The warm creature trapped beneath me easily draws my first smile of the day. As I trace my finger along the edge of his hair line, I find last night’s request lingering in his soft, brown eyes. Certainly, Dane has known from early on in our relationship that he could count on Master Marcus to do whatever needed to be done. Now, he knows that he can ask just about anything of me—though the boy doesn’t seem to realize what I imagined he wanted nor that I most likely would have delivered.
“Good morning, Dane.”
“Would you care to hear my morning report?” Twinkle, twinkle, little eyes.
“I’m on the edge of the mattress here.”
Dane’s grin grows into a full-on smile, and he wriggles his body even closer to mine, nuzzling into my chest with his cheek. “Best sleep of my life.” The sweet ring of contentment in his sing-song sigh fills me with deep satisfaction.
“Me too, Dane.” Part of me wonders whether revealing more of my feelings for him might bring Dane an even greater sense of peace. Are we a line graph? As x grows, so grows y? Which of us could claim to be the independent variable? Good lord, have I really turned our feelings into an algebra problem?
“Mmm,” he hums, turning his lips to my skin. “Is there anything I can do for you this morning, Master?”
And I’m hard. Not just mildly interested, but rock solid, morning-petrified-wood hard. A subtle roll of my hip tells me Dane is too. Damn, did he just nibble on my nipple?
Let me think about it for a minute here. Hmmm . . . Climbing out of the warm blankets to greet another gray, winter day in the city . . . or letting Frisky Dane having his way with me?
Dropping a kiss on top of his head, I flop onto my back and tuck my hands under my pillow. “I think you know what to do, boy.”
Dane’s smile lights up the room as he kneels by my side and picks up with his tongue where his teeth left off. Twenty minutes later, every square inch of me has been licked and stroked, and the parts requiring further attention have received exactly what they needed. The only person who might be happier than I am right now is grinning up at me from between my legs. I love the way he swoons as I riffle my fingers through his hair.
“Come here, you.”
Crawling up my body, Dane settles into the niche below my shoulder without expectation—or even prediction, I’d venture to guess. I roll onto my side to kiss him, skimming my palm down his smooth, perfect chest. Dane starts to turn toward me, but I lock him in place by throwing my leg over his thighs. He groans when he realizes I’ve trapped him on his back. Swallowing his noises of surprise and arousal with hard, deep kisses, I tease my way down his body with light brushes of my fingertips. Dane strains beautifully for me as conflicting sensations of pleasure and agony convert his whole being into a taut cable.
He has no way to retreat from the tickling, so I use it sparingly—just enough to keep him right on that edge. I can’t help but picture the boy bound to my cross, strapped down tight, begging to come from the brush of a feather. The image leaves me drunk with greed, and my kisses and strokes are equally demanding. I don’t let him up for air until he’s about to come, and his whole upper body heaves with the effort of drawing oxygen while his abdomen jackknifes with his release.
My beautiful boy, my perfect prisoner, my eager lover.
Tipped onto my side, head propped up in my hand, I watch while he catches his breath. “Since you did such a wonderful job taking charge last night, I thought I’d give you the choice for today’s activity—swimming or karate?”
He lifts his arms over his head and treats us both to a luxurious stretch of his entire length from fingertips to toes before answering. Characteristically thoughtful, Dane turns his head and asks, “Are you watching or swimming?”
Flat-out watching seems a bit pervy, even for me, but Dane would hardly believe I’m not going to look—nor should he. “Both.”
Dane chuckles. “Swimming, please.”
I’d rather suspected that. “Did you pack your suit?”
“No. Between the show and . . . well, you, the last thing I had on my mind was swimming. I’m sorry. Why, did you bring yours?”
I’m already grinning, whether over his adorable excuses or the fact that my swimsuit is from the last century, I can’t say. “No.”
Dane can hardly contain his smirk. “I don’t think they allow skinny dipping at the Y.”
“Not for several decades now,” I answer. Does he even know they all used to swim in the buff?
“Hmm, what are we going to do about this?”
I roll my eyes and tweak his closer nipple. Dane complains with a mild, “Ow!” but he’s laughing now.
“Well, Dane, I don’t see where we have a choice, do you?”
“No, Master. Looks like we’re going bathing suit shopping this morning!”
“Looks like. How about you get that sweet ass of yours into the shower?”
“I’ve noticed you always make me go first.” Dangerously close to subversive, he gives me his most innocent puppy dog eyes as he scoots toward the edge of the bed.
“That’s because you always make it so damn interesting to watch you go.”
Throwing me a playful grin, Dane scissors his legs in the air and pushes off the bed with his elbows, and frankly, I couldn’t begin to describe the move, but damn! He follows it up with some flying leap that takes him the full distance to the bathroom door, and I just want to watch the whole thing happen in slow motion about a thousand more times.
Beautiful boy will be the death of me, but until such time as my heart or my penis gives out, I am going to enjoy the glorious ride.
Turns out this deal with making Dane shower first has other perks. He’s already dressed and setting out our breakfast when I emerge from the bedroom after spending longer than I’d care to admit selecting today’s boxer briefs. His back is to the doorway as he plunges the Keurig lever and pushes the brew button, so it takes me a second to realize he’s on the phone.
“Yes, Daniel Craig, you know the scene . . . I know, it’s perfect for him . . . chuckle . . . right . . . ahh, La Perla, got it . . . mmhmm, yes, I know where that is, Ri . . . pffft, yes, oh, fashion master, bikini for me . . . no, you better not. Oh, shit! Tell Sean I’ll see him tomorrow. I have to go. Master is giving me the stink eye.” Dane turns away from my scowling face and slides his phone onto the counter as if I’ll simply forget he’s been caught with his tongue in the cookie jar. “Your coffee, Master.”
He places the mug onto the table and risks a glance at me. I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, watching him squirm. He’s quite the sight to see in his dark-wash jeans and a long-sleeved, dark red waffle shirt I haven’t seen before but I’ll certainly want to see again.
“Uh-oh,” he says, immediately straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back.
“You did not just invite Riley shopping with us.”
“No, Master,” he answers, shaking his head fiercely. “Just consulting the expert—like you told me.”
His cheeks are bright pink, and his eyes are wide.
“Get over here, Dane.”
He’s right in front of me before the command leaves my lips. I cup his chin with one hand and kiss the shit out of him while he stands there with his hands behind his back. I release him gently from my lips but hold onto that chin and run my thumb across his mouth.
“You think that suit from Casino Royale is gonna look good on me?”
I narrow my eyes, just fucking with him a little longer. “You don’t have a thing for Daniel Craig, do you?”
Dane drops his eyes and clears his throat before looking back up.
I grip his chin a wee bit tighter. “Dane?”
“Um . . .”
I chuckle as I lean in to kiss him again. How fucking lucky am I to find a man like Dane who was already predisposed to fall for a guy like me? It’s ridiculous.
“What’s for breakfast, Dane?”
“Oh, uh . . .” Good grief, he’s star struck and blushing. “I figured we’d do yogurt and berries now, maybe eat a little heartier after we swim. I always get ravenous when I swim.”
With a hand around his waist, I spin him around and guide him toward the table. “If we get you the suit I have in mind, I’ll be ravenous before we ever get near the pool.”
“Same here, Master,” Dane replies, shaking his head as he sits down next to me.
Somehow, I manage to drink my coffee without dribbling it down my shirt because of the ridiculous smile plastered on my face. The smile stays with me during breakfast and even through the cab ride to the store and only fades when I’m handed “my size” off the rack of 007-inspired suits inside the La Perla boutique.
“Good god! Where’s the rest of it?”
Jeffrey, our self-appointed “fashion concierge” offers little comfort. “It stretches.”
I flip the thing around, tugging experimentally and trying to visualize myself inside it. “It’s actually not the covered bits that scare me so much as what’s bound to ooze out around the edges.”
My whole being is screaming, “NO! DON’T DO THIS!” and my instincts are rarely wrong. I press the hanger into Jeffrey’s hands with a sad shake of my head.
“Sorry, this isn’t for me. What else you got?”
The guy looks at me like I just landed a right hook on his chin. I turn to Dane with a can-you-believe-this-guy smirk, only to find he’s as disappointed as Jeffrey.
“Oh shit. Really, Dane?”
He offers a sad shrug. “Maybe you could try it on?”
Fucking hell. As if I’d refuse him. “Fine, but I’m not coming out of the dressing room.”
Dane’s eyes light up with gratitude I don’t deserve. “Deal.”
With the hateful suit in one hand, I take Dane’s hand in the other. “Let’s see those bikinis, Jeffrey.”
He shoots Dane a wink that leaves Dane blushing and me shaking my head. “You know you’re killing me, Dane. A little bit each day.”
The boy has the good graces to agree. “I know.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in side-by-side dressing rooms, stripping down to nothing but skin. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve bought myself clothing, and even then, bathing suits were an item to be grabbed off the rack and tried on at home. The only thing getting me through this mortifying experience is the slice of open wall at the bottom of the separator offering me a glimpse of Dane’s dark purple briefs sliding over his bare feet. Naked Dane next door is the best kind of distraction.
“I want to see the blue one on you first,” I tell him.
His chuckle fills the space in both our rooms. “I kind of guessed that.”
Cheeky bastard is stirring my cock, damn him. I sort out front from back of my flimsy suit and step into it. The stretchy material clings to my thighs as I glide it upward and settle it low on my hips. The pouch wasn’t designed to conceal an erection of this magnitude, and when I turn to the mirror, the fluorescent lights point a thousand watts of light right there. Wonderful.
Dane’s door clicks open and shut, and two bare feet appear under my door. I’ve massaged them and washed them and probably even kissed them before, but they’ve always been attached to a whole body I could see at the same time. Odd how on their own, bare against the bamboo flooring, they’re decidedly erotic. Yes, they’re the overworked feet of a dancer, but at the same time, they’re all Dane—slender, youthful, well-groomed, and graceful.
It’s well and good that I appreciated his feet before opening the door to my bathing suit fantasy because once my eyes fill up with blue heaven, the rest of him just doesn’t stand a chance. I don’t know how many seconds pass while I stand there stupid and mute, completely unable to motivate my eyeballs to move outside the triangle of are-you-fucking-kidding-me defined by the delicious contours of his tight abdomen and the poetry of his artistically sculpted thighs. Dane stands as patiently as ever while my hungry gaze slowly rides up his belly, between the sharpened twin pink buds, up the elegant stem of his neck, and reaches his . . . smile?
My focus leaps to his eyes, and I realize at once what has him so amused—my ridiculous excuse for a bathing suit, which I had entirely forgotten once he stepped into view. I lift my arms out to my sides in surrender. “Get a good, long, haaard look, Dane, because you won’t ever see this again.”
His smile falls. “Why not?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I look reeDICKulous?”
He actually looks surprised and even more disappointed than before. “Master, you look really hot in that. I mean . . . I’m . . .” Dane thrusts his hips just enough to draw my gaze. Well, hello there. That wasn’t there a few seconds ago.
I suppose I could at least take a look at myself in the mirror before making a snap judgment. Turning my back to Dane, I take a deep breath, suck in and tighten anything that will respond, and level my stare at my midsection. A harsher critic than myself I have never found, so I’m certainly prepared for the worst. What I find instead is . . . Wow, is that me?
Pivoting to one side, I confirm that the back looks as good as the front. Not exactly James Bond, but not the Marcus I was expecting either. I catch Dane’s face in the mirror—he already knows what I see: my best self, the one I have only seen since I’ve been looking out through his eyes. I can’t hide the tears welling up any more successfully than I can cover my arousal.
With a crook of my finger, I beckon him to the mirror. He steps all the way inside my little room and releases the door he’d been holding open. He drifts past me as directed, then does a slow spin so I can appreciate the rest. Every inch of space between us is agony. My fingers tingle with the need to touch him, and I resist until I can’t any longer.
Making a split-second decision, I reach out and cup the curve of his ass, catching that sweet sliver of cheek peeking out at the edge of the suit. “Fuck!” The word falls softly from my lips just before they land on his shoulder. I close my eyes and brush my thumb along the soft fabric. “Dane, I swear . . .” Uh-oh, here it comes. “. . . sometimes, I think this can’t be real. You’re too good to be true.”
He spins in my hand and wraps his arms around my neck. Even through the blur of my tears, I can see his eyes are wet, too. “I feel exactly the same way about you, Master.”
We have ourselves a beautiful, slow kiss in our sexy new suits. No telling what might’ve happened next if Jeffrey hadn’t knocked just then. “Do you gentlemen need a size?”
Obviously busted, our kiss breaks into a matched pair of smiles, but we hold our embrace. “No, thank you. We have everything we need in here, Jeffrey. And you can ring up both suits. We’ll be wearing them out.”
GAH! Can you imagine it? These two boys...they make me NUTS! They won't stop hitting me with ideas, and once it implants...forget it! #neverendingstory
I guess you know where we're going next? XXX
I guess you know where we're going next? XXX