Velvet Memories (9 page)

It didn’t take long for a handsome older gentleman in a half mask to approach him. The Dom never said a word, merely ran his hands along Michael’s torso. He made a big show of examining every implement on the table before selecting a bottle of oil and filling his palm. Laying his hands flat along Michael’s pierced nipples, he rubbed the concoction on his flesh. Michael shivered. Peppermint oil, cool to the touch, sent gentle tingles over his skin and made his hips gyrate as the masked man flicked his nipples, teasing him to distraction. The pleasure bordered on torture because he knew this silver fox would never bring him to fulfillment. No this experience was all about driving Michael to the brink of insanity, but it was an insanity he fucking craved.

The man leaned forward to flick his tongue across Michael’s nipple, and he writhed in his restraints. It felt good, so good, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t exactly what he needed to take him to the place where everything else floated away.

A sharp snap of teeth brought Michael abruptly back to the present and the Dom who was watching him with cool eyes as his tongue and teeth drew Michael’s nipples to red, swollen life. Satisfied he had the submissive’s attention once again, the Dom gave each nipple a long, deep suck, tugged at each barbell with his teeth, and watched Michael squirm. When he had Michael helpless against his mouth, the man abruptly turned and left Michael alone.

That was just the beginning. Michael was a popular submissive. He wasn’t a pain-whore like Trey, or a resistant brat like Mikki, the pretty blonde lashed to the spanking bench to his right. No, Michael’s allure was that he was strong, needed an even stronger Master, but he
wanted
to submit. Mastering Michael was a challenge, but not a fight.

His sexual orientation was common knowledge at the club, and most of the Dominants to approach him were male, but the occasional female took a pass at him, too. He was disappointed to see his least favorite Domina, Mistress Anne, in attendance tonight. There was something not okay in Mistress Anne’s head, something that made her want to break her submissives so they could never be put back together again.

He was coasting on the edge of pleasure and adrenaline when she approached him, as he’d known she would. Her usual red leather cat suit clung to every inch of her body, the attached half mask leaving just the sharp angle of her jaw and thin line of her scarlet lips visible. Her long blonde ponytail swished with her movements.

In her hand she carried her own personal whip, which she dragged along his stomach. “You’re in fine form this evening, pet.” Even her voice gave him the wrong kind of shivers.

“Thank you, Mistress.” He had yet to master the combination of respect and discouragement to send her away without pissing her off, but he kept trying.

“I wish you would reconsider becoming my slave.” She held his cheek with her cold leather-clad hand. Her lips curved when Michael shuddered at the touch. It was more than a little unnerving that he felt sure she didn’t care if the shiver was arousal or fear.

“Thank you for your kind offer, Mistress, but I would not be able to satisfy you.” It was the same answer he always gave. “You know I’m gay.”

Her red lips thinned and her free hand wrapped painfully around his balls as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Oh, I could fuck you as well as any man.” Michael shuddered again, knowing she spoke nothing less than the truth.

“I have no doubt, Mistress,” he forced out between clenched teeth.

Point made, pain given, and with one more squeeze of her hand, Anne stepped back from the cross.

“You know where to find me when you change your mind, Michael.”

He gave a tight nod, trying to hide his relief at making it through the encounter so unscathed.

Anne gave him one last, menacing smile and gave the Cross a spin, walking away while he whirled head over feet.

He stopped with a jolt, right side up and eye to eye with Gregori.

“You are well?” The heavy platinum chain around the man’s throat and his shirtless state announced the big Russian was there as his Mistress’s property tonight, but the dangerous glint in his eye was a potent reminder that he might be a sub, but he was also about as alpha as they came, and he took his job as Velvet Ice’s Head of Security seriously.

“I’m fine,” Michael rushed to assure him, wanting to avoid any trouble. He’d already lost his submissive high, and was a little desperate to get it back. “Just a little dizzy.”

The big submissive gave a slow nod, but he didn’t look convinced. Michael was more than a little relieved when Mistress Megan approached, managing to move smoothly and gracefully on five-inch stilettos that brought the top of her head level with Michael’s chin.

She cast a knowing eye over Michael’s body and gave a nod of satisfaction. “Still in one piece, sweet thing?” Her drawl was like a balm over his nerves and Michael felt his shoulders relax just a tiny bit.

“It’s all good, Mistress.”

Mistress Megan nodded again, but looked thoughtful. “She seems to have undone all the good stuff you were feeling, though,” she noted shrewdly.

Michael’s smile was more natural now, if a little wry. “Well, I’ve got another hour on display. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get the chance to service someone’s big bruiser of a slave.”

Gregori quirked a brow as Megan’s laugh rang out over the presentation area. “I am sorely tempted to give you exactly that, sweetness,” she replied, blue eyes twinkling. “But I’ve promised my Sugar something special tonight.”

Michael heaved a dramatic sigh. “Rejected!” He grinned to show he was joking. “I can only hope for another time.”

Megan laughed again and Gregori rolled his eyes
—
though he made sure his Mistress didn’t see it. Michael was still smiling as the Southern belle led her submissive toward the private rooms.

*

Rob sat at the bar for the better part of an hour fuming as he watched stranger after stranger touch what was his. And Michael did belong to him, whether the man wanted to admit it or not. He’d almost left his seat when the bitch dressed in red approached him. The sight of her scarlet-tipped fingers twisting Michael’s tender balls had incensed Rob to the point he’d actually stood when the big Russian headed in Michael’s direction, his voluptuous Mistress hot on his heels.

He didn’t even try to contain the snarl when the red-leather bitch sent Michael spinning, but he did force himself to stay seated as Gregori and Mistress Megan came to his submissive’s rescue. There was nothing for him to do; he knew it. Oh, he could approach Michael, play with him while he was bound and obligated to allow it, but Rob knew if he gave in to the urge, he might as well kiss any chance at something more with the man good-bye. Michael had to come to him willingly. Or at least mostly willingly.

So he sat drinking cola after fucking cola while men and woman alike fondled, licked, touched and did a myriad of other things that left Michael’s dick hard, his eyes glazed, and his face utterly serene.

He wanted to be the one to take Michael to that place of pure feeling. He wanted to see his fine face flushed and twisted with effort, with pain, with need. He wanted to make Michael come all over his belly, and then he wanted to lick it up. Then he wanted to see the soft, peaceful expression on Michael’s face and know
he
was the one who put it there.

He want to feel the other man’s full lips wrapped around his dick, stretched wide, sucking it down until Rob shot everything he had deep into his submissive’s throat. But most of all he wanted to top Michael and ride him hard until he begged for more, or for mercy, whichever came first. Instead he was locked on his bar stool watching and waiting, his eyes never leaving the leather ring wrapped around the other man’s cock, keeping his dick hard and red and ready to explode.

He never came, though. After what felt like hours, but Rob knew for a fact was only ninety minutes, Michael was released from the cross and helped into a back room by a tall, statuesque woman. Half an hour later he was once again on the floor, headed for the bar. The bartender already had a tall glass of juice waiting when Michael arrived, and those blue eyes smiled at her even as he took a long drink.

The smaller man was dressed in leather pants and a tight black t-shirt that played peek-a-boo with the barbells in his nipples, and Rob wanted nothing more than to catch one in his teeth and tug until Michael was a melting mess on the floor.

He wasted no time in cornering his submissive. “Did you enjoy your time on public display?” He didn’t bother keeping the tension from his voice. He didn’t care if Michael knew it bothered him. Hell, he wanted Michael to know.

“Enjoying public display’s my job.”

Rob gritted his teeth as Michael took another drink of his juice. He knew the man needed the fluids and the sugar after the intense hour and a half he’d just spent, but he couldn’t control his tongue for long.

”You’ll let everyone in here have a taste but me, is that it?” If there was a tiny bit of hurt in his voice, he was pretty sure the music covered it.

Michael waved his hand. “Listen, I don’t want to have this conversation every time I see you. We’re toxic together, and I’m not into that kind of abuse. Now, I’m working.
Goodbye
, Rob.”

He kept his fists curled tight to keep from grabbing Michael’s arm and hauling him up against him, kissing him like he’d wanted to for ten long years and showing him exactly what he was denying them both. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Time for plan what? C? D?

“Coward.”

He pitched his voice just loud enough for Michael to hear it, and knew he’d succeeded in getting the man’s attention when he froze and those gorgeously sculpted shoulders went even tighter.

Michael turned slowly to face him, a look of absolute disbelief on his face.

“
Excuse
me?” Michael wasn’t making any effort to moderate his tone; it was tight with anger. “
You’re
calling
me
a coward?” The submissive stalked toward him, sleek in black leather, his hair falling in thick strands from the short queue he’d pulled it back into.

Rob licked his lips. The man looked like nothing so much as a pissed-off jungle cat who was ready to take a bite. Rob was surprisingly eager to be bitten.

“You didn’t walk away from me ten years ago, Rob. You fucking ran, right to the first pair of boobs on legs you could find.” Those eyes weren’t expressionless now; they were nearly incandescent with rage. “You didn’t acknowledge me even once again, ever, not until you showed up here.” Michael was right in front of him now, so close Rob could feel the heat pouring off him, could see the trickle of sweat that skated down his neck, over his throat as it worked under the leather of his collar.

“You might be a Dom, Rob. You might even have come to terms with your sexuality, whatever the fuck it is.” One slender finger stabbed into Rob’s chest, and he swore with every poke his dick got harder. He risked a glance downward. It looked like Michael’s dick wasn’t indifferent, either. “But you don’t get to barge into my life,” Michael continued, “and call me a fucking coward just because I don’t choose to ride the rejection roller coaster again.”

“Is that what you’re scared of, Mikey?” He finally gave in to the urge to touch, wrapping his hand around that pointing finger before it punctured his fucking chest. “You’re scared I’ll break you open and walk,” Michael’s eyes flashed, and Rob gave a wry smile, “okay,
run
away again?”

Michael ground his teeth and tried to jerk his hand away, but Rob held tight.

“I won’t, you know. I’ve stopped running, and I want you to stop, too.” Michael’s growl was barely audible over the music. “If you’re not a coward, Michael, give this thing between us a chance. It’s been there forever, and it’s not going away anytime soon.”

“There is nothing between us but a little bit of ancient history.” Michael yanked at his hand again, to no avail.

“Prove it.” Rob suppressed his smile. He was winning, and he knew it. Michael wanted this as much as he did, and Rob had finally found the way to cut off his angles of escape.

“If there’s nothing between us but history, it should be no problem for you to do a scene with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Now Rob let the smile tease the corner of his mouth. Liar. “You’ll do it anyway, though. Just to prove I’m wrong.”

“Fuck.” Michael finally managed to pull his hand free, and dragged it through his hair, leaving the almost-black strands just a little wild and free of the band restraining them. “Fine. But not tonight.” Those blue eyes were a touch panicked and a touch tired. “I can’t handle an intense scene on a public display night.”

“All right.” It was easy to be flexible; he’d gotten Michael’s agreement and he knew the man wouldn’t try to back out later. Besides, the submissive really did look like he needed a little distance to put himself back together. Soon putting Michael back together would be his job, though; a job Rob was eager to take on.

“Wednesday?” Tonight was Saturday. The club was closed Sundays, Michael didn’t work Mondays, and Tuesdays were dance nights. Rob’s smile grew to Cheshire Cat proportions. Michael was scheduling them for a performance night. Maybe his little show with Trey had been more successful than he’d realized.