Don't... (23 page)

“Well,” said Jan, and I heard him sip at his coffee. “You’re no use to anyone ill, that’s all I’m saying.”

What a difference a few days make. What the fuck had Gray said to him? Even though I’d served two plates, I lost my appetite. “I’ll be sure to,” I said, putting my plate in the oven to keep warm as Jan ate.

“What?” said Jan, taking some of the steak into his mouth.

I took up my place just behind him, hands held behind my back, head down. “Cut my shower time,” I said quietly, and I was greeted with a “uh-huh.” This was a hard side to see in him.

Halfway through dinner, Jan asked for another coffee, and I set about making him another. I’d have killed for a drink, if honest. I hadn’t had a coffee since dinnertime, and then it had been lukewarm by the time Sam had finished his huddled conversation with Steve. The kid was avoiding me at all costs. Not something I minded as a rule, but when it came to coffee, I liked it hot enough to melt my tongue. Sam was trying, but it was that painful and awkward that even Steve was caught wincing at times. At least Gray had sorted out my windows, although he hadn’t been impressed when he’d found out security had been made to chase (and consequently lose) one of my employees (Sam must have moved damn quick that night, the bloody ferret). Said it was all my fault for getting careless and soft. Gray was all heart. I handed Jan his coffee and settled back into position to wait for him to finish eating.

“You’re a good cook, Jack,” said Jan, and he pushed his plate away. He’d eaten most of it, steak, mushrooms, left the onions but polished the potatoes off. Didn’t he like them? I made a mental note: no onions, just the onion sauce.

“Would you like some dessert?”

“No.” Jan gave a little stretch. “I don’t want anything else.”

I felt Jan’s gaze on me as I took the plate over to the dishwasher and bent and added the plate to the tray and cutlery.

“You not eating, Jack?” His voice sounded a little lower, slower. I glanced over to see his eyes had darkened, giving a flicker of that sultry need that was almost hidden by the now-dry hair that windswept his eyes. He seemed to be fighting the need to stay in control of the situation, and was doing a lousy job at the same time.

“I’ll have something later.” As I spoke, Jan pushed his chair back slightly from the table, body now side-on to me.

“Be sure you do.” This was the longest we’d spent together in a room. Usually Jan would eat, go do work in his office, sl—

“Jack, will you kneel there on the floor for me, please?”

Please.
No order. Just Jan. It was strange, I’d spent most of my life never really finding any release until I disobeyed. It came with its own high, like having a knife bleed out the stress. But with Jan, when he asked, when he spoke as a lover to a lover... I knelt, hands in my lap, towel dropped somewhere on the kitchen floor.

“Drop your head for me, Jack. Please.”

I lowered my chin to my chest, knees now slightly apart. It was a meditative stance I took on many occasions, and tonight was the first time I’d felt calm doing it naked, that I liked the feel of doing it naked wearing a collar.

“Christ, Jack,” breathed Jan. “Do you know how you haunt every inch of my fucking dreams looking like that?”

I risked a look up, just a glance through my fringe. It felt so good to hear him like this; I needed to
see
him like this.

He looked torn between relaxed and defeated. I loved that on him. If I still made him feel like that, then there was hope. Maybe, just maybe he wasn’t entirely turned off by the role he was supposed to be taking.

“Come here, Jack.” More of a command, more of a need, so much of a damn sexy pull. I went and knelt between his legs.

For long moments he stared at me, one hand resting on the table, the other resting with ease in his lap. I knelt there, just watching him back, hands resting between my thighs, just enjoying
seeing
him. He gave a slight frown, then something else fought with the lust in his eyes: loss, hurt, and right then I wanted nothing more than to break this standoff, pull him down to me, kiss him deep, maybe never let him go, say fuck to the contract, and just let our hearts and minds have free reign.

“Can I touch you, sir?” I said quietly, and he nodded, tears held back in his eyes. The cut to his lip had healed, leaving behind just a fading skirmish. I needed him to know I could be gentle, that I could
touch
gently, and that I’d rather cut off my hand over hurting him again.

“Please,” he said just as quietly.

I kissed the inside of his left thigh. Just a slight touch, then a gentle tease of teeth on material, capturing the skin underneath, a gentleness that caused Jan to mumble into the quiet of the kitchen. I let my hands come slowly into play too, tracing up the fine trouser line, all the time moving closer to his groin with my bites. Nuzzling in close, I felt his cock swollen and full against my cheek, almost breaking material to get free and find my mouth. I brushed my nose against it, letting my breath play over the tailored material, knowing it would heat, play havoc with his tip, with Jan’s mind.

Jan squirmed, groaned, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Cute, like his little kiss to the tip of my nose that night in my kitchen. He sounded so lute-like in the heat of sex, soft, gentle, something that could force you to follow him blindly into the woods and not give a fuck that he led you to be eaten by the big bad wolf. But he wasn’t a big bad wolf. Not yet. And a part of me wanted him to fail so badly, so I kept the gentle, soft man I’d fallen head over heart for, to keep him, squirming into the pleasure he so easily allowed to show.

I flicked the clasp to his trousers. He was hard, the head fully engorged and slick under my thumb. Even Gray, with all his cool and collectedness, couldn’t hide this one last giveaway to need, and I fucking loved seeing it on Jan now too.

“Mine.”

At first I thought I’d missed it. What Jan had said had been nothing more than a whisper, then as a grip tightened in my hair and the word fell with more force once again, I groaned and quickly cupped my own balls. That was Jan. My Jan. And if this was the concept behind the collar, tenderness, whispered love, I’d willingly wear it for the rest of my life. I rested my head on Jan’s thigh and sighed out how much I missed him.

“Just for me, Jack. I know it’ll hurt, just please control it.”

I screwed my eyes closed, just briefly. I was already swelling into the cage, and my shift of body was an undeniable sign how much Jan got under my skin. That fresh scent of rain mixed with Jan’s muskiness, and I kissed his root, loving the mix, wanting to drink it. His dick was thick in my hand, long, almost defying logic with how his slim frame hid it in his trousers, and I shivered into the memory of having it inside me. I nibbled at the base, and Jan’s cock shivered under the care.

“Jack,” Even his voice seemed to have melted into the chair, and I loved how I could take him there.

One long lick, starting root to almost tip, won another murmur of my name, and I rested my mouth inches from his head, just letting my breath play across the redness, enjoying how it cried in desperate need to be tongued. My own groan escaped, my swelling pushing hard against the cock cage. It drove me nuts, and I shifted my mouth closer, intent on taking as much as I could, loving how he wore no condom and how his calm need washed away everything else that threatened to surface in me.

A sudden
humph
off Jan, he pushed at my shoulders, and I jerked away, forced to put a hand behind to stop me from falling.

He was looking around. “Are... hmm, are you clean?” Up on his feet, shirt seeming to quickly pull the curtain on his excitement, Jan looked down at me. “Are you fucking
clean
?”

“What?” I said. Although sickness churned my stomach, I knew full well what he meant, and it was fuck all to do with being clean. I’d seen this reaction with trainees before, letting go, then suddenly remembering the cameras were there, freezing, then trying to reinsert authority by shifting focus from the real problem. And with Jan, thoughts on cameras had led to a whole host of others, including who I’d slept with. Reassurance was the best option, but Jan had frozen me out. “You’ve read my file, Jan. All tests are up to date.” I was bloody OCD, for God’s sake.

There was a battle in his eyes to try and recover the scene. “It was just a fucking piece of paper. With Gray’s talents, he could have got anyone to doctor that.”

Jesus. “Jan—” This was going to end in a bad way.

“
Sir
.”

I was up on my feet, but the shout of that word stopped me in my tracks.

“You’re supposed to say
sir.
” He not only looked pissed, he sounded it. “I hear you call my name again, I’ll drag you in front of Gray, we clear?”

What the hell could I say? “Sir.” I took a step back to ease the stress he was feeling. “All medical records are dealt with by an independent adjudicator, with their own medical teams. Clients—”

“Cli—” Jan let out a laugh, then instantly choked it dry. “How many, Jack? How fucking many have you had?” He looked horrified. “How many have had
you
?”

I dropped my head. This really was going to get us nowhere.

“Fucking answer me when I ask a question.”

“You’re not going to trust what I tell you, sir. Just please trust that my medical records are up-to-date.”

“Trust?” Jan snorted. “Trust this, Jack. You don’t fucking touch me until I get my doctor to confirm you’re clean.”

“Saying that being anything other than clean is dirty?”

“
Don’t
,” shouted Jan, making me jerk. “You don’t get the moral OCD high ground on me, Jack. Not when you’re a fucking Master’s
whore
.”

Yeah, take away all of the layers, I was. But I wasn’t ashamed of the fucking matter. “No. You’re right, I don’t, and I am. If I may, sir, I’d like to go to bed now.”

“Good idea.” Jan looked around the kitchen. “But you get this place cleaned up first.”

“Sir.” He graced me with a glance before he spun on his heels and headed up for his office. I’d been so used to Gray’s company, his constant watching as I trained different Doms, that my complacency, knowing about the Masters’ Circle and their intrusion into lives, I’d forgotten how it could play serious head games with those who weren’t used to being watched 24/7.

Was it really any wonder I was on my knees with my sins on full display?

I binned my dinner, cleaned the kitchen, made sure the security system was on, then headed off to bed. Tomorrow couldn’t get any worse.

Jan had already left for work by the time I padded on down to the kitchen, only his bowl on the breakfast island giving a hint of his presence. I cleaned up, then headed on out to work.

“Oh, come on.” I kicked at my passenger tyre, then crouched to inspect the flat. This was the second one this week. Understandable if my Merc were parked outside mine, but over here at Jan’s? The first one had had a four-inch gash sliced through, too close to the wheel rim for it to have been caused accidentally. This one made it look as though the sod was getting a little cockier, spending time doing a fucking dance on Jan’s drive while he took off the dust cap and let the tyre down. I’d have to have a word with Mike and see why the hell he wasn’t bloody telling me there was someone on the property. An air compressor sat in the boot, but I wasn’t about to waste my time doing that knowing the tyre might be sliced through. I glanced at my watch. Just fucking peachy. I needed to be at work.

I’d arranged today with Steve to start completion of the Strachan deal. It seemed like an eternity, but for a few months now, I’d been chasing an expansion deal with a courier company located in central London. It was a prime location for the couriers, but it left them little room for garage facilities, which meant they were hunting garage owners for the best deal on service and maintenance for a fleet of bikes, cars, and vans. The deal would be enough to secure a dozen or so more employees, and make Steve grin stupidly knowing he was going to have his own place to run if we won the contract. Problem being, my old man had gotten whiff of the deal too (not many hadn’t), and I had a presentation to prepare. Even Steve backed out at this point, which left me with major paperwork to do.

I set to work on the tyre, making a note to get another spare from work. The garage had its perks.

I finally made it into work just ten minutes short of eight, and settled into the presentation. At ten, Steve came up to the office, and I caught how his eyes widened a touch. “Christ, Jack. I really didn’t think you’d made it in today.”

Running through a whole host of projected figures, I was grateful for the interruption, and my eyes got a tired rub. “Strachan, remember?”

Steve came over and handed me his coffee. “How’s it going?”

“Could be better.” My stomach growled in agreement, and I glared down realising I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.

“How about I send Sam over to the café and get you a BLT?”

I think my grin was enough of a reply. I’d have to work it off in a decent training session, but, damn, I was hungry. “Thanks, that’d be real good, Ste.”

He left his coffee, telling me to keep it, and headed for the door.

“What did you want?”

Steve looked back and seemed lost to the day’s client book already. “What?”

“You came up to my office.”

“Oh,” said Steve, and he gave a wink. “Just getting a few ideas for mine.”

“You know I’m up against my old man in this deal, right?”

Steve waved it off. “Just use that charm of yours, Jack. Y’know, smile, bat those baby greys, then promise to knee-cap them with said bat in hand.”

“You’ve been up watching those London gangster movies again, haven’t you?”

“Pfft, you Londoners are pussies. You need to learn from the masters, the Essex bunch.”

I hid a smile as Steve left. The kind of Masters I played with would no doubt have the best running for the hills. Ass-naked, but running for the hills nonetheless. The phone interrupted any other distraction. “Shoot, Sue.”