Softly moaning, frantically shifting his straining groin against nothing but air, puppy nodded as much as he could.

  Tyler could barely think straight, between the feel of Marcus’ breath against his neck and the feel of his fingers alternating back and forth, playing with his nipples. But when Master Kahn leaned in and tenderly kissed puppy’s cheek, Tyler recognized there was a much deeper dynamic at work.

  The man known as puppy tipped his head and nuzzled his Master’s hand before Master Kahn stepped back. “You know what I want out of you, puppy,” the man ordered, sounding stern. “My puppy better show his appreciation.” He started nailing the man in the ass and thighs with the whip as puppy moaned and squirmed. After a dozen strokes, Master Kahn ordered, “Now!”

  The man let out a loud scream around the ball gag as his body went rigid and strained against his bonds. Tyler watched, fascinated, as it looked like the man was gripped by an orgasm.

  Marcus laughed. “I wonder how long it took him to train his boy to do that on command. Excellent.”

  As puppy’s body went slack, Master Kahn quickly stepped in and wrapped an arm around him, holding him, whispering to him as he worked to unhook his restraints. As puppy was freed, he dropped to his knees and threw his arms around his Master’s legs.

  Master Kahn leaned over and pulled the blindfold and gag off the man, stroked his hair, talked to him. Then he knelt next to him and put one arm around him. He reached for puppy’s left hand and took a small, yellow rubber ball from him and dropped it into the duffel bag. He pulled a throw blanket from the bag and wrapped it around puppy, held him tightly, whispering to him as others walked away from the scene. Master Kahn cuddled him close as puppy rested his head against his shoulder.

  Tyler spotted something else he hadn’t noticed before—matching bands on the men’s left hands.

  Marcus withdrew his hand from under Tyler’s shirt. “Let’s step away. He’s going to give him aftercare.”

  In a foggy haze of desire, Tyler let Marcus lead him into one of the darkened alcoves. Padded benches lined the walls. Some men sat and talked. Others were locked into various intimate positions with each other barely the legal side of indecent.

  Marcus sat, pulled Tyler down next to him, and leaned in close. “What did you think?”

  With his erection still screaming like a son of a bitch, Tyler could only nod.

  Marcus smiled and slipped one hand behind Tyler’s neck, pulling him closer. With his lips next to Tyler’s ear, he said, “I’d love to watch your ass dance under my whip. I bet you’re not a pain pig, but I’d be willing to bet you’d let me take you to the edge and keep you there a while, wouldn’t you?”

  Tyler shivered, but he nodded.

  Marcus weaved his fingers in Tyler’s hair. “You’d make a nice boy for me, wouldn’t you? I bet you’re a fantastic cook, too. Attention to details, needing the validation.” He squeezed tighter. “Wanting someone to take control of things for you, someone you can rely on.”

  “Yes.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Yes, what?”

  Tyler closed his eyes, the instinctive answer passing his lips without conscious thought. “Yes, Sir.”

  Marcus relaxed his grip and stroked Tyler’s hair. “I’m sure my sweet boy is a praise whore, too. Is your poor cock dying for relief?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Every time he said it felt easier, more natural. He had difficulty reconciling this. Maybe Erin was right after all. Maybe her hurled accusations were spot on.

  Maybe he just needed to find someone who could appreciate him for who he was. Maybe he really was submissive deep down inside.

  Maybe he would make some lucky man a good wife.

  Tyler relaxed against Marcus, inhaling the faint scent of cologne mixing with musky desire and excitement and the hint of sweat from around the club. After a few minutes, Marcus nudged Tyler to his feet and led him out of the alcove. On the other side of the space, across the open area looking down at the ground level, a man tied to a low bench was the center of attention in another scene just getting started.

  Marcus smiled. “Perfect.” He positioned Tyler at the railing and grabbed his hands, pressing his fingers around the iron top rail. “Don’t let go, boy,” he murmured in Tyler’s ear.

  They stood directly across the open space from the scene unfolding before them. Below, oblivious to what happened above, the dance floor teemed with couples doing their own thing to the deep bass beat.

  Tyler looked directly into the bound man’s face twenty feet away, clearly visible through the iron railing.

  Marcus stepped behind Tyler and nudged his feet wider apart. Now bent over, Tyler’s heart raced as he wondered what was in store.

  He gripped the railing tighter.

  Marcus folded his long, lithe body around Tyler’s, his legs pressing against the back of Tyler’s thighs. With his mouth at Tyler’s ear, he said, “Don’t let go of that railing, or I’ll stop what I’m doing. Keep your eyes open. Watch them over there.” Marcus grabbed Tyler’s hips and started a serious bump and grind against his backside.

  Across the space, the bound man smiled at Tyler as another man started paddling his ass with a leather strap. Tyler felt unable to look away regardless of the order to keep his eyes open.

  “Look at the smile on his face,” Marcus said as he reached around Tyler’s waist. “Look at how he’s enjoying that. He’s a true pain pig, I bet. Not like my sweet boy.” His hand settled over Tyler’s crotch as his other tightly gripped Tyler’s belt. “Fuck yourself against my hand, boy. Show me how good it feels.”

  Tyler felt Marcus’ palm and fingers press all the way down the hard length of his shaft. As his face reddened, Tyler rocked his hips forward against the palm providing coarse friction for his cock, and backward against the hard bulge pressing into the seam of his ass, back and forth.

  “That’s it, baby. Be a good boy for me. Show me what that sweet virgin ass of yours can do.”

  The bound man’s eyes had closed, but from the smile of joy on his face as the strap struck him, he certainly seemed to enjoy it. If Marcus didn’t stop soon, Tyler knew he would shoot off in his pants.

  Marcus continued, relentless. “I wish I could have you drop your pants right now and stroke your cock for me, show me how good it is. I think maybe tomorrow night I should come over to your place for dinner and you can show me what that sweet ass of yours looks like. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Tyler gasped.

  The other man chuckled. “Very good, boy. Very good. You learn fast. I like that in a boy.” He gripped Tyler’s cock even harder through the fabric, the friction painfully pleasurable. “I want you to come for me, boy. Show me what a good boy you are.”

  Tyler’s breath came in ragged gasps, part of his conscious brain shutting down and going with the events, logical, rational thought fleeing the scene leaving behind only raw, primal need and the feel of Marcus’ hot body through his clothes.

  “That’s it,” Marcus cooed. “You’re close, aren’t you? Give me what I want, boy. Give it to me…now!”

  With a cry lost in the loud music, Tyler felt his climax crash over him. Marcus squeezed his cock, almost painfully, adding an extra bite to the sensation as his other arm held Tyler, supporting him while he recovered.

  Tyler gasped for breath, his head hanging, legs shaky, sweat trickling down his back under his shirt. Marcus pulled him up and turned him, his arms encircling him.

  “That’s my good boy,” Marcus crooned, stroking Tyler’s hair. “That’s my very good boy.”

  He held him like that for a few minutes, giving Tyler a chance to regain strength in his legs. In a daze, Tyler followed Marcus out of the club and back to the car. Marcus kept a firm grip on Tyler’s hand, wouldn’t let him stop by the bathroom to clean up before leaving.

  “I want you to remember me when you get home,” Marcus teased. He leaned in and kissed Tyler, nipping his bottom lip and pulling. “I want my boy to remember how it felt ha
ving my hand owning his cock, how it felt giving in to me like that.”

  It was nearly one in the morning when Tyler pulled up in front of Bob and Terry’s house. Marcus slanted his mouth over Tyler’s, possessively sweeping his tongue across his teeth. “Pick me up tomorrow night at seven,” he said. “We’ll go back to your place. You can cook me dinner. You don’t need to walk me to the door.” He winked before stepping out of the car. At the front door, he turned and waved at Tyler before walking inside.

  Tyler sat there for a moment, wondering if he’d dreamed the whole thing. But when he got home and stripped in the bathroom, he winced as he peeled his sticky briefs away from his raw and chafed cock.

  Yep. It happened.

  He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it and stood under the spray for nearly half an hour, trying to sort out the events in his mind. He felt like he lost all will around Marcus, had some deep craving to please him, to do what he wanted regardless of the consequences or any doubts he had at the time.

  He thought about the man bound to the bench and about “puppy.” Both men obviously enjoyed what they were doing.

  Would he ever truly be comfortable enough with himself or anyone else to let go like that? To totally cede control to someone else?

  He wanted to. Now, after having a taste of it, he wanted it more than anything.

  Chapter Seven

  Tyler groaned when the alarm went off Monday morning. He’d only had two hours sleep.

  When he reached down to scratch his balls he winced as memories of the previous night came pouring back.

  He started a pot of coffee. While waiting for it to finish brewing, he took a quick wake-up shower, shaved, and dressed. He poured himself a travel mug full before grabbing his bag.

  That’s when his cell rang.

  Already running late, he glanced at the number. Terry and Bob’s phone.

  His heart hammered in his chest as he set down his laptop case and answered.

  “So, how did you sleep, boy?” Marcus’ velvety voice cut through Tyler’s morning confusion and focused his brain on one piercingly clear memory from the night before: the feel of Marcus squeezing his cock through his pants as he came.

  “Not nearly long enough, but well for what I did.”

  “Any regrets?”

  Tyler closed his eyes. “No, Sir. No regrets.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Seven tonight. Drop by and pick me up after you go grocery shopping. I don’t like spicy, but anything else is fair game. I’ll see you tonight. Be a good boy for me today.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  And with that, Marcus hung up.

  Despite still feeling chafed, Tyler’s cock stood up and made its opinion known as Tyler stared at his phone. Now how the bloody hell was he supposed to get any work done today?

  Fortunately, he only had two classes to teach, followed by three student appointments. The classes were easy, freshman-level English classes he could practically sleep through. By four o’clock, when his last student appointment left, he shoved his laptop in its case and bolted from his office for home.

  He didn’t run into Erin or Robert, thank goodness.

  Something easy. Something quick. Something to make an impression. He scoured his memory and cookbooks for something to fit the bill, scribbled out a quick shopping list, took a shower, and made his way to a Publix not too far from Bob and Terry’s. He pulled into their driveway five minutes early. Before he could step out of the car, Marcus walked down the drive with a smile on his face and a small paper bag in his hand.

  He slipped into the passenger seat, leaned over, and gave Tyler a deep hello kiss. “You’re right on time, boy. Excellent.”

  The wave of satisfaction plunging through Tyler’s psyche surprised him. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Marcus set the bag on the floor next to his feet. Tyler suspected if he was supposed to know the contents, Marcus would tell him.

  The older man’s hand settled onto Tyler’s thigh, firmly squeezed, and remained there. When they reached Tyler’s apartment, Marcus helped him trundle the groceries inside. Then he looked around.

  “So, this is where the magic happens, hmm?”

  Tyler wasn’t sure what he meant. His obvious confusion amused Marcus. “Your writing. Genius at work.”

  Tyler blushed as he unpacked the groceries. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Marcus laughed and stepped behind Tyler, not quite touching. “I would,” he murmured in Tyler’s ear, sending a shiver through his body. Marcus stroked a finger down Tyler’s jaw. “I most certainly would say that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marcus stepped away, into the living room, to look out the front windows. Tyler lived on the second floor and admittedly had a nice view of a neighboring wetlands area. Sometimes he caught sight of birds, squirrels, and other wildlife.

  “How do you enjoy living in Florida compared to England?” Marcus asked.

  How indeed? “There’s no comparison.”

  “So you miss London?”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to live in that bloody place ever again,” Tyler growled. He’d never felt happier than the day his U.S. citizenship became official.

  Marcus turned, amused. “Really? Why is that?”

  And that’s how, nearly an hour later, as Tyler completed his dinner preparations, he managed to spill what few secrets remained left in his life to Marcus.

  He surveyed the spread. Salad, vegetables, beef stroganoff. A nice wine. Garlic bread. Strawberry shortcake with fresh-baked shortcake for dessert. Tyler had refused Marcus’ offer to help. The other man sat at the small two-person table in the kitchen and watched Tyler cook, prompting him with more questions, talking with him.

  “Well,” Tyler said, looking at the spread, “I suppose we’re ready to eat.”

  “Not quite.” Marcus stood, pinned Tyler against the counter and deeply kissed him.

  Tyler again felt helpless, turned himself over to the other man. After a moment, Marcus lifted his head. “Strip,” he hoarsely ordered.

  “What?”

  Marcus smiled. “I have a little something for you.” He caught Tyler’s hand and led him into the living room. He left Tyler standing in front of the couch as he settled on it. “I’m hungry. The sooner you do this, the sooner we can eat that delicious meal you’ve prepared.”

  “Strip?”

  Marcus arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that a problem?”

  Tyler met his grey eyes, studied him, then looked at the floor as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Marcus settled back on the couch with a smile on his face. “Very good,” he cooed. “That’s my good boy.”

  Tyler’s skin flushed with pleasure at the endearment.

  His.

  Not even Erin had ever filled him with that kind of feeling before. Now, as he dropped his shirt to the floor and started working on his slacks, he realized how empty his marriage had felt. Like he’d constantly chased her for affection.

  In a way, that’s exactly what he’d done. She’d never felt like she wanted to take ownership of their relationship, much less him as her husband. She’d wanted a body in her bed, a person on her arm, a dinner on the table—all under her own conditions.

  She’d never truly wanted him the way he’d wanted her.

  He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his slacks.

  “Look at me,” Marcus softly commanded.

  Tyler lifted his gaze and fell into the other man’s grey eyes. Piercing, intense.

  “Come here.”

  Tyler stepped forward until he stood in front of him. He spotted the small paper bag on the couch next to Marcus. Marcus patted his thigh. “I want you facedown, right here. Across my lap.” Marcus’ eyes held his, waiting.

  Tyler complied, embarrassed that his cock hardened.

  But Marcus seemed pleased at that. “That’s my sweet boy.” One palm caressed Tyler’s ass as the other stroked his back. “You have such a nice ass, boy. I can’t beli
eve I’m the lucky one who gets to be the very first to appreciate it.”

  Tyler’s eyes dropped shut. He fought the urge to work his hips against Marcus’ lap as the man continued stroking his flesh.

  Tyler heard the rattle of the paper bag, and a plastic snick sound, like a flip-top bottle being opened. Marcus slipped one hand between Tyler’s thighs and spread his legs apart just a little. “Hold still, boy. This will feel weird at first, but you’re going to love it.

  The hand on Tyler’s back grew firm, holding him in place as the other slowly worked between his cheeks, finding his virgin rim and carefully massaging him.

  Tyler didn’t bother trying to suppress his moan.

  He felt cool lube against his skin as Marcus’ skilled fingers slowly and gently probed him, not quite entering. “That’s it, boy. Relax and enjoy it.” One finger slowly penetrated. Tyler’s fist clenched as he gave up the fight to keep his hips still. His cock throbbed against Marcus’ iron thigh.

  “Breathe, baby. Push against me. Let me in.”

  Tyler felt the finger slide in. His hips bucked as Marcus hit a sweet spot inside him. Anticipating this, Marcus’ other hand pressed down more firmly. “That’s right, baby. Relax and enjoy it. It’ll feel even better here in a minute.” He spent time loosening Tyler before he added a second finger to his dark hole.

  Tyler groaned.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Tyler gasped.

  Marcus’ rumbling chuckle almost sent Tyler over the edge. “Don’t you dare come,” Marcus warned. “I haven’t given you permission to do that.” He replaced two fingers with three, and Tyler clenched his teeth to hold on to his fraying control. Just when he thought he couldn’t hold back any longer, Marcus withdrew his hand. The sudden emptiness startled Tyler. He shifted his hips up, trying to regain contact.

  “Not yet, boy. I’ve got something else for you.”

  Tyler kept his eyes closed as he felt more lube. Something not made of flesh pressed against his entrance.

  “Push against me,” Marcus commanded.

  Tyler did, gasping as the butt plug smoothly slid home.