The Hook-Up (3 page)

“It isn
’
t a matter of money.” I rolled my fingertip around
the rim of my empty wineglass. “It
’
s my pride, I suppose. I would have to admit that
things could run without me.”

“Spoken like a true Dom,” he said with a
short chuckle. Then, wetting his bottom lip, he added, “I suspect
now why Chloe was so intent on you trying submission again. Perhaps
she thinks it will be good for you, not just in understanding her,
but in understanding your current conflict.”

I paused with a hesitant smile. There
couldn
’
t be any
miscommunication between us, not about this. “I
’
m not certain it works that way. Perhaps
Chloe believes that it does… but I think that what I do in the
bedroom is largely unrelated to what I do outside of it.”

“I believe that
’
s true for some people. But I suspect it
isn
’
t true for you.” The
sparkle in his dark eyes was enough to make my knees weak. In a
moment, though, it was gone, replaced by nonchalance I hoped was an
affectation, at least in part. “It doesn
’
t matter. I enjoy your company. If this
business has put a damper on the mood tonight, I won
’
t feel I
’
ve made the trip for nothing.”

“On the contrary, I don
’
t think it would be possible to spoil the
mood.” I pushed my chair back. “Why don
’
t we move into my den. We can relax and discuss my
terms of surrender.”

“Surrender?” His brow creased as he tried to
decide if I were teasing him. “Submission?”

“Tonight, I think they might be one and the
same.”

Aside from the bedroom, my favorite room of
the house is my den. Sleek, modern cabinetry, all in dark wood,
held a respectable collection of media. A terrifically long, orange
couch with structured square cushions wrapped into an L at the end
of the room. The single window was covered with a blackout shade,
and tray lighting around the ceiling gave the perfect diffuse glow,
so as to not interfere with the television
’
s projection, when it was on.

If Sophie could have inappropriate feelings
for her bathtub, I most certainly could excuse my flagrant lust for
my den.

Emir and I were on the couch, lounging, both
of us slightly giddy at our discussion. We
’
d covered safe words, our expectations and
preferences, and Emir had made impressive mental notes.

“So, you do not wish to be bound,” he ticked
off on his fingers. “You do not wish for anything too painful… may
I spank you?”

I paused. “I wouldn
’
t mind a light one, I don
’
t think. But I wouldn
’
t like to be spanked. Not
repeatedly and as the sole purpose of the activity.”

He nodded, as though he understood perfectly.
“About intercourse. I enjoy it, but it is not necessary, so do not
feel pushed to do anything you don
’
t enjoy. I do love receptive anal sex, but
I
’
m not sure I can
accommodate your…
size.
”

“Ah.” This wasn
’
t the first time I
’
d run into this particular dilemma. To be fair, I
wasn
’
t certain I would
give it a go with a man as endowed as I was, either. “And are you
averse to topping?”

His eyes lifted in surprise. “No, not averse
at all.”

“You look as though I
’
ve shocked you.” It shouldn
’
t have been possible, I
didn
’
t think, to
surprise a wealthly man who frequented sex clubs. Especially the
club to which we both belonged.

Then again, I
’
d been surprised more than once lately.

I tried to cover my slight embarrassment. “I
only thought, because you would be Domming me… I
’
m not sure how submissive it would be for
me to fuck you in the ass.”

We both laughed at that, until Emir said,
“Yes, well. You might be surprised at how submissive a top can be.
Have you ever considered letting
Chloe
fuck you?”

“No.” My god, I could
feel
myself blushing. “I
’
m not sure how one works that into
a conversation, to be perfectly frank.”

“Maybe if we are all together another time, I
could teach her?” Emir grinned broadly, the way I was certain
Sophie would when I broached the subject with her.

“I sense I am already defeated before I
protest.” I chuckled and leaned back, propping my arm on the top of
the couch.

“I only ask that you keep your expectations
lowered. I know I may seem…”

“
Confident? Outspoken?
” Emir sniffed a laugh.
“Slightly arrogant?”

“I was going to say dashing and handsome, but
yours work very well,” I admitted. “Joking aside, I worry that what
happened to me the last time I put myself in a submissive role will
happen again. That I
’
ll be
…
too hung up on protocol, afraid to do the wrong thing, and
I
’
ll put myself in a bad
situation. But I would like to sub for you tonight, Emir.
I
’
ve been in intimate
circumstances with you before, and if I were ever going to do it
with anyone, you
’
d be on
the top of my list.”

“That
’
s very sweet.” He set his wine glass on the end
table. “I value your trust. I won
’
t do anything to harm it.”

When he leaned toward me, I met him half-way,
tilting my face to adjust as his mouth met mine. It had been a long
time since I
’
d kissed a
man, and a thrill shot to my groin at the unexpected brush of sharp
stubble around his soft lips.

He pulled back a little. “Should we go
somewhere…”

“Let
’
s go upstairs,” my voice was a desperate rasp,
startling me. I
’
d had no
idea I wanted Emir so fervently, until the moment it seemed the
possible would become reality.

Every step we took to the bedroom sent
urgent, pounding desire through me, but I kept myself restrained.
Though there would be nothing I
’
d like more than to grab him and force him up
against the wall, the way I would Sophie, Emir wasn
’
t submissive to me.

On the last flight of stairs, he had already
pulled his t-shirt over his head. To say the man was in shape would
have been akin to saying the Louvre had a few paintings in it. I
had the sudden, unpleasant urge to make comparisons that were
terribly unfair to myself. I had fifteen years and a harrowing
experience with cancer in my column. Obviously, I couldn
’
t expect to have the physique of a
male model, but it was a bit daunting to imagine getting naked with
someone who did.

We stopped beside the bedroom door, and he
reached for the handle with me, his big hand covering my own.
“Nothing that you don
’
t
want to do tonight. And I mean that.”

An electric chill, the full force of my lust
toward him, snapped through me at that contact. Now that it was
awakened, that wicked, purely sexual part of my mind would not be
denied, would not make any apologies for seeking pleasure and
reveling in it.

Inside, I dimmed the lights and motioned
toward the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I
’
ll be back in a moment.”

I went through the dressing room, into the
bathroom, where my first stop was the medicine chest. The last
thing I
’
d want would be
to get out there and be unable to… maintain. It had happened a few
times with Sophie, post-transplant, and I
’
d been so utterly embarrassed, dire
countermeasures had been needed. Though I didn
’
t appreciate the reminder of my rapidly
advancing age, I took out the bottle of little blue pills and
swallowed one with a handful of water from the tap. I hoped the
food and wine wouldn
’
t
put as large a dent in the medicine
’
s effectiveness as the pamphlet had indicated.

I slipped off my shoes and socks and put them
away, and paused in front of the toy cupboard. Though some of the
contents had migrated to New York with us, some necessities
remained
. I took
a
variety of condoms, a bottle of lube, gloves, and some dental dams;
it didn
’
t seem
presumptuous to be prepared for anything.

Emir sat on the edge of the bed, his shoes
and socks slipped off, leaving him in his jeans and nothing else.
His olive skin was burnished by the low, warm light, and he grinned
at me as I placed our supplies on the bedside table. His hand
caught my wrist, and I let him pull me down. He tilted his face up,
and I took that for the invitation it was.

Our lips met, and I leaned him back,
following him to the bed. I sank my fingers into his soft, dark
hair and tugged gently, pulling his head back to bare his throat as
my mouth wandered from his, across the stubble on his face. He
moaned, and his fingers dug into my back through my shirt.

“I thought you were the submissive tonight,”
he reminded me with a laugh I felt beneath my palm.

Emir
’
s body was a symphony of contradiction; satiny skin
stretched over rock-hard muscle, a hairless chest in defiance of
the thick
dark hair
on
his arms. His cologne was faint and spicy, and I nuzzled my face
into his neck to breathe deep.

Next to touch, scent was my favorite erotic
sense. Some mornings, just smelling the lingering hint of Sophie’s
shampoo in the shower was enough to make me desperately horny. I
didn
’
t know what
aftershave Emir wore, but it would be seared into my scent memory
in a similar manner.

Emir
’
s hand slipped into my collar, and he tugged on the
buttons of my shirt. “Take this off,” he growled against my ear,
and the command was shockingly erotic.

I sat up and unbuttoned just the top few
buttons and pulled the shirt and my undershirt over my head. I
didn
’
t have a spare
moment to worry about my physique or compare it to his before he
drew me back down. Emir was a man who knew what he wanted.

He wasn
’
t the only one. I kissed down his neck, across the
smooth expanse of his broad chest, and lightly grazed one tight
brown nipple with the edges of my teeth. His breath hitched, and
his body rose against mine as he dove his fingers into my hair.

“Stand up.”

I did, waiting awkwardly beside the bed. And
oh, how he made me wait, watching me wordlessly, letting the
tension mount in tiny increments. He inhaled audibly, long and
slow, making a decision. “I want you naked. Take off the rest of
your clothes.”

Emir could command me to do whatever he
wished, so long as it didn
’
t break our agreed upon terms, and I would obey
him. Because of the control I’d already exerted in our
negotiations, there was nothing left for me to decide. It was
exhilarating.

I did as he
’
d asked and kicked my pants and boxers aside.
Standing naked in front of him, I couldn
’
t help but mentally tabulate every one of
my physical faults in comparison to his model-quality
perfection.

He said my name, or I thought he had. I
asked, “What?” in reply, and he laughed softly.

“No,
Leif.
Kneel. On your knees. On
the floor, beside the bed. I should have been more clear.”

“
Oh.
Um.
” I did as he asked, but added, “What
’
s the appropriate response in this
situation?”

“From a well-trained sub, I would expect the
only response would be to obey my command.” His lips quirked,
hinting at his amusement. “But you could say ‘Yes, Sir,
’
as your Chloe does.”

That felt intimately wrong. “No, I couldn’t
do that. Can we find another word?”

He leaned down, his lips a millimeter from
mine, his breath teasing me until it felt as though he would steal
my own. “You could call me… Monsieur. It is fitting, is it not?
Since we met in Paris?”

“
Oui, M
onsieur
.” Oh, he was very, very good. It
was a struggle to tell the difference between my nerves and my
anticipation now. He touched my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Relax.” His strong hand glided down my arm,
then back to my neck.

How many times had I ordered Sophie to do the
very same thing? I
’
d
thought that my experiences as a Dom would make submission easy. I
knelt there, the carpet biting into my shins, my skin chilled, even
the rise of my chest with my deliberately slow breaths seeming as
though I were moving too much. I hadn
’
t a clue how difficult truly submitting would
be.

Sophie had been correct; this entire
experience terrified me.

Emir said nothing, asked nothing of me, for
what seemed an eternity. I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead,
occasionally closing my eyes to try and retain my focus on what I
was meant to be doing. When he gave me another command, gently
voiced though it was, I flinched.

“Clasp your arms at the small of your
back.”

I wasn
’
t sure I knew what my arms were, anymore.
I
’
d been to Bikram yoga
classes that were less physically and mentally challenging than
simply kneeling there, waiting for instruction.

Somehow, I managed to get my hands behind me,
my clammy palms gripping my wrists. With my shoulders back and my
chest raised, I felt even more vulnerable than before.