as he drove straight through without a care to perception or politeness, reaching his personal ATV. With a turn of the key and a fierce twist of the throttle, he took off down the roadway he and his brothers had laid across the five-mile expanse of island.
Marcus reached the small bungalow in record time, and without mowing down club-goers. He sucked in a calming breath before crossing the short porch and knocking on the door. A full, torturous minute went by with no answer. He knocked again. Impatience challenged his carefully constructed calm. He moved to the closest window and peeked through the open shutters. The bungalow—a one-bedroom abode with a sitting room and bathroom—lay empty, but one item caught his attention.
Trevor’s portfolio case lay on the small coffee table in the sitting room, a tray of oil paints beside it. A few slots were empty.
Painting. Trevor’s hobby and, ultimately, his escape when he felt overwhelmed. But where?
Sinn could be a painter’s wet dream with all the different features, from the lagoons and plant life, to the fountain Julian had designed to produce serene waterfalls down the hillside into the swimming hole.
If Trevor still enjoyed solitude while working, there were only a few places that might provide him that comfort.
Marcus headed off to the north side of the island, hoping that maybe he was at the lookout. Instead, he found a handful of couples having fun as the waves lapped at the rocky side. He checked the small alcoves on lower ground with no luck. After prowling beaches, yacht docks, and sitting areas in the midst of some of the most beautiful flowers, he headed to the south side, the swimming hole, with high doubts.
As he approached the natural pool surrounded by rock and foliage, the soothing spill of water touched his ears. He cut the engine on the ATV and cl off the seat, taking in the shimmering glow of the silver moonlight against the falling water and clear pool. White crests splashed over the rock wall, creating a consistent ebb and flow of water into the natural pool.
The hot spot of the island was empty. Marcus wove through the trees, making his way closer to the waterfalls, searching the darkened area for Trevor. Climbing across the small stream and coming down the other si
de of the pool, he spotted the flickering of candles and the soft beam of a flashlight. He slowed, narrowing his eyes against the shadowed darkness. His heartbeat sped up, snatching his breath. A long lost nostalgia overcame him, weakening him at the knees.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the man as he worked. Each stroke of his brush, each layer of color, flooded him with memories of slipping into Trevor’s art studio and sitting in the back corner, completely captivated by his lover’s ability to project something beautiful from mind to canvas. Trevor always sank into a different state of mind, the soft bristles moving effortlessly, leaving paint in a precise spot.
The candles on the uneven surface of a rock were flameless and provided little light. Trevor held the small flashlight between his lips. The canvas rested against his bent legs. Despite the obvious discomfort, none of it seemed to affect the man as he created art with fluidity and grace.
Marcus crept down to where dirt met rock and the trees and plants no longer grew. He turned off his ringer on the cell and settled down to watch this long lost magic, soak in this long lost peace, and enjoy his long lost Trevor.
Time coasted by, and never once did he tire of Trevor. The man took breaks to give his jaw a rest from holding the flashlight, but only stared off at the distant ocean. When he returned to the painting, Marcus couldn’t help but relive their happier days. His body came alive, his flesh sensitive to every whisper of a breeze, reacting as if Trevor painted him and not that canvas.
Marcus closed his eyes, recalling the way Trevor’s fingers used to skim over his chest, his stomach, his legs. His kiss filled him with more love and passion than he thought any human deserved.
When those hands stroked his cock, they were fluid and rhythmic, steady in bringing him to his peak only to let him simmer for a short time until his mouth took over and sucked his seed from his balls.