Dom of Ages (3 page)

“I promise I’ll show up sometime,” I swore.

Ben wasn’t finished. “I’ve already talked with Leo and Thomas about you. My recommendation carries a lot of weight, and I don’t think there is anything in your background that would cause problems.”

Ben was a nurturer. Once he’d gotten his head out of his arse, he’d helped Scott grow as a sub and as a person. His young man was now an accomplished writer of children’s books, and traveled around to schools and libraries to give readings of his most popular story, “Puppy Pile.”
What would it be like to help someone reach their potential like that?

“Do you ever regret meeting Scott?”

“What? Absolutely not. I regret the way I almost cocked it up, that’s for sure, but I’ve never for a single moment regretted having my boy in my life. He’s… funny, charming, infuriating, loving, cheeky, obstinate, and he completes me.”

“Who’s the Dom here?” I joked.

“Sod off. When you meet the right person, there is no
way
you’ll ever want to let him go.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you know what he asked me the other day? If I’d ever thought about having kids.”

That brought me up short. “And what did you say?”

“Not a lot at first. I asked him why, and he said he wanted to be a better father than the bastard who raised him. He wanted to give a kid love and acceptance. He had a whole argument laid out about why he wanted this, and as I listened, I found myself thinking about it too. I even called Annie to talk about it. She said that she would be honored to be our surrogate if we decided to go ahead. Paco is all for it too.”

Ben with kids. Never saw that coming.

“Listen, we should get together, you, me, and Scott. We can hit the bars or go dancing.”

My chest tightened. No
way
did I want to be a third wheel hanging out with those two. Scott gazed at Ben like he hung the moon and stars, and when they were together, Ben only had eyes for his boy.

Yeah, they would make amazing parents.

“Maybe,” I said. “We can discuss it next week.”

The parking lot was in sight, and we slowed to a brisk walk to cool down. We didn’t say much more until Ben got to his seen-better-days Focus and I got to my truck. Each of us grabbed a towel and patted the sweat from our bodies.

“Same time next week?” I asked.

“Absolutely, but I think we’re ready to up the distance a little. Say, three miles?”

There was a time before his accident when we’d managed ten, but three was definitely an improvement on the one or two we slogged through these days. Though I wasn’t complaining. Ben was getting stronger, but it was up to me to make sure he didn’t push himself too far.

“Sounds good to me.”

We said our good-byes, and he headed off. My house was about forty minutes from the park, so it took a while to get there. I walked in and noted the time. I had about an hour before I had to be at work, so I started a pot of coffee, grabbed some toast, and then jumped in the shower.

As I soaped my body, the conversation with Ben kept playing over and over in my head, and my stomach churned with what I could only describe as jealousy. I didn’t begrudge him having Scott, because the young man had opened up avenues for Ben that he’d never considered. But it occurred to me I was stagnating. I had no one. I’d never had a sub for more than a few hours at the club. It was fine for what it was, but the thought of doing it again left me hollow deep down.

My shift crawled by. I had a delivery to make to Birmingham, only to find out that the person who ordered it never told anyone I was coming. I had to wait for someone in charge to come down and let me back up to the cargo dock to unload the crates. What should have been a three-hour job turned into an all-day affair. When I finally got home, I took another quick shower, and pulled out my harness and some black leather pants with snaps up the side for getting out of them quickly.

By the time I was ready to go, it was already nearing ten o’clock, and I had another full day ahead of me tomorrow. I had second thoughts about what I was doing. If I went to the club, I would have only a few hours before I’d need to come home. I figured it would be enough time for a quickie in the public room, but not enough time to maybe get to know someone.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the urge to get out of the house. I liked my place well enough. It was small by most standards, but it was plenty for me. Some nights, though, I just needed to get out and clear my head. Tonight was one of those.

I got back into my truck and drove to Spitfire, which was only about fifteen minutes away. I winced as I approached. I could hear the thumping bass even though I was still a couple of streets away. I signed inwardly. This club had really gone downhill, and maybe it was time for me to find something new. Or maybe it was time to give up my dream of finding that special person and prepare to buy hand lotion by the barrel and find a good site for streaming porn.

The doorman gave me a nod as I walked up and showed my card. There was a line of people outside the door, and every one of them was indistinguishable from the next. Twinks with gelled hair, done up in skinny jeans and T-shirts that would probably cost me a week’s salary. A couple of them tried to get my attention as I was led to the door, but I ignored them. I wasn’t in the mood for teenagers thinking they were going to run with the grown-ups.

The crowd was packed into the place, and everywhere I looked I saw almost no leather. A bunch of posers who preened and showed off their muscles to anyone who paid them any mind. This was my idea of hell. A place that took all the popular thoughts on BDSM and brought them to life. A few years ago, this place would have been ripe with the smell of leather, the sounds of skin on skin contact, and the cries of subs who were tasting the flogger or whip of a Dom. Now it was a place to be seen and thought of itself as edgy.

I sat at the bar and ordered a tonic and lime. The bartender slid it in front of me and gave me a smile. “Lots of people tonight, huh? Bet you’ll find someone here if, y’know, that’s what you’re after.”

I glanced at him. He wasn’t necessarily a twink, but he wasn’t my idea of a guy I’d spend time with. I liked men who looked and acted like men. Someone who, when he submitted to me, would be doing so because he acknowledged my dominance over him, and when we were done would appreciate the scene. The last time I had been with someone who claimed to be a sub, he didn’t even know what a safe word was, and that meant no play at all.

I sipped my drink and thought about wandering around the room, but there were so many people, it would be almost impossible to get from one side to the other. Instead I decided to stay at the bar, finish my drink, and go home.

One drink became two, then three. Before I knew it, I’d been sitting there for nearly two hours, getting thoroughly pissed off. Then I happened to look in the direction where the subs gathered, and I saw
him
.

He was an older man, maybe late forties, and he was kneeling, with his eyes down. His hair was dark brown, peppered with gray. A little soft around the middle, but it was obvious he took care of himself: his biceps were well-defined, his chest held a bit of tone. A few times someone would approach, and I would see his breathing quicken, but ultimately they’d walk away with one of the toy boys, and he’d be left visibly disappointed. I gestured to the bartender and nodded toward the man.

“What’s up with him?”

The bartender laughed, the sound lacking mirth.

“I thought he was a Dom when he strolled in, what with the way he dressed an’ all. He’s been kneeling there for almost an hour now.”

There was no way that man was a Dom. His bearing, the way he wouldn’t look up to meet anyone’s eyes, and the stance he took screamed submissive. I was intrigued. Hell, I was beyond excited. I tossed a bill onto the bar, grabbed my glass, and strode over to where the sub knelt. His posture was as good as any I’d ever seen.

I
had
to know more about him. I took two steps in his direction when I got waylaid by a perky little thing with fluffy pink hair and dark eyeliner. He looked like a troll doll.

“Good evening, Sir. Would you like to visit one of the private rooms?”

I rolled my eyes. “Good subs don’t petition to be taken to the rooms. They wait until they’re asked,” I reminded the willowy young man in front of me.

“I’m not a good sub, Sir,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes at me. “I need to be punished.”

He rubbed up against me. It was awkward as hell, but I pulled back. “Not tonight. Find someone else to play with. I’m going home soon.”

He practically purred when he put his hands on my chest and gazed into my eyes. “I could come with you.”

“You could, but I’m not interested in someone who wants to play. You show no respect, you’re a pretend sub, and I don’t get into that.”

His eyes revealed his shock. He turned and stormed away, leaving me with a wide grin on my face. The last thing I needed was a poseur. I glanced back toward where I’d noticed the man. Another guy was standing behind him, whispering in his ear. A look of hope bloomed on the sub’s face, but it quickly turned to sadness as the man barked out a laugh, then said something to him, before walking away. He could not have looked more hurt if they’d kicked him. I needed to know what his story was. Hell, if nothing else, he was easily the most interesting person here tonight.

Jarod

I EYED
the other subs enviously as they preened for the Doms, each hoping to spend an hour in a private room with one of them. I felt like a kid again, always the last one picked for sports. The looks I got ranged from amused to withering. I couldn’t believe I’d subjected myself to this. What was worse, I’d actually expected a different outcome.

I sighed deeply. Who was I fooling? I wasn’t twenty anymore. Hell, I wasn’t even
twice
that. The Doms wanted someone younger, someone trainable, or, failing that, someone who could give them a hot fuck. I had talents in that department from the many years I had served Master Phillip, but since he died, I’d been a submissive who had no one to serve.

“And what are
you
supposed to be?” a voice near my ear snapped.

“My name is Jarod, Sir,” I answered quietly, my heart thumping so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

There was a low growl. “I didn’t ask your name. I asked what you think you’re doing here.”

Heaven help me, I told him the truth. “Searching for someone to serve, Sir.”

His braying laugh mocked me. When he saw I was serious, he sobered. “No one is going to take you. No master is going to have
you
.” Then in a softer voice he added, “Go home. You don’t belong here.”

He was right, of course. It was time I admitted that to myself. This was a world that wasn’t like the one I’d been part of. When Master Phillip and I went to the clubs, there was an understanding. People were respectful, even if they weren’t interested in whatever was going on. This club was awful. It was full of young men strutting around like peacocks, each trying to show off more plumage than the next.

It was time to stop kidding myself. There was no reason for me to stay any longer. I’d be on my way, and then everyone would probably have a good laugh at my expense. At least in that, I would have made
someone
happy. I was about to stand when I felt a hand on my shoulder and smelled the leather.

“What is it you want?”

His breath smelled of mint. It wafted over my face and made my stomach clench with nerves. “To serve, Sir.”

Silence. I waited for it, the inevitable comeback, the jeer, the insult….

“That’s a very good answer, boy. Very good indeed. Stand and turn.”

I rose to my feet and faced the man whose voice gave me butterflies. When I saw him, my heart dropped and crushed them all to dust. The man was handsome, I would never say otherwise, but he was a child. I wanted a Master to serve, not to be a toy for a youngster who would grow bored with me the next time a pretty pony boy pranced by.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jarod, Sir,” I replied, cursing my cracking voice.

He held out his hand and took mine. His grip was firm and warm, and a jolt of electricity ran through me at his touch.

“It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Eli.”

His name was like a caress. There was a gentleness to his voice that had me feeling as though everything might be okay after all. I tried to be surreptitious about it as I looked him over, and he laughed.

“You don’t need to hide anything from me. If you want to look at me, go ahead.”

I raised my head and marveled at how his green eyes shone in the bright lights. His short, spiky hair was dark, but with the colored lights flashing, it was hard to tell what color it was. I had the insane urge to run my fingers through it. He was about my height, and the way those black leather pants clung to his muscular thighs, I really wanted to see his legs. He was slender, but with good definition: it wasn’t a six-pack, but I wouldn’t have minded running my hands over it.

“Aren’t you a bit old for this, Jarod?” His voice was deep, and my skin pebbled at his tone. With a shock I realized he wasn’t mocking me; he was genuinely curious.

Once more I felt compelled to speak the truth. “No, Sir. I-I don’t believe I am.”

His fingers traced along my neck, running gently across my throat. I swallowed hard. It was so different from the treatment I’d received from everyone else here.

“Would you like to play?”

And with those words my heart dropped. “No. I’d rather not.” I was shocked to hear the words come from my mouth. Never before had I told a Sir no, but it seemed to be a night for honesty.
Of all the times to be honest, though….
I remained still, awaiting his imminent departure.

“Good. I’m glad. I’m not here to play either.” He was quiet for a moment. “I want you to come home with me. Would that be okay?”

My breath caught.
What the hell?
He was so different from everyone else in this club. My heartbeat sped up. “Yes, please.” My damn voice squeaked again.