Well, not until he was home with nothing but his fist and his lube and the memory of Michael — Michael at seventeen, Michael at twenty-seven, made no difference, the man was sex on legs at any age. Then he’d come. Repeatedly. With Michael’s name and the memory of Michael’s taste on his lips.
He’d finally broken down and let his fingers do the walking, needing the other man’s phone number. There was unfinished business between them, and no matter how much Rob wanted to believe what happened in high school hadn’t mattered, the truth was it did.
Did he want forgiveness, some sort of absolution from Michael for the way he’d treated him? Maybe. Hell, for the first time since his confusion back then, Rob was filled with a kind of emptiness that made sleeping impossible. He knew if he could only tell Michael he was sorry for his past behavior, then he’d be able to wake up in the morning without this constant knot lodged in his stomach.
He tried not to even think about what he wanted from Michael now. It was so much easier to just tell himself that once he’d apologized properly everything would be okay again. Deep inside, though, Rob was afraid it wasn’t true. He’d had a taste of the man, and he wanted more.
Amazingly enough, Michael’s phone number was listed. After a painfully awkward conversation filled with uncomfortable silence on both sides, Michael agreed to see him. Rob was ridiculously relieved.
Now he was sitting at a small table in Velvet Ice, his nerves on edge. Michael had left his name with the head of security, allowing Rob temporary access to the club’s notorious third floor. The same floor where only a week ago he’d had Michael strapped down to a table and writhing with pleasure.
He tried to appear at ease, sitting leisurely in a leather chair watching the open play area before him. He’d been approached by subs, both male and female, offering up their services for the evening. His dick said maybe, but his head, his heart, turned them down. Not until he talked to Michael.
He nursed his beer for a good ten minutes until he saw the other man across the floor. He swallowed hard; Michael was truly beautiful to look at as he walked toward Rob as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
Dressed only in a pair of leather pants and boots, his chest was bare. Hard pecs and sculpted abs called to Rob. His skin was lightly oiled and his nipples both sported barbells through them. Oh, and then there was the collar. Plain black leather with an intricate “V-I” worked into it, about an inch wide, and clearly worn soft with use, the collar marked Michael as clearly as a brand as everything Rob needed to get off.
Fuck, he was in trouble. How the hell was he supposed to apologize when his mouth was so fucking dry he knew he wouldn’t be able to get a word out?
Michael stopped in front of him. Rob pointed the chair next to him. “Have a seat.” His dick thumped against his zipper as Michael sprawled across from him. He couldn’t help but notice that while Michael had kept his eyes down and had nodded deferentially at several other Doms as he crossed the floor, now Michael showed no signs of submissiveness. Just a sort of detached curiosity that made Rob crazy to break through and get to some real emotion.
“You said on the phone you had something important to talk about.” Pale eyes never left his face as he waited for Rob to begin.
“Where do I start?” Rob couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he felt. He was a successful trial lawyer, for Pete’s sake. He made his living with his words. This was his opportunity to make amends, to see where the other man stood where he was concerned, and he was about to blow it because he couldn’t spit the damned words out.
“How about at the beginning?”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “For the way I treated you after … the gym.”
Michael blinked but his expression remained relaxed, unchanged. “Okay.”
Okay … Okay?
“It wasn’t about you. I didn’t know who I was. Hell, wanting you was a big fucking shock to me. Admitting I was attracted to another guy scared the shit out of me.”
Michael shrugged but didn’t react much otherwise. “I figured as much. How could the star football player be gay?”
The submissive’s voice was cordial, but Rob didn’t miss the edge in those blue eyes, and his chest constricted to the point he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to draw another breath.
Impulsively he reached out and grasped Michael’s hand. “I’m not that kid anymore. I’m not afraid of who I am anymore. I just need you to understand I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.”
Michael slipped his hand out of Rob’s grasp. “If you need to hear it, then fine, you’re forgiven. It was a long time ago, Rob. I’m totally okay, and have been for many years.”
Somehow that didn’t quite ring true, but there was no flicker in Michael’s gaze. Of course, there wasn’t much emotion at all in Michael’s gaze. Still, if Michael had forgiven him, maybe …
“Do you think … ?”
He didn’t even get the question out before Michael stood. “Hey, we’re cool, Rob, but I have to get back to work now.” He turned his back to Rob — an action that fairly screamed he didn’t see Rob as Dominant to him — and walked away as casually as he’d come. Rob picked up his beer, only now his fingers were shaking. He’d been given forgiveness but it felt empty. There was no relief running through his veins. No, the only thing he was feeling was the soul-deep need to have Michael naked and on his knees before him. The need to see that dark head bowed as the submissive shivered in anxious pleasure. He felt the ghost of Michael’s hand in his and he wanted more. He needed more. There was no way in Hell he was letting things end here. There was no doubt in his mind; Michael was meant to be his.
He scanned the room and spotted Master Sin. Mind made up, he stood and approached the events coordinator of Velvet Ice.
* * * *
Michael had been summoned to Master Brady Ryder’s office, a place he hadn’t set foot in since his initial job interview. He was terrified for no other reason than because it was Brady. The badass boss of Velvet Ice tended to have that effect on most people who came into contact with the scary recluse.
Praying no one had made a complaint against him, he knocked on the door and opened it when the gravelly voice behind it commanded him to enter.
The Master was sitting behind his large beat-up desk, an application folder in his hand. “Mike. Sit.”
It was on the tip on his tongue to correct Brady and tell him it was Michael, not Mike, but one look at the huge, tattooed Dom and Michael thought better and clamped his lips tight.
Brady sat back. “Mistress Violet brought me a new application from a prospective Dom this morning. My inclination is to accept, but it’s come to my attention you may have an issue with him.”
Michael felt his brows rise. This was the last thing he’d expected. While he knew Master Brady was beyond careful of the Club submissives, he’d never heard of quite this level of concern before.
Brady slid a folder across the massive desktop, and his large tattooed biceps drew Michael’s gaze like a moth to a flame. He didn’t know whether he wanted to shiver in anticipation or in fear. He forced himself to breathe; he wasn’t here because of something he’d done. He’d been brought into the tiger’s den because of an applicant.
Forcing his eyes away from the charismatic Dom, he saw the name on the application and sighed. He should have known it was Rob. The grown-up version of his high school crush had already been haunting his dreams, and now he was doing a pretty damned good job of tormenting his waking hours, too. Michael’s body reacted instantly, heating and growing hard. Dammit, how was he suppose to forget about the first man who ever broke his heart if he kept showing up and now he wanted to become a member of Michael’s own club?
“Mike, I need to know if there is some compelling reason why I should give this guy a no.”
Michael didn’t know how to respond.
“I know you two have a past,” the big Dom continued.
When Michael opened his mouth to reply, Brad
y held up his hand. “I don’t want to know the details. Trust me, I’ve been told enough.” Michael’s mind reeled at the thought of Rob sharing the story of their single, disastrous tryst with the formidable Brady Ryder. Oh, God . He forced himself to relax as Brady’s scowl softened just the tiniest bit. “I won’t allow him in if he’s going to cause you any trouble.”
The club owner was acting like a papa bear. Michael felt dizzy and his chest warmed. He’d been so alone since his mother’s death during his first year of college, and Velvet Ice had provided him a pseudo family, people who understood him and cared for him. The fact Brady was among them threatened to crack Michael’s composure.
Michael flicked his eyes back to the application. As much as he’d like to deny it, Rob becoming a member of the Club would probably present all kinds of problems for him. Hell, the man’s apology two nights before had almost gutted Michael.
But he couldn’t very well tell Master Brady to reject Rob’s membership just because the guy had broken his heart ten years ago. He might be submissive, but he wasn’t a crybaby. Besides, there was no way he was going to whine to his boss about his personal life.
“No, Sir, I don’t have a reason why you shouldn’t grant the application.”
“Are you sure?” The other man was searching his face as if looking for proof of his feelings.
Michael shook his head. “I’m sure.” He pushed the folder back to Brady.
“Fine. I’ll have Mistress Violet process it.” Brady closed the folder and shoved it aside. “You can go.”
Michael stood and backed respectfully toward the door, but Master Brady’s voice stopped him. “Mike,” the big man looked oddly uncomfortable, almost reluctant. “If there ever is a problem you’ll tell me.” It wasn’t a request.
Michael shivered, nodded his head and exited the room.
On the other side of the door, he leaned against the wall trying to quell his trembling. What the hell had he just done? Invited Rob into his world, that’s what he’d done. During the wax demonstration Rob had stripped him of nearly every bit of control. The Dom had taken him to another world and rocked him to the core, but Michael sure as Hell wasn’t about to let Rob know it.
He was a grown man and could deal with Rob being in the club. He’d just have to make sure he wasn’t around him. It wouldn’t be difficult to keep himself busy and out of the way whenever the other man was present. One thing was for sure — Michael would have to go into survival mode in the same way he had so many years ago, when Rob had broken his heart. But he was ten years older now, and ten years wiser; a well-trained professional submissive who could handle anything, and that included Robert Hilton.
He’d just keep telling himself that.
Chapter Four
Rob leaned back, elbows propped on the bar, and let his eyes wander over the public space of Velvet Ice’s third floor. It looked like a dance floor, and sometimes it was. As he understood it, there was only dancing three nights of the week. The other three nights the club was open were reserved for public play and performances.
The open space ended at a set of tall, smoked glass doors which he knew led to private and semi-private areas for staging scenes. He imagined that was where he’d do most of his playing. Beyond those areas Rob knew there were a number of private, personally owned rooms, as well.
He let his gaze travel around the room again. Velvet Ice was like a puzzle box, full of secret chambers and unexpected treasures.
His scan of the room stuttered and stopped, stalled at the sight of a slender, dark-haired submissive who was kneeling at the feet of a voluptuous blonde.
Funny how, even from behind, he knew Michael the second he saw him. The straight line of the man’s spine above his snug black pants. The almost-black hair, which he’d pulled back into a stubby tail at the nape of his neck. The sharp, elegant curve of his jaw.
And funny how just the sight of Michael from across the room triggered a flood of sensory memories. He could almost feel the satin of the submissive’s pale skin under his fingers, could almost taste the bitter-salt taste of Michael’s cum. He wanted more; more touch, more taste. He wanted to learn every sound the submissive made when he was flying, every gasp and moan.
He wanted Michael, plain and simple.
It pissed him off beyond words that Michael appeared to be occupied for the evening. And he didn’t know if it made it better or worse that it was a Domina who was monopolizing Michael’s attention. Better, maybe, because Rob knew which way Michael’s preferences went. Worse because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he could make Mikey fly so much better than she could.
He didn’t even attempt to force his gaze away from the pair, only giving a slight smile and nod when the Domina raised a brow at his scrutiny. He didn’t scowl, though he wanted to, when she reached out and ran a long, candy-pink nail over Michael’s cheek. He wasn’t so successful in keeping his expression blank, though, when Michael gave her a soft smile in return and rested his cheek against the silky skin bared by a short, cream-colored leather skirt.
Just about the time Rob was ready to move from beer to gin, another man joined the Domina and Rob’s submissive. This man had every appearance of being a major, scary-assed Dom, maybe even as intimidating as the big, bald owner of the club. To Rob’s extreme surprise, though, the big man knelt next to Michael and pressed a slow, sensual kiss to the Domina’s thigh.
Michael gave the big, dark-haired sub a wicked smile and said something that had both Mistress and submissive laughing. The luscious blonde ruffled Michael’s hair playfully, pulling silken looking strands loose of their band. Michael said something else, eyes now cast respectfully toward the floor. The beefy submissive gave his Mistress a questioning look, not resisting, but clearly not particularly excited to begin a three-way scene. Rather than answering, the Domina tipped Michael’s chin up with one slender finger, and turned his head in Rob’s direction.
Rob had already liked the woman just on the basis of her smile. Knowing she’d defer to his painfully obvious interest in the sub at her feet made him like her even more.
It was hard, but Rob suppressed his hungry smile — mostly — when Michael’s eyes locked on him. He realized just how little he’d hidden when those blue eyes went wide and a little panicked. The panic gave him hope. Michael’d done such a good job of hiding his emotions; Rob had almost begun to believe the submissive really didn’t feel anything for him. The hunted look in Michael’s eyes let Rob know he did affect the other man. Not only did he affect him, with that one look Rob knew he could push Michael past any number of boundaries.
The lovely Domina noticed Michael’s reaction, too. Standing, she hooked a finger in the plain, black leather collar Michael wore to proclaim his status as submissive and began to lead the slender man in his direction.
Michael should have looked awkward, or diminished. The woman was tugging him along behind her, on his knees. Instead of looking humiliated, though, Michael just looked vulnerable and fucking lickable. Rob’s mouth began to water.
The big submissive had risen and was following them, eyes on the floor as was proper. Somehow, in spite of his obvious submissive attitude, he managed to emote a sense of danger which only served to highlight the studied femininity of his Mistress.
She gave Rob a slow, sultry smile when they arrived at his table. Michael’s eyes were resolutely glued to the floor but the other sub, who’d dropped easily to his knees by his Domina’s feet, was examining him closely. Rob could practically feel that gray gaze slice through him.
“Introduce us, sweet thing.”
Rob had to smile. Her voice was honey and magnolias; sweet thing came out more like sweet thang .
“Mistress Megan,” Michael’s voice was the tiniest bit tight, and his eyes stayed glued to the Domina’s stilettos. “This is Robert Hilton. Rob, meet Mistress Megan.”
The Domina gave Michael a less than gentle tap on the cheek. “Don’t you mean Master Rob, sweetness?”
R
ob could see Michael’s teeth clenching. He knew he should let the man hang, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let another Dominant discipline his submissive.
“Mikey knew me long before I was anything other than plain old Rob. I think it’s hard for him to wrap his mind around my being a grown-up, let alone a Master.” Shooting what he knew had to be a smug look in Michael’s direction, he added, “He’ll get over it.” He offered the woman his most charming smile and his hand. “It’s good to meet you,” he added.
“I just knew you and Michael must have some sort of history. I’ve never seen him ignore anyone so thoroughly.” Her laughter was rich and a little husky. “I thought, since the two of you seem completely caught up, and my sugar is here,” she stroked her fingers through her submissive’s short black hair, “it would be greedy for me to monopolize two of Velvet Ice’s most delicious subs.”
Michael was going to crack a tooth if he ground them any harder. Rob felt his smile grow. “You are too generous.” He kissed the back of Megan’s hand, noting with interest the way her submissive’s eyes darkened at the caress. “And I will happily accept that generosity.”
Mistress Megan gave him another smile, then led her brick wall of a man away, full ass swaying with every step. Rob watched appreciatively before turning to the submissive who was no longer on his knees, and who was now giving him a direct and rather unfriendly look.
“Come have a drink with me,” he invited casually, although everything in him was demanding he knock the legs right out from under Michael and get him back in an appropriately submissive posture. The urge grew even stronger as Michael took a visible breath before answering.
“I can’t tonight.” His gaze didn’t waver, but something dark seemed to lurk in those cool blue depths. “I’m working.”
Rob raised a brow. “But not working too hard to play with Mistress Megan and her sub?”
Michael shook his head. “No, playing with Mistress Megan and Gregori — or with whichever Dom or Domina I agree to partner with for the night — is my job. I’m a club submissive. I’m available for unattached Dominants to stage scenes with.”