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“You leave her out of it.”

“Your mother I will gladly leave out of any discussion involving sex. However,

with respect to this girl…have you made out? How did you get it up? Who would you fantasize about to make her think it was all about her?”

“You arrogant son of a—

“That’s what I thought.”

Marcus caressed Thomas’ balls as Thomas strained, moved backward to try to rub

his ass against Marcus’ erection. Marcus inserted his thigh between Thomas’ knees and sat him down hard on it, latching his arm around his waist, the other around his chest again.

“You’re not getting it now. You’re going to walk around wanting it all day, your dick hard as a rock. Until tonight, when I get you off however I choose.”

A Master’s right, to deny, to punish, to reward. Thomas shuddered in his arms,

struggling between desire and frustrated pride. “Please…” Thomas muttered it, but Marcus was far from a merciful mood.

“Hush. Be still. Just be still. I’m still trying to decide if I want to fuck you or drown you.”

“Could you fuck me first?”

Marcus chuckled. “Christ, you’re priceless, pet. Just priceless.” His voice got throaty, and he pressed closer.

Thomas took a deep breath. He let himself float, held in Marcus’ arms, feeling the long fingers idly caressing his body as they moved together with the flow of the surf.

The sky was so blue it almost hurt the eyes, so Thomas closed his, laying his head back on Marcus’ shoulder again, turning his face so he could smell the saltwater on his chin, graze his lips on the beating pulse.
Christ, you’re so beautiful. What are you doing with me?

It wasn’t until Marcus stilled Thomas realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

“You know,” Marcus said casually after a moment. “You used to do that. Wander

around your studio, talking half to yourself, half to me or to some imaginary

something. You’d look amazed when I spoke to you, because you thought half of the words you’d said had been in your head.” He tightened his arm around Thomas.

“Artists are a lot like pilots, sailors, those who depend on powers they don’t

entirely understand for their intuition, their gifts. Their ability to get from Point A to Point B. You’re a superstitious bunch. You think if your gift came to fruition when you were at a certain place in your psyche, you can’t ever change, or you’ll lose it.”

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Thomas loved it and hated it when Marcus talked like this. His oracle voice,

Thomas had always called it teasingly. Hearing the message might be difficult, but the delivery was like feeling the hand of God strike the earth. It soothed, the solid tone of the words, the way Marcus’ arms were wrapped around him now.

“Thomas.” Marcus whispered, his breath teasing him. “I promise if you grow up,

become a man sure of his own worth, it won’t destroy your gift. If anything, it will expand to levels you never thought possible.”

Thomas hooked his hands on Marcus’ arm. His grip curled in, his thumb sliding

back and forth. A caress, but he knew Marcus also would recognize it for what it was, a nervous gesture.

“Do you trust me, Thomas?”

“I—”

“No, don’t answer that. I know you don’t. We’re going to work on that. In the

meantime, let this rattle around your mind.” Marcus ran his palm down Thomas’ thigh, caressing his sac, his thumb passing over his cock before he changed direction to explore Thomas’ stomach, following the dent of his navel, brushing his knuckles over the stomach muscles.

“What I have is surface. Grooming, good genetics, whatever. Whether you’ve rolled out of bed an hour ago without having had a shower for three days, or you’re wearing a designer suit, there is a deep, perfect beauty to you that takes my breath away. You miss it because you’re looking at some twisted image you’ve created in your head, full of faults and shortcomings.”

“Marcus—”

“Ssshh… See yourself the way I see you. Feel the way my hands touch you, think

about the way I look at you. I see all of you, Thomas. You think I don’t, but I do. Hide it, don’t hide it, I know all of it, feel all of it. You’re mine. Just let go. Let go and see it. I always have.”

There was a quiet between them then. A floating of the minds, like their bodies in the water. Thomas tried not to be overwhelmed by the emotions the words evoked, but Marcus wasn’t done torturing him yet.

“I’m going to ask you the question I asked you earlier. How is Rory?”

Thomas tensed. He felt Marcus’ hold compensating, knew he wouldn’t get away

without a fight. Damn if the unshakable restraint on his arms and chest just aroused him more, even as his heart twisted at the question. The rock of the water and Marcus’

mesmerizing words wrenched the honest words out of him.

“Broken inside, worse than the outside. And I’m to blame for it.”

“Maybe you are.” Marcus said after a silence. “If you’d been there, it might not have happened. If your mother had called him in to lunch an hour earlier, it might not have happened. If it had rained that day, it wouldn’t have happened.

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“So everyone’s to blame, even God, for Rory turning over a tractor he didn’t have a lot of experience handling. So how’s all that guilt going to help him get on with his life, make something of it? Far as I can tell he’s got his upper body. Does his cock still work?”

“Jesus, Marcus.” Thomas jabbed him with his elbow. “Yeah. Why?”

“I was figuring on hitting on him if his brother turned into too much of a pain in the ass.”

Thomas pushed off the bottom and shoved backward, twisting free and going after Marcus, doing his best to shove him under. Marcus, laughing, backpedaled, then they were both doused by the surf line. Thomas managed to duck back under and got lucky.

He caught the edge of Marcus’ suit, the elastic at his leg, bringing his other hand into play to close it on his cock, which was still attractively turgid.

As they surfaced, he had a firm grip on Marcus. His nemesis moved into him,

bringing them chest to chest. Thomas squeezed, stroked, enjoying the feel of the water mixed with the heat. Marcus kept his hands floating out to his sides, his green eyes fixed on Thomas’ face.

Without encouragement, Thomas touched his face, threaded his fingers in the slick wet hair, his thumb following the bridge of Marcus’ perfect nose as he rested a forearm on Marcus’ shoulder. They were back in deep again, the water at mid-chest where a strong current could take them out. They were both good swimmers, so Thomas wasn’t worried about that. He was more concerned about the depth of the feeling in himself, wondering if Marcus was barely treading water there as well.

“I don’t want to let go.”

“I didn’t tell you to.”

Thomas slid his grip up the velvet shaft and back down, his thumb playing with the throbbing vein on the underside. Marcus’ eyes lost focus, lips parting, his chest expanding. He shifted, planting his feet, and Thomas moved with him.

“Come rub yourself against me, pet. I want to feel your cock.”

Not daring to look toward the beach, Thomas took the extra step. Marcus’ arm went around his neck and back. Thomas kept his hand pumping on Marcus’ organ, but he put his leg up next to Marcus’, foot aligned on the inside of his, hip bones brushing as he rubbed his cock alongside the grip of his hand, so the aching curve of his balls could brush Marcus’.

As he did, Marcus guided Thomas’ face to him, took his lips in a mind-numbing,

wet saline kiss. He growled into Thomas’ mouth as Thomas squeezed harder in

reaction, his own cock hardening, pushing more insistently against Marcus, rubbing, seeking friction. Marcus’ thumb flicked his nipple. Thomas gasped into his mouth and Marcus’ strong hands were on the small of his back, sliding into his waistband, taking a firm hold of his ass as Thomas tried to keep his rhythm consistent.

Marcus was a strong son of a bitch, and his grip now proved it as he rocked Thomas against him, his tongue tangling with his. Thomas was sure it was obvious what they 72

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must be doing from the beach, but God, who cared? It was safe here. Marcus had

brought him somewhere safe, so he could drink his fill of him.

“Oh—” He choked on the reaction as Marcus’ fingers eased into him, working him

now as cleverly as Thomas was doing that long, fine cock which was hot and hard in his hand. He fondled Marcus’ balls, felt them draw up. He was close. And he was going to explode.

Despite Marcus’ threat to refuse him release, they came almost together. So often when they’d been together they’d had the timing down perfectly. Marcus had taught him the searing Tantric pleasure of holding out, so when they both finally came it was that much more intense. Even now, goaded by the urgency of absence, both past and anticipated, they still managed to pull it off.

The liquid heat of Marcus’ seed shot past his wrist, against his belly. Thomas fought back his own release for a second to watch his lover’s face, the tense jaw, the slight bow to the head as he was trapped by the orgasm. Unguarded, unpracticed, just raw animal reaction straining Marcus’ features.

Marcus clung to Thomas’ nape, fingers burrowing. Thomas felt the trembling of his muscular thighs as Marcus thrust against his hold savagely, letting Thomas take him all the way over and beyond. Thomas groaned out his own climax then, his hand losing its finesse, jerking hard on Marcus as he catapulted with him into the same realm, those fingers in his ass knowing too well how to take him higher than he expected to go.

It made him forget for a time the phone call and who was on the other end of the line. It also almost erased his apprehension about what Marcus planned for them tonight.

Almost.

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When they came out of the water at last, it was an effort not to stagger. Thomas’

knees were quivering, whereas Marcus looked as if he could run a marathon. In the interest of trying to appear as if he wasn’t shaken to the core, Thomas mentioned Ben’s offer as he slogged out of the surf.

“Sounds like a plan.” Marcus picked up a towel when they reached their spot,

pressed it against Thomas’ back. “Stand still.”

There was a different tone when it was a Master’s order, a tone that snapped at Thomas’ attention like the end of a whip, tightening up everything inside. Despite being drained literally moments before, his cock stirred weakly. Marcus put his hand on his shoulder, his fingers casually resting on the base of Thomas’ throat.

Thomas swallowed against his touch as the towel rubbed between his shoulder

blades, down over his ass, Marcus squeezing firmly, briskly, coming around the front to do the same to Thomas’ chest and belly. Then his hair, letting the terry cloth

momentarily blind him before Marcus pulled it away, dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

“You’ll do, pet. Lie down on the towel and take a short nap. I’ll massage those kinks out of your shoulders.”

Thomas didn’t need a second invitation. Marcus’ touch was often demanding. But

when all that strength was channeled into being gentle and firm, stroking over Thomas’

shoulders, digging into the muscles, down across the wide plane of his back, sweeping circles, kneading, then going to the dip of his lower back, eliciting a grunt…

“Like that, do you?”

“You always gave one hell of a massage.”

“Mmmm. You’ve always had one hell of a body. You’ve had an injury here. Like

you’ve tied the muscle into a knot.”

“Yeah. Fell off a ladder. Damn step moved.”

Marcus didn’t laugh. Just kept kneading that area. Thomas wasn’t going to tell

Marcus he’d been working on something at two in the morning because he couldn’t bear to lie on a mattress and imagine Marcus right next to him, hearing his even breath.

They’d only lived together officially for a handful of months, and he’d felt like a grieving widower.

A grieving widower who couldn’t share his grief with anyone, not even the person whom he had to treat as if he were dead, no longer part of his life. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to go there. He needed to turn off a little while, wanted to just focus on Marcus’ hands on him.

Instead, he sat up, latched onto Marcus’ wrist. “How many?” he asked, his jaw set.

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Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “I know you’re not asking what I think you’re asking.”

“I have the right to know.” Not because Thomas had a claim on him, but because of the way he felt about him. Not that he could or would say that.

Marcus studied him, his expression moving between anger and something else.

“Two. I’ve gone to the clubs, but there’ve only been two men I’ve fucked in the time you’ve been gone. One of them wasn’t exactly…mine. He’s a friend and belongs to a Mistress, who is another friend of mine. It was a one-shot deal, unusual circumstances, because he’s straight. We shared him. The man I was talking with on the phone. They’re married.”

Thomas nodded, though he felt like he’d swallowed one of the spiny balls from a sweet gum tree. Marcus had gone to the clubs. Often? Occasionally? A hell of a lot could go on in fetish clubs. He could have been blown every other night.

“It’s eating you, isn’t it?” Those green eyes saw far too much. “You’re thinking of all the things you saw when I took you to those types of places, how turned on you got.

When I took you home and fucked you, you couldn’t get enough.”

“Stop it.” Thomas shook his head, reached over to the cooler to withdraw a beer, but Marcus laid a hand on his thigh, arresting him in mid motion. Thomas stared at the long fingers lying on the tense line of muscle, close to his groin.

“You were irresistible,” Marcus said in a low voice. “Too shy to ask me to do any of it to you. But it mesmerized you to see others treated that way. Restrained, on public display before total strangers. A Master taking up a whip and leaving red marks on fine skin.” He ran his knuckles down the center of Thomas’ chest and Thomas swallowed, forced himself to remain still, though he wanted to scramble away from the truth of it.