Mad & Marvelous

by Elizabeth Varlet

  Maybe, oh God, maybe Craig hadn’t kept his mouth shut.

  Maybe Roland had found out.

  Tam came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”

  Hop nodded.

  “You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to face him. Say the word and I’ll go in your place.” Z sounded righteous. Hop pictured him in Rafe’s office and winced at the embarrassing flare of jealousy.

  No matter how crazy it made him, Hop couldn’t stand for any of them to take his place.

  They’d never understand that this anxiousness sent a sting of pleasure around his balls.

  “It’s fine.” He pressed his hands to the countertop and forced a smile at their reflections. If he couldn’t get control of himself they’d never let him go and he wanted—needed—to obey.

  Somehow he made it through their next routine well enough to convince his friends he was fine. He took his time, because the anticipation was a drug he’d missed. He cleaned his face and reapplied street-worthy makeup. He dressed in the outfit he’d arrived in and packed up his costumes and heels.

  “Want us to wait for you?” Ansel asked.

  “No, thanks. I’ll text you if it’s anything important. Probably just a schedule change or something.”

  Ansel seemed dubious and didn’t point out how Mark was the one who handled unimportant details. The only reason the owner would need a face-to-face was for something big.

  “Don’t text, call.” Ansel’s eyes were serious. “Tonight.”

  Hop agreed.

  They hugged and said their goodbyes. The Boyz left through the back. Hop watched them go and counted to one hundred. It didn’t help calm his racing pulse, but if he waited any longer Rafe might think him defiant and come find him.

  The club music and lights created a new world of possibilities. Hop kept his purpose close to his chest, protected as if it were precious, all the way up the stairs.

  The VIP bouncer let him through without a word.

  Hop was expected.

  His knees trembled as he found the secret door and climbed to the catwalk, gripping the railing. He’d worn his heels, of course—he was never without a pair—and if he wasn’t careful the points would fall right through the gaps in the steel floor.

  The precariousness of his position, both physical and emotional, gave him a little tingle.

  And right on its tail, a familiar wave of humiliation.

  His entire life he’d fought his natural proclivities. They were strange and scary and taboo, to some. Inevitably, he gave in because fighting them took so much effort and it wore him down—killed the sparkle of life.

  But each time he let his unpracticed, unsupervised lust rule, it’d been a disaster. In so many ways it had been dangerous, even damaging.

  But he did it again.

  Because he was weak and selfish.

  Because no matter how the situations ended, for one single moment he’d fly high.

  And that one moment was worth coming back for—worth seeking out again and again.

  No one had understood, not his mother and certainly not Rafe. They’d all thought he’d been acting out to get attention from his father. And yes, that had been partially true. But there was this other secret edge to it all.

  The sharp bite of submission.

  It was why, with a tremble, he knocked on Rafe’s door now when he suspected nothing waited for him on the other side but professional distance.

  “Come in,” Rafe called.

  Hop entered and closed the door behind him, blocking out the noise of the club. It was just them, their breathing, and Hop’s own pulse echoing in his ears.

  “Take a seat,” Rafe said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a struggle, but Rafe did not watch Hop walk across his office. Instead, he trained his eyes on the papers on the desk even though he’d read the same word over and over again. Every cell in his body was focused on Hop’s presence. His stride clicked on the floor as he approached. Every step lit another spark under Rafe’s skin.

  Because...heels.

  Rafe’s fetish almost got the better of him. He wanted to see, damn it. He gathered all his patience and simply listened to the rustle of fabric as Hop lowered into the chair and crossed his legs.

  Rafe made him wait.

  He dragged it out, flipping pages, tapping his pen, and doing his best impression of someone who wasn’t utterly distracted. He was so glad for his years of practice. It gave him the ability to delay until Hop’s agitation became a third living thing in the room, hovering over them both like a greedy desperate monster.

  Only then did Rafe put his pen down, raise his eyes and feast on the sight before him. Hop had painted his eyes with shades of purple. His cheeks were rouged and his lashes were long enough to tickle his cheeks every time he blinked. And that mouth, fuck.

  Plump and shiny and deep, dark pink, that mouth called to Rafe, reminding him of their kiss. If there had been any lingering doubts about what needed to be done, they fled at the first glimpse of those lips.

  Under his scrutiny, Hop calmed. The reaction sent a cascade of answering relief through Rafe’s system.

  Rafe didn’t thank him for coming because they both knew that refusing hadn’t even been an option and pretending otherwise would be trite.

  “Prince called,” Rafe said, getting right to the point. Or, at least, the point he needed to get out of the way.

  Hop’s lips parted on a small exhale and his shoulders sank slightly. Disappointment, Rafe thought, and fought a smile.

  “Or, I should say, his assistant called,” Rafe continued. “They won’t be back in the city until end of February. So we’ve scheduled the pre-party dress rehearsal for then.”

  Those enticing lips formed an O.

  “I’ll need you to inform the others that they should come up with an appropriate routine without actually telling them why it’s needed.”

  That snapped Hop out of his daze. “Are you nuts? How am I supposed to do that?”

  Rafe shrugged. “They can’t know yet, not until—”

  “They’re not going to tell anyone. Besides, it’s not like they run in the same circles.”

  “I’m not willing to risk it. This is too important.”

  Hop threw up both hands. “What do you think he’ll do if he finds out before you’ve got a contract? It’s not like he’s God or something.”

  Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  Hop’s attitude changed immediately, all dissent squashed like a bug. Fuck, but it was intoxicating being handed that much power.

  Rafe took a beat to enjoy it and then continued, “It’s happened before. He has the ability to snap his fingers and take away everything I’ve earned. He doesn’t need a reason, not a logical one, at least. His pride won’t allow him to do anything but destroy me if he feels I’ve gone against him in any way.”

  Hop must know that about his father. He’d probably seen the ruthless manipulation with his own eyes.

  “Paying back your debt would mean he couldn’t control you any longer.”

  “And for him, control is everything.” Rafe added a little curl to his words and watched Hop squirm.

  “Okay.” Hop’s voice was gruff and tempting. “I’ll... I won’t tell them.”

  Rafe forced himself to look away from those clear blue eyes and all that damn irrational trust. His cock was rock hard in his trousers and his limbs already felt heavy and hot. He was quiet for a long time, pretending to read while he drew on his strength of will.

  “Um, is that all?” Hop asked.

  Was that all? Not by a long shot. He met Hop’s curious gaze. “Our business is done, but now you have a choice to make.”

  Hop’s fingers flexed on the armrest. “What choice?” His voice wavered. Part fear, part desi
re? Rafe would bet on it.

  Rafe steepled his fingers. “Either you walk out the door or you lock it.”

  * * *

  Hop’s heart wanted to make a break for it. Like, seriously, rip right out of his chest and fuck off for God only knew where. It pounded. No, it was bigger—it pummeled his insides so hard his ribs felt crushed. Of course, that could also be the annihilating weight of his own desire sucking the breath from his lungs as surely as it drained any rational thought from his brain.

  He shouldn’t want what was promised in Rafe’s hooded eyes. Shouldn’t crave it.

  Leave or lock the door.

  Such threatening words filled at once with devastating promise and absolute power.

  There was no way he’d make it to the door when remaining upright in the chair took every ounce of strength he had left.

  Except, he did.

  Trembling legs and all, he rose from the lush embrace of leather cushions and crossed the office. All the while, Rafe’s intense gaze was on him like a laser, burning everywhere it touched. It didn’t matter that Hop couldn’t see it because he could feel it. A caress made of distance and heat and expectation.

  Leave or lock the door. His choice.

  He wasn’t sure what he was going to do until he reached up and turned the lock. The click resonated in the quiet room. Final. Eviscerating. Breath rushed out of him without his permission and he clutched the door so he didn’t collapse to the floor.

  Rafe growled his approval and all was lost. Hop turned to find those piercing eyes capturing him as if he was a butterfly and Rafe was the net.

  “Come here,” Rafe said, his voice rough, almost pained.

  One step took all of Hop’s concentration. Heels and instability did not mix.

  “Crawl.” There was challenge and calculation behind the order. Rafe’s dark eyes grew even deeper, swirling with mystery and authority.

  Time stretched out between them and Hop had no idea how long he stood there fighting with himself. But there was no choice really, those eyes were too strong, too alluring.

  It was actually a relief to lower to his knees. Now at least he didn’t have to worry about falling. No, now his mind was consumed with arousal and confusion and arousal because of the confusion.

  But he crawled. And it was glorious.

  The closer he got, the harsher Rafe’s breath sounded, and it was everything to know his small act of acceptance had affected Rafe so deeply. Strangely, it made him feel powerful, like he was the one in control even though he was on his knees.

  When he reached Rafe’s feet he stayed kneeling and folded his hands on his lap, eyes cast to the floor. Rafe leaned forward and with fingers on his chin, forced Hop to lift his head.

  “All you have to say is no and it will stop, no judgments, no repercussions. This has nothing to do with the club or your work here. I will never hold it against you.” He sounded so earnest. “I know I have a lot to prove and you don’t fully trust me yet, not like you should for this. But trust that at the very least, okay?”

  The way Rafe held him prevented Hop from nodding and his throat was so dry it took a few swallows before he could say, “Okay.”

  Rafe’s grip softened and he cupped Hop’s jaw. Rafe’s thumb traced his cheekbone, and then caressed Hop’s bottom lip before slipping inside to tease Hop’s tongue. He smelled like hickory and smoke, delicious and untouchable.

  Then that thumb was gone, leaving Hop reeling. Rafe sat back in his chair, legs spread wide, erection clearly visible beneath his black slacks. He was the picture of a horny CEO on the outside but beneath it all was this tornado of strength and kindness and history. It made Hop dizzy.

  “Undo my tie,” Rafe said, palms on the armrests.

  Hop shuffled between Rafe’s knees and leaned over him to reach the silk knot. His fingers shook and it took everything in him not to close his eyes and sink into Rafe’s scent and heat and hardness. His erection twitched beneath Hop’s belly and Hop felt the answering clench in his ass. God, this was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced and they weren’t even naked.

  Yet.

  Rafe was patient as Hop struggled to pull the long ends through the tight loops. When he finally managed it, he held the soft fabric to his nose and brought Rafe’s sweet and spicy scent into his lungs. Then he sat back on his heels, holding the silk to his chest.

  “Now, we have some issues to work though.” Rafe’s eyes were hooded pools of approval as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt.

  “We...we do?” Hop’s heart squeezed.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you off the hook, did you?”

  Hop shook his head. He both dreaded and yearned for whatever Rafe was about to do, and the not knowing was part of the appeal. All of it combined into a dark twisted ball in his gut, but God it ached so good.

  So fucking good.

  Rafe held out his hand and, without needing to be told, Hop placed his on top. Rafe stood and helped Hop to his feet. Then with a gentle brush of his knuckle against Hop’s cheek he said, “Give it to me.”

  Hop handed over the tie. Rafe’s smile was grateful and soft and it lit up all the shadows in the room. Hop almost purred. But then Rafe covered his eyes with the fabric and blocked out the light.

  Hop whimpered at the loss, fucking whimpered. But at no point did he ever consider saying no because deep down, this was exactly what he wanted.

  For once, he could give in and not fear the price of his desire. Maybe it was their past that gave Hop the confidence that he was safe this time, maybe it was just Rafe.

  “Shh,” Rafe whispered then, so close his breath fanned Hop’s cheek. “I’ve got you.”

  And Hop believed him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rafe had to blindfold him. It was self-preservation because those blue eyes were killing him. Jesus. The way Hop had sniffed his tie as if he could be inconspicuous about it when he was quivering at Rafe’s feet. Then he looked up through sinfully long lashes, expecting Rafe wouldn’t notice the flush of his cheeks or the rate of his pulse? Like he wouldn’t notice how turned on he was from that smell?

  Yeah, right.

  Hop was the only thing he could see—a single point of colorful clarity in a blurry, vague world. It’d been either hide those eyes that were too easy to read by far, or lose his cool. So he’d saved himself and added another layer of seduction to their erotic dance. Now he could look and play his fill without giving himself away.

  His gaze lowered to Hop’s feet and the heels he wore. They were five-inch bright orange peep-toe platforms. Showstoppers.

  Rafe breathed in Hop’s sweaty musk. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, so he darted his tongue out for a taste of the soft skin behind Hop’s earlobe.

  Hop moaned and, fuck, was it the sweetest sound Rafe ever heard—tortured and pliant.

  God, yes. He pressed a palm hard into his cock and swallowed his own groan. Distance, he needed a little distance, so he stepped back and let Hop feel it too—let him wonder. Sometimes a sub’s own imagination was the best weapon in a Dom’s arsenal.

  Thing was, Rafe was also torturing himself and after all the buildup, his patience was critically low.

  “Show me your cock,” he ordered next, reveling in Hop’s little tremble.

  Rafe always tried to imagine a scene from his partner’s perspective and now was no different. He put himself in Hop’s shoes, being blinded and vulnerable and presenting yourself to someone who was a reminder of things you’d rather have forgotten. How exposed Hop must feel, how helpless.

  And still, he obeyed.

  Rafe was overwhelmed by Hop’s courage.

  As Hop’s unsteady hands struggled with the buttons of his jeans, Rafe soothed him, just a soft caress in Hop’s hair, a sweet connection to communicate how thankful and proud Hop was making him at
the moment. It calmed him instantly, which just amazed Rafe even more.

  When Hop pushed his pants to his knees, he studied Hop’s cock. Uncut, jutting out from slender hips with bones so sharp they might cut, it was about seven inches long. The swollen head was shiny and peeked from under its protective hood as if to say hello. His balls were high, tight and incredibly hairless.

  A rumble of approval escaped Rafe’s chest.

  “Tell me why you deserve to be punished.” He circled Hop so he could see his muscular, dance-firm ass. His palms itched with the desire to feel the sting of flesh.

  Hop’s voice, when it came, was deeper than Rafe had ever heard it, as if it had been dragged out of him from the darkest depths. “I, uh, I...”

  Rafe waited for him to decide exactly what he’d done wrong.

  “I shouldn’t have left that night before we finished talking.” Hop’s voice was quiet but steady.

  “Very good, that’s true. Don’t do that again.” Rafe smoothed a palm down Hop’s spine to his ass. Just as Hop arched into the touch, Rafe stopped. “What else?” Because there was more, one big thing that needed to be dealt with, and Rafe would keep pushing until Hop admitted it.

  “I shouldn’t have avoided you all week.” A hint of frustration tinged Hop’s voice and made Rafe smile.

  Rafe closed the distance between them so his warmth would soak into Hop’s back, and whispered, “I won’t punish you for that because you weren’t mine at the time. But you are now.” He slipped a hand around Hop’s throat and felt him swallow. “Mine.”

  Hop’s reply was an unintelligible keening sound that ripped through Rafe like a grenade. It took him a long time before he could open his mouth and keep his voice from cracking. “What else, Hop? Why should I punish you?” Rafe couldn’t let him hide. Not from this.

  Hand still locked in place like a collar, Rafe felt it the moment Hop realized what he needed to say. His pulse sped up and his breath hitched.

  “Tell me.” Rafe squeezed a little and another whimper escaped from Hop’s lips.

  “I put myself in a dangerous situation.” All raspy and uncertain. Rafe changed his hold, less threat, more comfort.