by Jodi Payne
“Well, damn, Nikki. Welcome to the club.”
He hadn’t joined the club. “I’m not paying dues, I’m not sure I’m…”
“Oh, you are.” Cade tapped his knee “You don’t pay dues until your trial period is over.”
“When is it over?”
“When Master Bradford says it’s over.” Brian sounded very sure of that.
Nikki laughed. “That seems to be the answer to everything.”
“It is.” Cade and Brian laughed along with him, their eyes twinkling.
“Nikki, Nikki, Nikki.”
Nikki looked up, finding Levi standing over him.
“Oh, boy.” Cade stuck an elbow in Nikki’s ribs and whispered, “Levi can get very, very drunk at these things.”
“Nikki, you know you’re Master Bradford’s favorite right now, right?”
“What? Favorite?”
“He means favorite sub,” Brian offered helpfully.
“You’re a lucky, lucky man, Nikki.”
“Oh, well. I mean, I’m just…new is all.”
“How did he find you? I mean, you weren’t a sub before you got here, right?”
“God, no,” he said but realized immediately how that sounded. “I mean, I just didn’t know what I was missing.”
Cade laughed. “Good one.”
“We met in a coffee shop, and he offered me the job in the kitchen.”
Levi nodded. “That’s amazing. Lucky you.”
“Hey, Levi. You wanna go home?” Brian stood up and leaned into Levi.
“You coming with me?”
“I’ll get you home, yeah.”
Nikki watched Brian and Levi go, and Cade leaned back in his chair. “Brian doesn’t really like these get-togethers much; they’re not his thing. But he comes every week anyway.”
“Because of Levi?”
Cade nodded. “Yep. To make sure Levi gets home okay. He’s been doing it for like a year.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Maybe they’re sleeping together.”
He nodded. Maybe. Or maybe it was just who Brian was. Levi obviously had something going on if he got blasted every week.
“Garett and Kip will head out together shortly, too.”
“Yeah? Noah and Rocky?”
Cade laughed. “No. Oh, no. Not Noah.”
“He’s really a cop?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have anything to do with that. He just…doesn’t.”
“Really? Why?”
“He doesn’t sleep around. Or so he says. Wants to save it for the Doms.”
“Hm.” Nikki looked at Noah. He could respect that. But Noah was a good-looking man. That must drive at least some of these guys crazy.
“You and Rocky?”
Cade shook his head. “Nope.”
“You and anybody?”
Cade leaned in closer. “Nope.”
“Oh.” He leaned toward Cade too. “Good.”
“Sure is.”
Cade kissed him, and he returned it, grinning against Cade’s lips. This could be fun. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe a little. Sure you don’t want a beer?”
“Is the cop still around?”
“Nope.”
“Bring it on.”
“Be right back.”
14
Bradford had hoped that Nikki might join him for dinner, but he’d found a note on his kitchen counter from the boy:
Going out tonight.
Of course. He ought to have assumed—now that Nikki was officially one of the uncontracted subs—that he would be invited out for their Monday night gatherings. Bradford technically wasn’t supposed to know about the regular meet-up, but when it came to his members, very little got past him. He was privy to virtually all the gossip, both in and outside the club. No, the boys’ regular Monday meeting was no secret to him, but outside of the club he had no jurisdiction over how they spent their time, and in all the years the tradition had been in place, he’d never heard of anything untoward going on, and only very few, minor cases of heartbreak.
Boys will be boys, eh? Besides, it wasn’t a bad thing for them to be fond of each other.
However, that left him to his own devices. He’d been busy through the weekend but had hoped to further discuss their evening together with Nikki over dinner tonight. Now he felt at loose ends. He sat in his favorite chair in his study, a crystal decanter on the table beside him, a glass of cognac warming in one hand, and a cigarette burning in the other.
In the deafening silence, he found himself second-guessing everything. He had no rational cause for concern. The evening with Nikki had gone just perfectly as far as he could tell, but he needed to talk to the boy. He needed to hear Nikki tell him it was okay, that it was a good experience.
What Bradford really needed was for Nikki to agree to do it again, to say that he wanted more.
Dammit.
He took a drag of his cigarette and washed it down with a sip of his cognac. Nikki was so similar to the young man he had once been. Broke, homeless, wishing for something easier. The big difference was that even at the young age of twenty, Bradford had been longing for control, whereas Nikki was longing to relinquish it.
Ah, Harrison. Am I doing right by this boy?
It was important to him that he was reading and following Nikki’s cues and not merely seducing the boy into a life he would not have otherwise wanted.
Then again, if the boy is happy, does it matter?
He’d been well aware of his own proclivities before Harrison took him in. He’d been the Dominant partner in every sexual encounter he’d ever had, and he’d started quite young. His first sexual experience had been as frightening as it was enlightening, with the simple truth of losing his virginity far less remarkable to him than the way he’d used his partner. It fell short of truly hurting the boy, and he’d backed off the moment he was asked, but at first his hunger terrified him. His partner was more experienced, quite understanding, and their discussion afterward might literally have saved him from himself. All the same, he learned to be very open with new lovers and insisted on full consent because he knew he could be rough: pinning wrists, smacking and bruising, using his body weight, employing words and the tone of his voice to manipulate.
Little had changed in that department.
By eighteen years old he could barely afford to eat, but he owned a set of leather cuffs and a short-handled flogger. His nature and his needs were very clear to him.
It was Harrison that molded him into the Dom he had since become however, alongside a number of very focused and competitive contemporaries such as Tobias and Luca. The first thing Harrison did was forbid Bradford any sex play at all in his scenes, in an effort to illustrate the divide between the art and the need. Being young, still in his midtwenties, the two had been inseparable in his mind; the purpose of the whip and the cuffs was to get someone excited, to get them off—to get himself off.
Harrison taught him the higher purpose of their craft. Through that deprivation and Harrison’s passion for the lifestyle, he was able to separate his needs from his desires and learn what was at the root of each.
He snuffed his cigarette and stared out the window at the busy city streets, swirling the last sip of cognac.
Nikki and Cade went barreling through Cade’s front door, and it slammed behind them.
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was all that talk about his scene with Bradford. Or about fucking Bradford.
Maybe just because Cade was hot and being so nice to him.
“Hey, man.”
Nikki felt the other sub wave one of his roommates off as he shoved his tongue down Nikki’s throat again.
“Whoa, gotcha. I was just going to hit the bar.”
“Was that Cade?”
“And…someone.”
“Woohoo! You go, man!” Someone cheered from another room.
“Come on, Jackie, let’s get out of here.”
“Yep. Just finding my sh
oes.”
Cade caught his eye. “They’re going.”
“Okay.” Nikki was breathless and just barely managed to get the word out. Cade pressed him up against the wall in the hallway and ground a stiff erection into his thigh. “Shit, I feel that, man.”
“Yeah.” Cade grunted.
Nikki shifted and rubbed right back, both of them finding friction. He moaned. “Want your mouth.”
“Later, gentlemen!” Cade’s roommates were laughing as they took off through the front door, and he heard the dead bolt click home.
Cade reached up and pulled his shirt off over his head. “Come on.” Cade pulled him by the hand, hurrying down the hall to a small bedroom. There was a twin bed and a window that looked into an alley with a view of a brick wall not three feet away. Cade closed the door behind them. “You top? I have rubbers.”
“No, you?”
Cade laughed. “Hell, no.”
He pulled off his T-shirt. “No problem. Sixty-nine?”
“Oh, fun!” Cade grinned wide and tossed his jeans aside.
Fun was exactly what he was looking for. He watched Cade, who was hard as hell.
Cade actually hissed as he maneuvered his jeans down around his erection. He grinned at Nikki and wrapped his fingers around his own shaft, grunting as he gave it a tug. “This bad boy needs some love.”
Nikki dropped his jeans too, laughing. “Let me see what I can do for you.” He kicked all his clothing aside and reached out, shooing Cade’s fingers away and replacing them with his own. Cade moaned for him and his eyes slid closed. “Oh, wow, Cade. I totally see what the Doms like about you.”
“Shut up. And don’t stop.” Cade’s voice had dropped to a whisper and his lips parted slightly as Nikki stroked him. He really was beautiful. Nikki leaned forward and kissed him, and Cade’s fingers reached up and wrapped around Nikki’s nape.
“Want,” he whispered back.
“Come on.” Cade led Nikki to his tiny bed.
Bradford sat across from Harrison in one of the wingback library chairs and sipped his brandy. “This is pretty good.”
“Delightful. Marvelous. Luscious.”
Bradford laughed. “What was all of that?”
Harrison smiled at him. “A short list of more sophisticated descriptive words you might have substituted for ‘pretty good.’ ”
“What’s wrong with ‘pretty good’?”
“It doesn’t say anything, Bradford. It’s an empty phrase. A waste of words. And it makes you sound rather like the guttersnipe you were when I first brought you home.”
“Now you’re just being an asshole, Harry.” Bradford sighed. He’d been working on his turn of phrase and his presentation as part of his training. Harrison had insisted on it. “I am the guttersnipe you brought home. I just smell better.”
Harrison laughed softly and stood, setting his brandy down on the table between them. “Heavens no, Bradford, you most certainly are not. On the contrary, you have become a true Dominant. You appreciate the art in the balance of personal power, and you’re easily one of the most competent and capable students I’ve ever had. You simply have been disadvantaged by the circumstances that surrounded your youth.”
“Circumstances.” Bradford snorted. “You mean being kicked out…ah.” Bradford slowed down and chose his words more carefully. “Being evicted from my parents’ home at the tender age of fourteen?”
“Now, that was very nice.”
Bradford shook his head at Harrison and went on. “Or perhaps you mean being penniless, sleeping in shelters and alleys or on park benches? Don’t be such a snob, Harry.”
“I don’t mean any of those things, Bradford. I’m talking about your lack of consistent education.”
Bradford sighed. “I did the best I could.”
Harrison walked around behind Bradford’s chair. “What you were able to do was remarkable. Your ambition has served you well.” Harrison leaned on the back of the chair, his voice low in Bradford’s ear. “You’re brilliant, Bradford. I want you to understand that. You’re not traditionally educated, it’s true, yet you’ve absorbed everything you needed to know. All you require now is a little polish, and you will be fully capable of running my business. It is my sincere hope that you will one day.”
“What? Me?”
“That’s what I’m offering you, Dear One.”
Bradford stood up and walked around his chair, so he was standing in front of his mentor.
His mentor, his lover.
He’d never pictured himself in a May-December relationship—or any relationship—and yet… “Spell this out for me, Harry. I need to make sure I’m hearing you right.”
“Stay with me, Bradford.” Harrison took both of Bradford’s hands in his. “After your training is finished. Live with me, here in my brownstone.”
“Harrison.” Bradford’s heart was beating hard.
“I’m not getting any younger. I have to leave all of this to someone—the house, my estate, the club and its assets. Stay with me, be my friend, my lover. Everything you are now only…until death do us part.”
Harrison’s words took Bradford’s breath away. “You’re asking me to marry you?”
“Quietly, dearest. Privately, but yes. A gentleman’s agreement, just between us. I’m asking for a promise, a pledge if you will, to take care of me, whatever the future may bring. I can’t imagine having to live out my third act alone. In return, I will leave you everything.”
Bradford raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the hollow ache Harrison’s words left in his chest. “I see. So, it’s really more of a business arrangement, then.”
“No, Dear One.” Harrison reached up and combed a lock of Bradford’s hair off his forehead with gentle fingers. “Well, partly it has to be, I suppose. But it’s so much more. It’s only that—”
“You have a reputation.” That much Bradford understood. “And being lovers with another Dom doesn’t serve your image.”
Harrison’s smile was sad but affectionate. “I’m sorry. It’s weak and selfish of me, I know. But it’s what I need.” Harrison sank to one knee, keeping those worn but wise hazel eyes locked on Bradford’s and a tight hold on Bradford’s fingers. “My Heart, it doesn’t diminish the way I feel about you.”
Bradford ran his fingers through his hair and tossed back the last sip of his cognac. He had been Harrison’s whole heart, he knew, right up until the day it stopped beating. He loved Harrison still—quietly, privately, as his lover had intended. In all their years together, they never attended a party as a couple, never held hands in public, never kissed one another outside of the brownstone. Of course, there were a handful of their inner circle who knew, people like Tobias for one, and he had to believe that the word got out among the senior club members prior to Harrison’s memorial at the club, because no one seemed to question the extent of his grief. If that was the case, though, everyone had respected his privacy.
There was no question that the club was the second love of his life and he’d poured himself into it, knowing that keeping it whole, keeping the membership vibrant and varied, keeping it a safe and supportive environment for men with certain shared interests would make Harrison proud. He’d added his own touches, of course. For example, his lover hadn’t ever been the extrovert that Bradford was at heart and had never been as fond of parties and entertaining as he was.
Speaking of parties, his birthday was right around the corner. Planning was something he could do instead of sitting alone in the library feeling sorry for himself.
15
He probably should feel guilty or something about staying out all night. He probably should be ready to apologize to Bradford for not calling to let him know. He probably shouldn’t have had that beer.
But fuck it, he’d had so much fun.
Nikki headed down the hall toward the club, in jeans and a T-shirt. Bradford’s dinner invitation didn’t really leave room to turn him down:
Dinner, 7:00pm. Wear whatever you
like, boy. If I have my way, you won’t be wearing it long.
He shivered and the note fluttered in his fingers.
If I have my way.
Bradford was pretty used to getting his way.
He stepped into the dining room and looked around.
“Hi, Nikki.” Brian came out of nowhere, making him jump.
“Jesus, Brian.”
Brian just grinned at him. “Sir is over in the corner there; he said he wanted a more private table. Would you like me to walk with you?”
He was relieved. He’d rather not be out in the middle of everything. God, that was nerve-wracking. He followed Brian to the table, still trying to decide how to present himself. Contrite and apologetic? Confident and cheerful? Apologetic and cheerful? Damn.
“Good evening, boy.”
“Hello, sir.” He kept his eyes low but his voice steady. “Thank you for the dinner invitation.” There. That was polite.
“I’m glad you could join me. Did you have a pleasant evening?”
There was more than a hint of amusement in Bradford’s tone. Was that a trick question? “Yes, sir.”
“Good thing you had the day off today.”
“Yes, sir.” Good thing, for sure.
This conversation was surreal.
“I hope my choice of seating will ease your performance anxiety, boy, but you will be honest with me if you find it difficult, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” It was cool of Bradford to think of that. It was really hard to relax out in the middle of everything and everyone.
“Good. Please, have a seat.”
Brian had been waiting patiently behind him and on Bradford’s order, pulled out his chair for him. “Thanks.” He looked at Brian and gave him an awkward smile. It was still odd to be friends one day and to have Brian or Levi or whoever serving the next.
“Your note was…direct, sir.”
“This is a negotiation. I want what I want. It doesn’t serve either of us to mince words.”
“Well, no, but—”