True North (Compass series Book 4)

by Tamsen Parker

  I don’t blush often, but my face is flaming. The only person who’s ever called me out on this before was India, and it’s mortifying. My discomfiture is reflected in my reluctant mutter. “Yes. India’s already threatened dismemberment for that. I’ve been better.”

  “Good. And you’re going to be faultless on that front. Now that’s settled, let’s get down to business. Do you know anything about BDSM? Kink?”

  “Nothing outside what I’ve seen in porn.” If I weren’t so distracted, I might’ve thought better of telling this stranger that I watch porn, but my eyes have zeroed in on Rey’s feet propped on Matthew’s back again. And when my gaze drifts to Matthew’s face, his is not an expression of grin-and-bear-it, but something closer to peace. I might even say joy. He looks happy.

  “And that appealed to you?”

  I feel my forehead wrinkle while I formulate my answer. “Sort of. Not exactly. Not enough to have…”

  “Done anything about it?”

  “It didn’t look like something real people actually do.”

  “A lot of it’s not. But there are plenty of real people who are into kink. If you pass muster, I’d be happy to introduce you to some of them.”

  My gaze snaps to his face because the idea of involving anyone else in this is terrifying. I’m still a little sick to my stomach knowing I’ve put my reputation in the hands of people I don’t know from Adam.

  “Or not, if you’d prefer.”

  I nod. “Discretion is important. In my line of work…” My political career would be over in a New York minute if this got out.

  “I understand. It is in my line of work as well. Keeping private lives private is a matter of high stakes for most of my clients. Unless and until you give the word, this stays between you and me.”

  “You’re not even going to tell India I called?”

  He shakes his head. “The second you dial my number, you have an expectation of privacy. If she or anyone else asks me about you, I say, ‘Slade who?’”

  I understand then that Rey resting his feet on Matthew’s back wasn’t some absent-minded faux pas. He meant to do it, as I suspect he means to do everything. For however much I may like him—and I think I do—the man is calculating. I’ll have to remember never to play chess with him. Though I have to admit there’s a certain appeal to checkmating him on a board laid across Matthew’s narrow and willing back.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  Which is exactly what I find myself doing two weeks later.

  My game is atrocious and Rey is wiping the floor with me, one match after another, because I can’t keep my mind on moving the pieces around the board. I’m usually a formidable opponent, but A) Rey is a more skilled player than I am, which is not entirely shocking; and B) he’s likely accustomed to playing board games while using a person as furniture, whereas this is a new and somewhat unnerving experience for me. Awesome, yes, but distracting as all get out.

  I swear under my breath as Rey murmurs an almost-apologetic, “Checkmate.”

  I’m so preoccupied by the slight rise and fall of the board because of Matthew’s steady breaths that I’m only momentarily irritated and mortified. Mostly I’m studying the curve of Matthew’s wiry but strong shoulders and, as confused as it makes me, the slope of his ass as he balances our game on his slender back.

  Rey leans back against the tufted leather sofa he’s been perched on while schooling me. “Had enough?”

  I nod because, as much as I’ve been enjoying this, it’s probably not what he actually brought me here for. In fact, I’m sure of it. It’s my first meeting with him as his official client, which means the meter’s running. The outlandishly expensive meter. No wonder the man can afford his lavish home. I’d be ticked off about exactly how much this is costing me, except that he does provide a very particular service and I can’t imagine there are all that many Rey Walters in the world. Actually, the idea gives me chills. Hopefully, just the one.

  Rey eyes me from across the chessboard and then begins to pack our game away. “Mind if I make myself more comfortable?”

  As I say yes, I’m hoping this means he’ll be putting his feet where the board used to be. Lucky for me, it does. Unluckily, what follows is Rey staring at me for so long I feel the urge to pull one of the designer throw pillows over my face.

  “It’s time to go over your homework.”

  Ugh, yes, my assignment from the end of our last meeting. He’d instructed me to do some research and try to get a handle on some of the things I might like to try. Let’s just say it’s a good thing my mother is dead because even a fraction of the past two weeks’ search history would kill her. There are a lot of filthy things out there. And now Rey Walter is asking me to confess which of those filthy things I want to personally be involved in.

  Part of me wants to say none of them, storm out of the house, and forget I ever dialed his number. But we both know I’m not going to do that. Probably even Matthew, still as the table he’s impersonating under Rey’s feet, knows that. Rey laces his long fingers together across his abdomen and his eyebrows go up in invitation.

  After I take a deep breath so I won’t puke all over his fancy-ass carpet, I rattle off a list of the things I’ve seen that appeal the most. “Spanking, flogging, clamps, restraints, paddling, whipping, and—and…”

  “Say it, Slade. Come on. Not judging is why I get paid the big bucks. Whatever you’re thinking, I guarantee I’ve done things a hundred times worse. To people who enjoyed it and begged me to do it again. You’re among friends.”

  My throat squeezes tight in my body’s one last bid to keep this appalling desire to myself. And it fails.

  “I don’t know exactly what you’d call it. But when I was with India, she said something to me. She said, ‘There are people who are into that shit. Find them and mind-fuck them stupid.’ That’s what I want. I want to berate a woman. Tell her she’s stupid and worthless, embarrass her and make her cry. And when she’s all teary and red-faced, I want to fuck her. Tell her she’s dirty and disgusting. But I want her to like it.”

  I shake my head because that’s idiotic. India said it was true, but what if she was lying? Rey said he wouldn’t judge, but he must be rethinking his pledge. The idea of him wrinkling his nose and getting an appalled look on his face makes me want to sink through the floorboards. Just as I’m about to vomit the gin-and-tonic Matthew made for me when I arrived, Rey clears his throat.

  When I look up, it’s not to an expression of antipathy. If anything, he looks fonder of me than he ever has.

  “I’d be happy to help you with that, and you are most certainly not alone in that desire. I swear to you. Humiliation kink is a very real and valid thing. India was right. There are lots of people who enjoy either side of it, sometimes both. We’re going to find you someone who’s the yin to your yang so you can try it out. You’re going to learn how to do it responsibly, without hurting anyone. Including yourself. Promise.”

  It’s hard to explain the depth of gratitude I feel toward him, this man I barely know. India had said it, but I hadn’t quite believed her. Now there’s someone else adding to the chorus, telling me that, yes, this is a thing, you’re not alone, and I’m here to help. The relief is palpable. It still feels like a dream, though, so I verbally pinch myself.

  “You’re serious?”

  “I am. I could even show you if you like.”

  “Show me?” My voice is a croak, which is better than the other option of it cracking like a thirteen-year-old boy’s.

  “Yes. Matthew’s got a bit of a humiliation kink himself, don’t you, Matthew?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But—”

  Rey waves a careless hand. “It’s possible, given your behavior toward your colleagues, that I’d suspected this might be a thing for you. Hoped it might be, actually, because that’s something I can help you with.”

  Maybe that queasy feeling could go away. Some of the shame and the feeling like a monste
r. Yes, I’d like that very much.

  “So would you like a little demonstration?”

  “Now?”

  “If you think you’re ready.”

  “God, yes.”

  Rey’s mouth turns up at the corner. Score one for Rey Walter.

  Since I walked in the door, I’ve noticed he’s been more affectionate with Matthew than last time. It’s small things, like touching Matthew’s arm as he makes a request or more emphatic thanks when he’s done us a service. Subtle, but noticeable. I’m wondering if anticipating this kinky show-and-tell had something to do with that.

  Rey puts his feet on the floor, leans down, and places a hand on the back of Matthew’s neck. The man turns his head slightly, the better to hear Rey I’m assuming.

  “Are you ready, Matthew?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then kneel, please.”

  Matthew assumes the position, his back to me, hands in his lap.

  “We talked about the possibility of doing a humiliation scene for Slade’s edification, yes?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you’re still amenable?”

  Matthew shifts slightly, his butt grinding into his heels. “Yes, sir.”

  A warm smile spreads across Rey’s face, a look that makes it clear how much he cares about Matthew—this man he’s about to humiliate, allegedly for Matthew’s pleasure. What other rules don’t apply anymore? Gravity is still a thing, right?

  “Good. I promise to adhere to our standard limits on humiliation play, and this will be a relatively mild scene. You have your usual safewords, and if you’d like Slade to leave at any time, say the word and he will. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Then clear our glasses, please, and when you come back, do it on your knees.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rey strokes his thumb behind Matthew’s ear, then leans farther in and kisses or nips at his neck. From this angle, I can’t quite tell. Whichever it is, Matthew practically purrs and then rises to his feet, collects the glasses and pitcher of water, and removes them on a tray.

  When he’s gone, Rey turns to me. “Ground rules. Your role here is to watch. You’re not to participate in any way. Humiliation is edge play for Matthew, and while he’s given his full consent to have you as a witness and he’ll be fine, you need to respect his boundaries. If he asks for you to leave at any point, you’ll do it with no questions and no hesitation. If you violate his trust or disrespect this gift he’s giving you, you can’t imagine the hurt I will rain down upon you. Are we clear?”

  “Yes.”

  His fierce protectiveness of Matthew at once scares the living crap out of me and endears Rey to me more. He’s right that I probably can’t imagine what he’d do to me if I harm his charge, but I recognize, respect, and like the care he takes of Matthew. That’s how I’d felt about Pressly, and it makes me feel as though these dual urges—to hurt and humiliate versus protect and look after—aren’t mutually exclusive. Perhaps there’s the tiniest possibility that I’m not so fucked up after all.

  “Humiliation play isn’t always erotic, but for Matthew it is, so at the end of the scene, there will likely be some kind of sex. You’re welcome to stay or excuse yourself if it makes you uncomfortable. When we’re done, Matthew will require some aftercare. You can witness that as well or go into the kitchen or the living room or downstairs to the dungeon, wherever you feel most comfortable, and I’ll find you when we’re finished to debrief. Okay?”

  I’m not sure about the sex, what with the whole dudes-not-being-my-bag thing, but I am curious about the aftercare. That I’d like to see, and watching another guy get fucked might be worth the price of admission. I can always change my mind. “Yes.”

  Rey gestures to a leather loveseat kitty corner from where he’s sitting. “You’ll have a better view from there.”

  I almost trip in my rush to the proffered seat. I don’t even have to think about it. I want to see how this is done, the expressions on Matthew’s face. As soon as I’ve planted myself on the small couch, Matthew makes his way into the room on hands and knees. He’s still clothed, his customary white linen shirt hanging down and his regulation khakis providing a negligible barrier between his knees and the hardwood floor.

  Rey shifts, and it’s as though he becomes a different person. His angles seem harsher, his expression unyielding. Even to me, who he’s no longer paying a lick of attention to, he feels dangerous and forbidding. I can only imagine what this is doing to Matthew.

  “At my feet, you useless piece of trash.”

  I swallow hard. Rey has cut right to the chase.

  Matthew does as he’s been bid, coming to a stop in front of Rey.

  “Sit back on your heels and look at me.”

  The kneeling man’s movements are graceful, and he looks picture-perfect as he comes into position.

  “That was sloppy. Forehead and palms to the floor and do it again.”

  Matthew’s skin is a light enough brown that I can see the flush gather in his cheeks. He turns a ruddy shade of pink that pings some pleasure center of my brain. Rey makes him repeat the motion half a dozen times. And to be honest, each instance looks identical to me beyond the quickening of Matthew’s breath.

  “Do you really think that piss-poor performance is worthy of me? Your shoddy presentation is downright insulting, but I don’t have all day to spend on trying to improve you. It’d be time wasted anyhow since you can’t hold a damn thing in that pea-sized brain of yours. What do you keep in that empty head? Huh?”

  Rey reaches out and cuffs him, Matthew cringing at even the light blow. My insides are knotted, and my thoughts are muddled. This is profoundly uncomfortable—I’m a much bigger fan of being the one to scold and degrade—but also such a fucking turn-on. And judging by the healthy bulge at the front of Matthew’s slacks and the way he’s practically drooling, I’m not the only one finding it so. Even though he seems distraught, on some level, he likes this. I love that he does.

  “Did you even remember to sort the files I left on your desk?”

  A wide-eyed look of panic on Matthew’s part says, no. No, he did not.

  “No, sir. I—”

  “Save your excuses, you pathetic excuse for an assistant. Some days I think I’d be better off without you altogether. What the fuck do I pay you for if you can’t even get the most basic of tasks completed? Get them. You’re going to sort them right now because apparently you can’t be trusted to do anything without my direct supervision.”

  If I’m not mistaken—and I’m so flustered that I might be because they’re doing this right in front of me and holy hell is it fucking incredible—there seems to be a flash of anticipation, eagerness that flits over Matthew’s features. Like he was expecting this, looking forward to it, and now it’s being handed to him. “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you waiting for, you indolent halfwit? Go.”

  Matthew and I cringe in unison before he scurries out of the room on his hands and knees. As soon as he’s in the hall, Rey seems to realize I’m still here.

  “You should know that Matthew is excellent at his job, and I’d be lost without him. I’ll tell him so repeatedly and emphatically when this is over. Those files are props I left on his desk for this demonstration. We have a strict understanding that if he’s actually disappointed me in some way, it is not fodder for humiliation scenes. I think the disgrace might literally kill him. That’s something especially important to negotiate with anyone you might play with. There’s a fine but very important line in humiliation play between getting someone hot and harming them. It’s one you should do your utmost not to cross. That kind of breach of trust is difficult to recover from.”

  I nod, storing that little tidbit away in my brain in a file labeled essential, repeating it to myself until Matthew arrives on the threshold with a stack of manila folders between his teeth. Once again, Rey’s manner changes from patient instructor to merciless hardass. />
  “Why on god’s green earth did that take you so long, you apathetic loafer? Christ.”

  “I’m so sorry, sir, I—”

  “I don’t want your ham-fisted apologies. I want you to do your fucking job. So do it. No hands.”

  Matthew’s eyes grow wider and his face gets redder, and then he breathes out in a way that could be pained or so turned on he’s having trouble processing it. “Yes, sir.”

  And then we watch while Matthew uses his teeth and his nose to grip and nudge the files around into some kind of order. Throughout, Rey tells him he’s slovenly and inept. I can see Matthew’s eyes glisten with tears, but he’s also still sporting a pretty serious hard-on.

  When he’s done to Rey’s reluctant satisfaction, Rey orders him to kneel before him.

  “Go on and jerk yourself, you lazy fuck. If you can’t be bothered to do your job, I can’t be bothered to get you off.”

  Matthew’s chest caves in as he sinks teeth into his bottom lip and groans. He reaches for the top button of his pants, but Rey tsks at him and shakes his head.

  “You want to put in a half-assed performance, you’re going to get a half-assed orgasm. You’re going to rub this one out through your pants, and when you come, you’re going to feel the hot, sticky mess you made. It’s going to cool on your skin while you suck me off and remind you of what a goddamn disappointment you are. Get to it before I change my mind about letting you get off at all.”

  Matthew doesn’t hesitate but cups his hand around his dick and lets out a low moan as he rubs.

  “You’re not going to get off like that and you know it. Go ahead, you nasty boy, fuck your hand like you really want to.”

  This time the noise that escapes Matthew is more of a high-pitched, desperate whine than a moan, but if I were to guess, he sounds like he’s not all that far off. I prove to be right because in a couple of minutes, he’s pitching forward, an arm wrapped around his mid-section while he squeezes the bulge in his pants and cries out.