Velvet Memories Page 7

  Michael’s smile was more natural now, if a little wry. “Well, I’ve got another hour on display. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get the chance to service someone’s big bruiser of a slave.”

  Gregori quirked a brow as Megan’s laugh rang out over the presentation area. “I am sorely tempted to give you exactly that, sweetness,” she replied, blue eyes twinkling. “But I’ve promised my Sugar something special tonight.”

  Michael heaved a dramatic sigh. “Rejected!” He grinned to show he was joking. “I can only hope for another time.”

  Megan laughed again and Gregori rolled his eyes — though he made sure his Mistress didn’t see it. Michael was still smiling as the Southern belle led her submissive toward the private rooms.

  *

  Rob sat at the bar for the better part of an hour fuming as he watched stranger after stranger touch what was his. And Michael did belong to him, whether the man wanted to admit it or not. He’d almost left his seat when the bitch dressed in red approached him. The sight of her scarlet-tipped fingers twisting Michael’s tender balls had incensed Rob to the point he’d actually stood when the big Russian headed in Michael’s direction, his voluptuous Mistress hot on his heels.

  He didn’t even try to contain the snarl when the red-leather bitch sent Michael spinning, but he did force himself to stay seated as Gregori and Mistress Megan came to his submissive’s rescue. There was nothing for him to do; he knew it. Oh, he could approach Michael, play with him while he was bound and obligated to allow it, but Rob knew if he gave in to the urge, he might as well kiss any chance at something more with the man good-bye. Michael had to come to him willingly. Or at least mostly willingly.

  So he sat drinking cola after fucking cola while men and woman alike fondled, licked, touched and did a myriad of other things that left Michael’s dick hard, his eyes glazed, and his face utterly serene.

  He wanted to be the one to take Michael to that place of pure feeling. He wanted to see his fine face flushed and twisted with effort, with pain, with need. He wanted to make Michael come all over his belly, and then he wanted to lick it up. Then he wanted to see the soft, peaceful expression on Michael’s face and know he was the one who put it there.

  He want to feel the other man’s full lips wrapped around his dick, stretched wide, sucking it down until Rob shot everything he had deep into his submissive’s throat. But most of all he wanted to top Michael and ride him hard until he begged for more, or for mercy, whichever came first. Instead he was locked on his bar stool watching and waiting, his eyes never leaving the leather ring wrapped around the other man’s cock, keeping his dick hard and red and ready to explode.

  He never came, though. After what felt like hours, but Rob knew for a fact was only ninety minutes, Michael was released from the cross and helped into a back room by a tall, statuesque woman. Half an hour later he was once again on the floor, headed for the bar. The bartender already had a tall glass of juice waiting when Michael arrived, and those blue eyes smiled at her even as he took a long drink.

  The smaller man was dressed in leather pants and a tight black t-shirt that played peek-a-boo with the barbells in his nipples, and Rob wanted nothing more than to catch one in his teeth and tug until Michael was a melting mess on the floor.

  He wasted no time in cornering his submissive. “Did you enjoy your time on public display?” He didn’t bother keeping the tension from his voice. He didn’t care if Michael knew it bothered him. Hell, he wanted Michael to know.

  “Enjoying public display’s my job.”

  Rob gritted his teeth as Michael took another drink of his juice. He knew the man needed the fluids and the sugar after the intense hour and a half he’d just spent, but he couldn’t control his tongue for long.

  ”You’ll let everyone in here have a taste but me, is that it?” If there was a tiny bit of hurt in his voice, he was pretty sure the music covered it.

  Michael waved his hand. “Listen, I don’t want to have this conversation every time I see you. We’re toxic together, and I’m not into that kind of abuse. Now, I’m working. Goodbye , Rob.”

  He kept his fists curled tight to keep from grabbing Michael’s arm and hauling him up against him, kissing him like he’d wanted to for ten long years and showing him exactly what he was denying them both. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Time for plan what? C? D?

  “Coward.”

  He pitched his voice just loud enough for Michael to hear it, and knew he’d succeeded in getting the man’s attention when he froze and those gorgeously sculpted shoulders went even tighter.

  Michael turned slowly to face him, a look of absolute disbelief on his face.

  “ Excuse me?” Michael wasn’t making any effort to moderate his tone; it was tight with anger. “ You’re calling me a coward?” The submissive stalked toward him, sleek in black leather, his hair falling in thick strands from the short queue he’d pulled it back into.

  Rob licked his lips. The man looked like nothing so much as a pissed-off jungle cat who was ready to take a bite. Rob was surprisingly eager to be bitten.

  “You didn’t walk away from me ten years ago, Rob. You fucking ran, right to the first pair of boobs on legs you could find.” Those eyes weren’t expressionless now; they were nearly incandescent with rage. “You didn’t acknowledge me even once again, ever, not until you showed up here.” Michael was right in front of him now, so close Rob could feel the heat pouring off him, could see the trickle of sweat that skated down his neck, over his throat as it worked under the leather of his collar.

  “You might be a Dom, Rob. You might even have come to terms with your sexuality, whatever the fuck it is.” One slender finger stabbed into Rob’s chest, and he swore with every poke his dick got harder. He risked a glance downward. It looked like Michael’s dick wasn’t indifferent, either. “But you don’t get to barge into my life,” Michael continued, “and call me a fucking coward just because I don’t choose to ride the rejection roller coaster again.”

  “Is that what you’re scared of, Mikey?” He finally gave in to the urge to touch, wrapping his hand around that pointing finger before it punctured his fucking chest. “You’re scared I’ll break you open and walk,” Michael’s eyes flashed, and Rob gave a wry smile, “okay, run away again?”

  Michael ground his teeth and tried to jerk his hand away, but Rob held tight.

  “I won’t, you know. I’ve stopped running, and I want you to stop, too.” Michael’s growl was barely audible over the music. “If you’re not a coward, Michael, give this thing between us a chance. It’s been there forever, and it’s not going away anytime soon.”

  “There is nothing between us but a little bit of ancient history.” Michael yanked at his hand again, to no avail.

  “Prove it.” Rob suppressed his smile. He was winning, and he knew it. Michael wanted this as much as he did, and Rob had finally found the way to cut off his angles of escape.

  “If there’s nothing between us but history, it should be no problem for you to do a scene with me.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Now Rob let the smile tease the corner of his mouth. Liar. “You’ll do it anyway, though. Just to prove I’m wrong.”

  “Fuck.” Michael finally managed to pull his hand free, and dragged it through his hair, leaving the almost-black strands just a little wild and free of the band restraining them. “Fine. But not tonight.” Those blue eyes were a touch panicked and a touch tired. “I can’t handle an intense scene on a public display night.”

  “All right.” It was easy to be flexible; he’d gotten Michael’s agreement and he knew the man wouldn’t try to back out later. Besides, the submissive really did look like he needed a little distance to put himself back together. Soon putting Michael back together would be his job, though; a job Rob was eager to take on.

  “Wednesday?” Tonight was Saturday. The club was closed Sundays, Michael didn’t work Mondays, and Tuesdays were dance nights. Rob’s smile grew to Cheshire
Cat proportions. Michael was scheduling them for a performance night. Maybe his little show with Trey had been more successful than he’d realized.

  It was a longer wait than he wanted, but he liked Michael’s subtle maneuvering, so he agreed readily.

  “What boundaries do you have?” This might be a battle of wills, but Rob wasn’t going to be irresponsible about it.

  “No scat or golden showers. I’m not adverse to pain if it’s for a purpose, but I’m not into hurting just for the sake of hurting.”

  Rob nodded. He was on board with all of that.

  “And no humiliation,” Michael added, blue eyes darker than usual and totally serious.

  “Agreed. I’m not a fan of any of those things, either.” He’d hurt Michael enough, he thought. He had no desire to abase the man. He wanted to … care for him.

  “Wednesday. Nine o’clock. I’ll reserve a private space.” The submissive’s eyes narrowed and Rob reconsidered. “Unless you’d prefer we do it on the stage?”

  Michael paused, thinking about it long enough Rob was actually surprised when he gave his head an abrupt shake.

  “No. This is between us.” Glowing blue eyes, full lips pressed tight, Michael was fucking gorgeous. “That’s how it should stay. Between us.”

  “Done.” He didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction, and from the grimace on his face, Michael was totally seeing it.

  It killed him, but Rob forced himself to walk away, to stop at the desk by the stairs and make his arrangements without looking back. It was the first time since finding him again that Michael wasn’t the one to walk away.

  Chapter Seven

  At 8:57 Wednesday night, Michael sat at the bar enduring the bartender’s sympathetic looks and sipping a glass of orange juice. He would have preferred something stronger but Janie, dammit, knew he had what promised to be an intense scene tonight, and had given him a screwdriver without the driver. She said she knew getting the screw wouldn’t be a problem tonight.

  He’d thought about wearing hot-pants and eyeliner, just to see if he could make Rob squirm, but had discarded the idea. It so wasn’t his style, it was incredibly immature, and he had a sneaking suspicion that, rather than being uncomfortable with Michael’s way-out-there sexuality, Rob would be amused at his obvious attempt to be … bratty. Michael grimaced. He was not bratty.

  Then he’d considered a simple t-shirt and jeans. But, while it was his unofficial uniform in real life, it was a world away from his usual club wear, and Rob had been stalking him long enough to know it.

  He finally settled on a pair of fatigues in shades of black and gray, and a black leather vest worn open to frame his chest. He’d gone for loose knowing, even though whipping wasn’t necessarily on the menu tonight, spanking probably was, and he didn’t want something that would chafe already sensitive skin.

  That thought, of course, led him back to the thought that had been obsessing him for the last three and a half days. What sort of scene was Rob planning for them?

  *

  Rob had arrived early. Really early. He’d immediately gone to the room he’d requested, checking and double checking to make sure everything he’d asked for was there and ready to go. This was a new kind of scene for him, and he wanted to be absolutely certain he had everything in order, from his tools and implements to his safety measures.

  He’d also been keeping an eye on the bar area, so he knew exactly when Michael arrived. The sub had been early, too, though not as early as Rob, and it made him smile to see the man fidgeting with his hair, his vest, his drink. Rob knew the minute Michael saw him the submissive would immediately go all expressionless and serene, so he was glad to get this sneak peek that proved Michael was fighting nerves just as surely as he was.

  Of course that admission burned. Rob never got nervous. He was supremely confident in every area of his life, from the courtroom to the racquetball court. So realizing he was on edge over this scene was a bit of a blow, not the least because it meant Michael was much more than a random submissive. Michael was much, much more, but knowing it and admitting it were two totally different things.

  At exactly nine o’clock Rob sent one of the club employees, the one who’d brought several bottles of chilled water to their private room, to summon Michael. Then Rob left the room, standing on the invisible side of a two-way mirror. The directions he sent to Michael were simple: Come into the room. Strip, and make it pretty. Kneel and take a waiting position.

  Michael followed his directions exactly. He moved into the room slowly, not looking reluctant, but looking like he was giving a show. His hair was in its usual queue at the nape of his neck, so when he turned his back to the mirror and let the vest slide down his arms, the width of his shoulders was revealed. Michael had always been slender, but even in high school he’d had muscle — long, lean muscle gained swimming and lifting weights. Time hadn’t changed that, except to make him more sculpted. Rob imagined running his fingers, then his tongue over the ridges of Michael’s abs, tracing the lines of muscle in his arms … The submissive caught his vest in one hand before putting it neatly on a hanger which had been provided for just that reason.

  He was wearing combat boots. Rob laughed a little bit at himself, at how fucking hot he was finding all Michael’s “army chic”. The laces were already loosened, so all Michael had to do was kick them off. His socks quickly followed, leaving him barefoot and bare-chested, poised gracefully before the mirror. With a secretive little smile, Michael began picking at his pants, button and zip slowly giving way to his long, slender fingers. Still smiling he turned, giving Rob his back as he let the pants fall into a pool of gray at his feet.

  When the submissive bent over, neatly picking up his pants to drape over another convenient hanger, the sight of that perfect, rounded ass had Rob’s mouth watering. He wanted nothing more than to charge into the room and pounce on Michael, bite those gorgeous cheeks and mark the man from head to toe. From the lazy stretch the slender man gave as he stood, reaching his arms high over his head and emphasizing every one of those mouthwatering muscles, Michael knew exactly what was going through Rob’s mind, too.

  Michael kept his back to the mirror for a moment longer; long enough for Rob to drink in the deep groove of his spine, the way the small of his back curved into the tempting swell of his ass. Long enough to tease, the little bastard.

  When he finally turned, the little half smile remained. Clearly Michael knew he was gorgeous. The lines of his chest were hard and sculpted and the titanium barbells glinted. His abs were as carved as cobblestones. He was shaved or waxed bare, not a hint of hair on his chest or pubes. Not even a happy little trail to follow to his heavy, half-hard dick. That was okay, though. For now smooth skin suited Rob’s purposes. If he had his way, after tonight he and Michael could discuss little details like manscaping.

  Michael stood for a moment, giving Rob the show he’d commanded, then dropped gracefully to his knees. Eyes trained on the mirror, the submissive stretched, limbering up shoulders and arms before moving his hands behind his back, fingers clasped firmly around opposite wrists. The pose threw the lean muscles of Michael’s chest into sharp relief. Those naughty little barbells glinted, begging for attention. Michael gave one last, challenging smile, letting his eyes flick from the mirror to the covered worktable along the wall and back, then lowered his head, training his gaze on the floor like a good submissive. Rob’s dick throbbed. His submissive was a beautiful man, but seeing him like this, on his knees, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back, tantalized Rob in a way nothing else ever had, or ever could.

  The challenge, the way Michael’s whole body seemed to dare Rob to master him, just added to the thrill.

  He studied the man before him, taking time to savor every inch of the submissive, his submissive, from head to toe. Michael just knelt easily, looking for all the world like this was something he did every day. Rob pursed his lips. This probably was something Michael did every day. When he’d looked his fill —
or at least as much as he wanted to from behind treated glass — he took a breath and opened the door.

  *

  Michael could literally feel Rob’s gaze on him, tangible as a physical touch even through the window. It tingled over his skin, making his dick stir, which in turn made him want to growl. He hated the fact his body reacted to Rob even after all these years; hated that the submissive in him wanted Rob’s Mastery as much as the wounded teen still living in his soul wanted another taste of his first love.

  When the door opened, he risked a quick glance upward, a mere peek through his lashes, and bit back a curse. Rob was in full Dom mode, dressed in snug black vinyl pants, shirtless, bare chest gleaming in the bright lighting of their room.

  He wondered what Rob had planned for him. He couldn’t make out what tools rested under the cloth on the covered table. The cloth was raised at both ends so it hovered over the surface, giving no clues to what it concealed. The massage-type table situated nearby gave no clues, either.

  Rob walked around him, dragging a finger lightly over his shoulder and raising goose bumps in his wake.

  “Very pretty, Mikey.” Michael wondered how such a silky smooth voice could raise such a prickle on his skin. “You follow directions nicely when you want to.”

  Michael very carefully kept his expression neutral. Honestly, he really hadn’t tried to show Rob the respect he’d normally show any Dom to visit the club. He’d looked at Rob and seen the high school jock sucking face with Cheerleader Barbie, and had focused on the scorn to avoid the hurt.

  Still, it was disrespectful, and with any other Dom or Domina, it would never have occurred to him to push the way he had with Rob. Michael wasn’t particularly happy with himself when he considered that his bad behavior was a reflection on him, not Rob.

  “Are you curious about what I’ve planned?”

  Expression, neutral. Voice, low and even. He would not let Rob know how much he still got to Michael.