by K. C. Wells
“My—” Heath’s eyes were huge. “We haven’t done that before.”
Xavier snickered. “I wouldn’t let that concern you, especially as you won’t be in it for long.”
Heath got up from the couch. “Thanks for coming over. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay. Another time?”
Xavier nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and put it on. “I hope the rest of the week is good for you.” He kissed Heath on the cheek, not missing the pained look in his eyes. Heath’s addictive kisses would have to wait.
Xavier walked down the staircase and through the shop, noting how much care Heath had put into every bit of decor. He can’t lose this. It would break his heart.
Xavier had to find a way to make sure that didn’t happen.
They parted at the door, Heath holding on to Xavier’s hand as they said goodbye. Then he was out of there, hurrying to where he’d left the car. He tried not to look at the shop windows, some of which were empty, their Closing Down Sale banners still in place. He told himself that it didn’t matter if the area was crying out for rejuvenation.
There had to be another way to break this particular nut, apart from hitting it with a thousand-pound wrecking ball.
Chapter Nineteen
THE ROOM was set out in a similar way to the previous one, with one exception—straps protruded from under the mattress at each corner, all ending in a solid ring of steel. The straps had been laid at the edges, standing out against the white sheet that covered the black vinyl.
“Malcolm’s bedroom, I take it?” Heath glanced around, but there were no implements lying around. No clue as to Xavier’s intentions.
The anticipation thrilled him, and he found it hard to stand still. He’d thought of nothing else all day, and when Xavier arrived to pick him up, it had taken all Heath’s efforts to maintain some degree of control.
Standing there, seeing that bed, those straps? Control went out the window.
Xavier handed him a plastic bag. “Your costume, as promised.”
His heart pounding, Heath reached into it and removed….
“It’s a nightshirt.” An old-fashioned, white cotton nightshirt that would probably come down to his knees. It had seen better days, because there was evidence of wear and tear on the collar and along the hem. “I’d say you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, but it doesn’t look like you went to much in the first place,” he quipped.
Xavier grinned. “What all the best manservants are wearing to bed these days.” He tapped it with his finger. “And that is all you’ll be wearing.”
Heath looked him up and down. “How come you’re not in costume?” Xavier wore a belted pair of jeans, a shirt, and black boots.
That grin hadn’t slipped a single notch. “Trust me. I have all the costume I’ll need.”
“And….” Heath took a breath. He knew it was stupid to be nervous, that Xavier wouldn’t be angry at the idea, but he’d been thinking about it ever since that night when he’d fucked Xavier. “Will anything else change? I mean… will there still be… condoms?” He knew his status. He’d even brought his latest test results to show Xavier. And the way Heath felt about him, he didn’t want anything between them.
Especially latex.
When Xavier’s grin faded, something in Heath’s belly roiled. That is not good.
“This is something we need to talk about,” Xavier said after a moment’s silence, “but not when we’re literally about to do a scene. You need to work on your timing,” he joked.
His attempt at humor didn’t soften the blow. And it felt like a blow.
Xavier cupped Heath’s cheek. “I’m not saying no,” he said softly. “I’m just saying not today. Okay?”
Heath nodded, doing his best to push down hard on his disappointment. Negativity was not a good precursor to a scene, after all, and he needed to focus on that.
“Now, get into your costume, while I wait outside. Then I want you in bed. Malcolm’s had a long day, and he’s fast asleep.” Xavier locked gazes with him. “Remember. If at any time you want me to stop, you—”
“Use my safeword, yes, I know.” Heath pulled himself up to his full height. “Okay. Time for you to go so I can get changed. Not that you haven’t seen everything I’ve got,” he added with a smile.
Xavier leaned in and whispered, “Indeed I have. Every inch of you. Up close and personal.” He straightened and left the room.
His words sent a pleasurable shudder through Heath. He undressed quickly, placed all his clothes neatly folded on a chair, then slipped on the nightshirt. The fabric was soft against his skin. Heath pulled back the sheet and got under it, lying in the center of the bed, doing his best to get into character, while his heartbeat raced at the thought of what was to come.
The door opened and Heath tensed beneath the sheet, his eyes squeezed tight shut. Each footstep across the floor sent vibrations through the bed, and the urgency of it all jolted through Heath like electricity.
Suddenly the sheet was torn from his body and a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him roughly. “Wake up, you ingrate!”
Heath blinked groggily. “My lord?”
Xavier towered over the bed, glaring down at him, his chest bare, his hands clenched. “How dare you? Do you think I didn’t notice?”
Heath sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t understand, my lord. What’s wrong? What am I supposed to have done?”
Xavier let out a loud, derisive snort. “Playing the innocent will not help you. I watched you this evening.” He pulled the sheet from the bed, leaving Heath sitting there.
There was such a feeling of genuine menace that Heath’s heartbeat sped up. “Sir, I swear to you. I’ve done nothing that you could find such fault with.”
“Then that was not you speaking with Lord Falsham? That was not you promising to consider his proposal? Do not think about lying to me. Every word you uttered this night was overheard and relayed to me by someone who is obviously more loyal than you have been.”
God, he’s good at this. Heath was mesmerized by Xavier’s performance, his heart pounding as though the threat of danger was real. “I… I spoke with Lord Falsham, this is true. And he did ask me to consider coming to work in his household. I did not refuse him, as I did not want to anger him, and thereby you, sir. I merely told him I’d consider it to make him leave me alone.” He swallowed. “I swear, I have no wish to leave your service, my lord.”
Xavier grabbed the nightshirt at Heath’s neck. “How dare you lie to me!”
Heath gasped as Xavier pulled savagely and the garment was rent in two. Xavier continued to rip the nightshirt into pieces in front of him, tearing it into long strips. Heath gaped at him, in awe of his strength—until he realized that what he’d seen earlier was not wear and tear, but deliberate cuts made to the nightshirt to facilitate this act.
Heath wanted to tell Xavier how amazing he was, except being in character meant that was out of the question. Xavier’s eyes blazed, and Heath trembled, as if for the first time he was truly aware of Xavier’s size and power. And oh my God, the feeling of having clothing ripped from his body was heady.
“Time for me to deliver a lesson in obedience.” Xavier pointed to the bed. “Lie facedown.”
Heath nodded and did as instructed. Xavier grabbed him by the wrist and tied a piece of the torn nightshirt around it before tying the other end to one of the corner rings, stretching out Heath’s arm. Then he moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the action, so both Heath’s arms were restrained.
“You are going to lie here and take your punishment,” Xavier ground out. “And in the morning, you will pack your bags and leave this house forever.” He leaned in, his breath warm on Heath’s ear. “But not until I have made you scream,” he said in a low voice.
Then he was gone, and Heath lay there shivering—until Xavier grabbed his ankle and tied it to the bed straps, repeating it with Heath’s remaining leg unti
l he lay spread-eagle. Heath tested his range of movement and found there to be very little.
He was at Xavier’s mercy.
The bed dipped slightly as Xavier climbed onto it. There came a sound that Heath recognized instantly—the metallic click of a buckle being unfastened, followed by the soft swoop of a belt being pulled through all the loops and removed entirely.
He’s not going to….
“Have you ever had a belt taken to your backside?”
Oh fuck, he is.
Heath managed to keep his voice fairly even, with only the slightest suggestion of a tremor. “No, my lord.” He tensed his body, awaiting the first blow, unsure of how sharp the pain would be. He’d known that pain would be involved—hell, it had been his idea—and they’d discussed it, but now that he was lying there….
Then Heath remembered to breathe. That’s what safewords are for.
Xavier snapped the belt, and Heath knew that was for his benefit. “Then this will be a memorable experience.”
There was a sharp pain as the belt connected with his arse, and Heath sucked in a breath. But instead of another, he felt Xavier’s hand on his arsecheek, rubbing over the area. A warm, tingly feeling radiated out from the spot, spreading everywhere.
The greatest shock was that Heath liked the sensation.
He gave a nod, hoping Xavier would get the message that it was okay to continue. Above him, Xavier’s voice rolled out, deep and forbidding, preceded by a cackle.
“I hope you don’t think that is all you’re getting.” Another sharp connect, and this time Heath breathed through it, amazed by the clarity of thought that dwelt within the pain. Again, the warm sensation followed, and his body was suddenly, zingingly alive. He let out a soft cry, and Xavier leaned over.
Anxious to relieve his fears, Heath turned his head toward Xavier and smiled.
Xavier appeared to forget his character for a second and bent low to kiss Heath gently on the lips. “Beautiful boy,” he whispered before resuming his position.
Heath had never felt so… amazing.
The blows continued, and although Heath was losing track of time, he knew Xavier wouldn’t let them go on too long. When he came to a halt, what followed was a gentle, careful rub of Xavier’s hands over his arsecheeks. The longer stretch of blows had built up the effect, and the stinging pain dissipated, replaced by a sensation that was almost orgasmic but which lingered.
Then cool slickness penetrated his hole, and Heath groaned at the feel of those long fingers.
“That’s all you get,” Xavier ground out, removing his fingers. “I want you to feel every inch of this cock as I enter you. And I intend on using this hole until I am spent.”
Heath ignored the familiar sounds of preparation, already thinking about what was to come. He’d hoped for an outcome such as this, to be roughly taken, and after that encounter with Xavier’s belt, he was shockingly alive and ready for the fucking of his life. There was only one way it could have been bettered, but there seemed little point in focusing on what he couldn’t have.
Xavier gripped his arse and spread his cheeks, and finally there was that hard heat inside him, slowly penetrating him until Xavier’s dick was fully sheathed in Heath’s body. At the first long, powerful thrust, when Xavier’s body connected with Heath’s backside, Heath knew it would not be long before he came.
What he had no idea of, however, was how long Xavier could keep going.
The anticipation was delicious.
XAVIER PROPPED himself up, his hands on either side of Heath’s prone body, and speared that tight hole again and again. He spread his legs wide and thrust deep, driving his cock down into glorious heat. The noises escaping from Heath’s lips spurred him on, and he slammed into that round arse, Heath’s flesh rippling from the impact.
But this isn’t right.
Xavier faltered in his rhythm but recovered quickly, pushing aside the thought. He drove harder into Heath’s body, listening as Heath’s groans increased.
But you’re lying to him, even if it’s simply lying by omission.
The last thing Xavier needed right then was an inner voice telling him he’d fucked up. Especially a voice that was fucking up his rhythm.
He pulled free of Heath’s body, grabbed the belt, and snaked it under Heath’s waist. Then he yanked on it, raising Heath’s hips up off the bed and tilting that arse. “That’s it. You can get on your knees, just about.” Xavier aimed his cock and plunged into Heath’s gaping hole, then pulled tight on the belt, socking his body up against Xavier’s groin. He got a better grip on the belt and used it to propel Heath back onto his dick.
“Oh fuck,” Heath moaned, his shaft solid, his balls high and tight.
Xavier seemed to be having the opposite problem. His dick had lost some of its rigidity. What the fuck? He closed his eyes and envisaged Heath on his back, those eyes locked on Xavier’s, waiting for him to slide deep into him….
Those eyes that seemed to say, “What are you not telling me, Xavier? Why couldn’t you say you loved me?”
That was all it took to have Xavier’s erection give up the ghost.
He changed to short, quick thrusts, but it had little effect, and he knew he couldn’t come like that. Exasperated, Xavier pulled free of Heath’s body and reached between Heath’s legs to wrap his fingers around that hard shaft. One, two, three tugs, and Heath shot all over the black vinyl. As Heath trembled from the onslaught of his orgasm, Xavier quickly untied his bonds, then lay beside him, holding him, cognizant of the need for aftercare. Heath’s arse was red, but Xavier hadn’t raised any welts.
Heath slipped his arms around Xavier’s body and held on to him, his face pressed into the hollow of Xavier’s neck. “That was….” A shiver trickled its way through him.
Xavier tensed, waiting for some reference to his lack of orgasm, but nothing appeared forthcoming. He kissed Heath’s forehead and cheeks before finally reuniting with his lips, and Heath returned the kiss.
“We can stay here like this as long as you like. No rush,” Xavier told him quietly.
“Oh, good.” Heath snuggled up to him. “Because I’m not sure my legs are up to much right now.”
“How do you feel?”
“Warm. It’s… hard to describe. There’s a lingering sensation, that leaves you feeling good all over.”
“Not too much, then?” Xavier didn’t think so at least, judging by Heath’s reactions.
Heath smiled. “That was perfect.” His brow furrowed. “Only… you didn’t come, did you?”
“It wasn’t about me,” Xavier lied.
Heath chuckled. “No, it was about Byerley, who was going to take out his rage on Malcolm’s arse. Except Byerley didn’t spend, did he?”
“You liked the role-play?” Xavier wanted to get away from the possibility of discussing his lack of climax. This was not something he’d ever had to deal with, and he still wasn’t completely sure why it had happened.
Except he knew that to be a lie.
This whole situation with work was preying on his mind, and he needed to do something about it. Because apparently he couldn’t lie to Heath without his own body betraying him.
Chapter Twenty
“WHAT THE hell have you been playing at?”
Xavier winced internally. Not exactly how he wanted to start a Monday morning, but Mr. Church hadn’t given him much option. He’d been waiting in Xavier’s office when Xavier had arrived at seven o’clock, ready to see what could be done about this infernal mess.
“Good morning, sir.” Xavier placed his briefcase on the floor beside the desk where Church sat.
“Don’t you waltz in here with your good morning, like you haven’t a care in the world. What the hell have you been doing since we spoke last week? Because I’ll tell you what it looks like from my side. Bugger all, that’s what.” Church’s eyes bulged. “And don’t bother lying to me, because I’ve checked. No letters have gone out to the property owners. Not a single one.” He sla
mmed his hands down on Xavier’s desk. “You know the time frame on this one. You know not everyone will smile and hold out their hand for the check, because there are always one or two stubborn arseholes who don’t want to sell. And then we have to go down the compulsory purchase order route, and all of that takes time. Time that you don’t have. So get your arse in gear and see to it, okay?”
And with that, Mr. Church stormed out of his office.
Xavier sank into his chair, his head in his hands. Whichever way he looked at this, he didn’t have a choice. This was his job, after all. There was no Plan B, no last-minute miracle that would ensure everyone ended up happy.
This was real life, and most of the time, it sucked.
Xavier pulled up the folder and searched for the generic letter, ready to adapt it for his purpose. It looked like Step One was going ahead as planned.
I’ll sit him down and explain things. I’ll make him understand this is business.
Except Xavier’s business and personal lives were about to clash.
HEATH WAS taking advantage of a quiet moment to stack some of the new books that had just arrived. Friday mornings were not the busiest times, but the weekend was looming, and he wanted to be ready. He’d already changed the window display to feature the new titles, with attractive signs announcing them.
What made him more anxious for the weekend to arrive was the chance to talk to Xavier. Because Heath hadn’t seen him or spoken with him since their scene on Sunday, and he was starting to worry. Heath had sent texts, some of them designed just to raise a smile, but all he’d gotten in return was silence. Xavier wasn’t answering his calls either.
That was as much anxiety as Heath could stand. He made up his mind that the coming Sunday, he’d go to the club. Maybe someone there had a clue what was going on with Xavier. Because Heath certainly didn’t.
The shop doorbell rang. “Good morning, Heath.”