Room at the Edge (33 page)

“I’m sorry,” Jay said when they were alone. His mango chicken smelled delicious, but he didn’t pick up his fork. Maybe that was as well; it occurred to him that Liam would expect him to ask permission to begin eating.

“Three words,” Liam said as if to himself.

Jay swallowed back another apology. Saying it wouldn’t change anything, and Liam had to know from looking at him that his failure had upset him.

Liam picked up his fork and took a mouthful of green shrimp curry. “This is good.”

“May I eat, Sir?” Jay said, faltering over the words. It just felt so fucking strange to ask to do something as basic as eating. Austin would have gotten a kick out of needing an order to breathe or blink, but for Jay it was less about the rituals, the words, and more that blazingly hot connection between Liam and him during an intense session.

Something told him Liam wanted more than that. Wanted everything: the respect, the deference, and the submission to whatever pain he chose to deal out. Austin gave him that. He couldn’t take the same level of pain Jay could, but he still let Liam take him to that limit without complaint, and he got off on being the perfect sub. Jay wished it was as easy for him, but he couldn’t surrender without a struggle when there was no pain to use as an excuse or a reason.

“I wish I could have you on your knees asking that,” Liam said and took another bite. “If you were down there, I might prefer to hand-feed you. This isn’t the ideal food for that, though. Too messy. It wouldn’t matter if you were naked, of course. Perhaps we can explore that at breakfast.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He wasn’t going to ask again. He wasn’t. His stomach rumbled, the fragrant steam rising to tease his mouth into watering. Liam took a third bite, then a fourth, chewing slowly, before reaching over and swapping his plate for Jay’s. “Eat.”

Jay stared at Liam’s leftovers, incredulity rising. He and Austin ate off each other’s plates often, but this felt different. This wasn’t giving him a taste of Liam’s dish, but a calculated humiliation, a slap in the face. And yeah, okay, he liked those when the moment was right, but this was making his face burn with embarrassment.

He picked up his fork—at least Liam had left him that—and stabbed at a shrimp in an untouched part of the dish.

“Don’t sulk,” Liam said. His voice was low and calm, but somehow that made it scarier. “It’s very unattractive, and you know better. I don’t want to have to correct your behavior again this evening. Are we clear?”

Jay swallowed shrimp and nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

He was hungry, so he decided the best thing to do was focus on the food in front of him and how it tasted. Liam was right about one thing—sulking wouldn’t do him any good. If he needed something else to think about it, he could think about the hot, relentless pain of his clamped nipples and the milder but still determined burn in his mouth from the Thai spices. What would it feel like to get a blowjob from someone whose lips and tongue were covered in the remnants of chilies?

The idea amused him, and he found his mood improved. Liam had finished his wine and half the food on his second plate by the time Jay had eaten, if not enough to be full, enough so that he wasn’t starving anymore. Liam liked it when they didn’t eat heavily before a session, so Jay set down his fork when Liam did and smiled at his Dom.

Liam returned the smile, but there was something about the knowing twist of his lips that made Jay wonder what thoughts or plans were going through his head. Transfixed by that steady gaze, the utter confidence in Liam’s eyes, Jay ignored the insistent throb of his nipples and the imminent agony of having the clamps removed and sat still, waiting for Liam to refuse dessert, pay the bill, and finally, finally gesture Jay to his feet.

Walking without hunching over wasn’t easy, but Liam made Jay walk before him, and with the sure and certain knowledge that Liam was watching every step, Jay tried to move with the smooth grace Liam had trained into him.

When they reached the car, he put his hands on the hood and leaned over, moaning, releasing some of the pain but soon wishing he’d stayed silent. That first whimper led to another, then another, until he was shuddering, that action causing the weighted clamps to sway and tug sharply at him, bringing fresh sounds of agony to his lips.

Liam turned him so that he could hide his face in Liam’s shoulder. “Hurts. Oh God, Sir, they’ve been on so long. Take them off? Please?”

The parking lot was empty of people, Liam’s car between a minivan and a truck. They were private enough for the clamps to be removed, and if Liam shoved a handkerchief in his mouth, Jay could keep the noise down until the fresh wave of pain had faded. Or scream up at the night sky and the hell with anyone who heard, because he couldn’t take another second.

“Of course I’ll take them off,” Liam said and unbuttoned Jay’s shirt with commendable speed.

Then he paused. Jay’s breath was coming in sharp gasps, his hands clenched. What the hell was Liam waiting for?

“Three words spoken out of place,” Liam said reflectively. “Let’s deal with that now, shall we? I think you can pay for them by waiting for three more—”

If Liam said “minutes,” Jay would pass out. Or hit him. Or—

“Seconds,” Liam finished.

Oh. Okay. He could do that. Jay grabbed Liam’s shoulders because he needed to touch him, and nodded.

“Count for me,” Liam said. “Slowly.”

Liam was diabolical. Sweat beaded Jay’s brow, even in the chilly air, but he nodded again and gabbled out, “One, two, three.”

“Slowly,” Liam repeated and touched his finger to one of the weights, tapping it reprovingly.

Jay wanted to slide to his knees, weep, lick Liam’s shoes, beg. He shook his head, blind with the immensity of the pain, and said, “One.”

“Mm,” Liam said encouragingly, flicking at the other weight. The bruises were going to be there for days. He’d have to sleep on his back—but that probably wouldn’t be an option either by the end of the night. His chest was on fire, his nipples excruciatingly tender.

“T-two.”

“Yes?”

Bastard. Sadistic English bastard. God, he loved Liam so fucking much. No one had ever been this cruel, this inflexible before. “Three. Three. Please—”

Liam kissed him hard and somehow managed at the same time to unclamp both nipples. Jay cried out into Liam’s mouth as white-hot agony like needles shot through him, and the only thing that kept him from hitting the pavement when his knees buckled was Liam’s strong, solid arm wrapped around his waist. He clung to Liam, shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks.

He’d never been so turned on in his life. Underneath the clothes Liam had dressed him in, he was ridiculously hard, the tip of his cock wet enough that it had probably left a visible damp spot through the layers of fabric. “Please, Sir,” he gasped, licking at Liam’s mouth.

He could feel Liam’s erection against him, the solid length of it frustratingly hidden behind clothing when he wanted it bared for his mouth to worship. Given the order, he would’ve gone to his knees even with an audience.

He got kissed, Liam’s tongue, warm and forceful, delving deeply into his mouth; got Liam’s hand on the back of his neck, squeezing it in a way that made his skin prickle with goose bumps, but that was all he got.

Voice and movements controlled to such an extent that it gave away how shaken Liam was, Liam stepped back and took out his car keys. “Get in. Fasten your seat belt; then put your hands on your knees. I want them there until we get home. Leave your shirt unbuttoned.”

“I can’t wait—” Jay stopped himself. Liam never changed his mind, and really, this wasn’t the ideal place for what they both wanted. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

Liam arched his eyebrows. “For what?” He sounded genuinely curious, not amused.

“For feeding me.”

Liam brushed the backs of his fingers over Jay’s chest, grazing one swollen, throbbing nipple. “I hope you’re still hungry.” He paused, then added, “I’m starving.”

Yeah, he knew Liam would get that he wasn’t talking about the food.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam’s hands were clenched on the steering wheel at the prescribed ten and two o’clock positions, but it wasn’t where they wanted to be. They wanted to be on Jay, who sat silently beside him in the passenger’s seat. He wanted to pinch Jay’s hot, swollen nipples, bite on them until Jay screamed. But he couldn’t because he was driving, so instead he clutched the wheel tighter and breathed slowly through his nose, in and out, and kept his eyes fixed on the road.

Christ, he was hard. There was no way he’d be able to put off coming if he wanted to fuck Jay when they got home. He’d have to come first if he was to have any stamina at all. That wouldn’t be a problem; maybe he’d have Jay suck him. Just thinking about it made his dick harder inside his trousers. Jay had been lovely in the restaurant, all wide eyes and mute horror when he hadn’t been allowed to eat immediately.

Chancing a glance at him now, Liam was reminded that his shirt was still unbuttoned. It would be so easy to reach out and slide a hand along bare skin…but no. Not until they were properly home.

It was a simple promise to make to himself, but one Liam found rather more difficult to keep once they’d pulled into the garage. The garage door was closed—no one could see them—so he turned to Jay and unclipped Jay’s seat belt, ran a hand roughly across Jay’s slender chest and stomach, making no attempt to avoiding his painful nipples, until Jay was trembling and gasping.

Then Liam let go of him and pushed open the driver’s-side door. “Take off your clothes, and leave them here on the seat,” he ordered gruffly. “You won’t need them again this evening.”

Without a word of protest, Jay shed his clothes, shivering in the cold air of the garage. Watching him, Liam felt a dark satisfaction in Jay’s obedience. Yes. This was what he wanted.

Save your strength for dealing with what I’m going to put you through. Don’t waste it arguing with me, questioning me.

It had taken Jay too long to learn that piece of common sense, and Liam was sure he’d need reminders administered from time to time, but right now it seemed to have sunk in.

Jay only had to please him. And Liam, well, he had to make sure none of this went too far, and loving Jay as he did, intensely aware of every shift in mood or reaction, that wouldn’t be too difficult.

Then Jay went to his knees on the floor, bent over, and licked Liam’s shoe, an imploring whimper reaching Liam’s ears, a whispered, “Sir.”

Hunger, passion, the need to take Jay as forcefully as possible, secure in the knowledge that Jay would urge him on with more of those yearning, desperate sounds, the twist and arch of his strong, supple body, struck out at Liam. He could do it here. Fuck Jay over the hood of the car, the warm metal an unforgiving bed. Tell Jay to suck him off, his hands cruelly tight in Jay’s hair. He’d make it last so that when Jay stood, his knees would be scuffed red from the rough floor.

He could do it—but he was damned if he’d lose control of himself that way.

“Are you wondering what I’m going to do to you?”

Jay was still bent over, his hair veiling his face. Liam appreciated the submissiveness of the pose, but he wanted to see Jay’s expression. “Yes, Sir.”

“Kneel up. Look at me. That’s it.” God, Jay’s eyes were huge, and he was trembling, fine tremors, barely visible. From the cold? Or excitement? Both, probably. Liam didn’t bother pretending to himself that he didn’t get a kick out of seeing Jay like this. He did. Speaking slowly, watching Jay react, he said, “I want you. Want to find your limits, really push you. I tell you that you’re mine, and you say it back to me, but those are just words. Tonight I’m going to show you what it means to be mine. We’re going into the house now, you on your knees, crawling, me watching you, my dick hard because I know what’s coming, and I know exactly when you’ll scream for me for the first time. But before we do, I want to hear your safe words. I want you to know you can use them and be heard.”

And I need reminding too.

Jay blinked up at him, his glossy hair half in his face, giving him the fae look Liam found so appealing. He was beautiful. “
Mordor
,” he whispered. “For taking a break. And
Sauron
to stop.”

Of course. “Again,” Liam said sternly. “Louder.”

“Yes, Sir.
Mordor. Sauron
.” The spell Jay had been under had seemingly broken, but he was still looking up at Liam with the same expression of devotion.

“Good. Now follow me.” Liam went into the house, focused on the sound of Jay scurrying along after him on hands and knees. It wouldn’t be comfortable, he knew; that was the point. He wanted to push Jay, to take Jay to the very edge emotionally and physically. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he added.

He shut the door, locked it, and removed his shoes and jacket, deliberately not looking at Jay. He didn’t say anything to him, either, just continued through the house and upstairs to the bedroom with Jay at his heels.

“On the bed.” Jay had scrambled up, and Liam made an impatient gesture. “Lie down. On your stomach.”

When Jay obeyed, Liam undressed, then went to get the brass-handled whip he’d been thinking about earlier while they were still at the restaurant. There was something vintage about it—he liked the way the brass started out cold against his palm, then quickly warmed to the temperature of his body.

“We’re starting now,” Liam said and flicked the whip so that it landed across Jay’s bare arse.

Jay twitched and tensed but didn’t otherwise move or make a sound. Liam would’ve been surprised to hear one. This whip was an appetizer, no more than that, too light to inflict the severe pain Jay was anticipating.

Of course, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt at all.

Losing himself in the act without letting his awareness of Jay slip away, Liam used the whip on him from shoulders to calves, over and over, until the sensitized skin had some color in it. By the time he was on his fourth journey from head to toe, Jay had relaxed, enjoying the whipping, close to purring from the attention he was getting.