Essence of Time (Stewart Realty)

by Crowe, Liz

  Chapter Five

  “Are you sure about this?” Rob eyed his friend’s tall, newly muscled frame. Jack shrugged into a dress jacket, shot his cuffs, ran a hand through his still wet, thick black hair. He’d finally convinced Rob to accompany him to “the club” in Detroit, and Rob was both nervous and skeptical about the whole thing.

  He’d arrived at Jack’s doorstep two days after René walked out of his life. Armed with the sum total of his possessions in two suitcases and a case of beer. The look on his friend’s face went beyond surprise. He had gripped Rob’s shoulders and pulled him in for a giant hug. Rob knew he’d done the right thing at least once in his life.

  The summer had passed in a haze of booze and remorse. Between the two of them they’d easily qualify for sad-sack, pussy-whipped Men of The Year award. By the sixth week, Rob was completely sick of the word “Jenna.” Turns out the woman had allowed herself to be “collared,” where she had declared to the world that she was Jack’s official submissive and unavailable to anyone else, no questions asked. Turned out, she didn’t quite see it that way. By the time she and Jack had declared themselves official Dom/sub, she’d already had a wandering eye. A couple of his roommates at the large house he shared with Evan Adams had pulled a double on her, the week before graduation, while Jack was back in Ann Arbor interviewing at a title company for his first official job as an attorney.

  Since Rob had been back, the better part of their time while not at work had been spent in repeatedly similar, lame conversations.

  “So, what part of “committed” did she not get man?” Rob handed Jack another beer. They’d latched on to some craft-brewed products out of Kalamazoo that summer and drank the shit out of them.

  “Don’t know exactly. What I do know is that I obviously had no idea how to be her Dom. She played me. Big time.” Jack downed the beer and reached for another. Rob got up to check the dinner he’d made for them in the miniscule kitchen. They both had money to burn and so ate and drank very well. Rob got to practice all the skills he’d learned with prime cuts of meat, vegetables, and deserts. He returned, sat and stared at his friend.

  “How did you find out?”

  Jack glared at him, then sighed. “She told me. She was rather proud actually. Fucking cunt.” Jack’s brows furrowed. Rob sighed, putting a hand on his friend’s knee. “I was such a pussy. I swear on my mother’s grave I will never, ever let that happen again.”

  “All women aren’t that way, you know.” Rob insisted.

  “Yes. They are. Pass me a beer.”

  Rob handed one over. “No they are not.”

  Jack shot him a significant look. “One word my friend: Christine.”

  Robs lifted his brown bottle. “Two words: Fuck you.”

  “I rest my case.”

  They spent nights sitting side by side watching either ESPN Sportscenter or a live baseball or soccer game, sipping and contemplating themselves. “She laughed at me. Fucking giggled and stared at the fucking ring I had bought like it was roadkill.” Rob let Jack go on, “then proceeds to take off her necklace, hand it to me and describe in full detail how she got DP’ed by my roommates downstairs. Full fucking detail, dude. Really throws cold water on a man’s brain, you know?” He put a hand on Rob’s leg. Rob flinched, moving away slightly.

  “I should tell you something.” He muttered around his bottle realizing they were both drunk enough to handle this little moment of truth. As Jack leaned back, putting both arms across the back of the couch, Rob let a sense of peace settle over him. He was completely comfortable with the man, his friend, his compatriot, the guy he’d seen more up close and personal than any “friend” had a right to. It was okay. “I’m bi. I mean, in France, I…um…”

  Jack threw his head back and laughed until tears roll down his face. Rob gulped and finished his umpteenth beer. The room spun. “My man.” He slapped Rob’s knee, got up and made his wobbly way to the bathroom. Returning, zipping up, he grinned at Rob who still sat, frozen in place, on the couch. “I knew that already. It’s cool. You are my brother. The end. Be happy, that’s all I want for you. Well, that, and you helping me land more pussy. You still okay with that?” He flopped back down on the couch, anger settling over his handsome features again. “Fucking bitch. C’mon let’s eat that gourmet whatever the hell it is that smells so damn good and hit the town!”

  Rob shook his head to clear it from that memory, stood and pulled a soft leather belt through the loops of his trousers. The club apparently had a dress code and even though he was going as an “observer” tonight, as Jack’s special guest, he had no idea what to expect. Less than no idea actually, “So, what am I supposed to do anyway? Watch you spank some chick to get her off?”

  Jack threw him an irritated look. Rob gave him a “what the fuck?” expression back. “No. I explained it to you. You and Kyle will merely observe the early selection. Where the people—women mostly—are there in various stages of moderate restraint, and the potential Doms, like me, present ourselves to them. I usually spot one I like right away, compel her to pick me. But at the end of the night, it is the submissive’s call who gets to play.” He adjusted his tie once more. “I’ve never gone without at this place I assure you.”

  Rob rolled his eyes and found his soft camel-hair jacket, smoothed his newly cut hair back and stared at himself a minute. How far he’d come. He clenched his fists, let himself recall last week’s clean bill of health and sent out a quick “up yours” to the cancer librarian. His book was still not due apparently. Might as well jump into this shit with both feet. “What if I want to participate?”

  “You can’t.” Jack stalked out, downed a huge glass of water. “You haven’t been drinking have you?”

  “No. You told me not to.”

  “Okay, good.” The guy looked a little nervous. Rob smiled at him.

  “Relax my brother. It’s cool. I’m not making fun of you or this…kink you’ve chosen.” Jack glared at him.

  “I don’t know anymore.” He sank into a kitchen chair, the light fading from his eyes. “I mean, I loved it. Fucking ate it up. But since Jenna.” He ran a hand over his face, through his hair. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a total buzz, still. I just… “ He stood, buttoned his jacket and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late.”

  Rob realized at that moment how much his friend wished he, Rob, would say “no, let’s go to a bar instead,” but he didn’t. He was curious. And Jack had to figure out that it was not his thing anymore on his own.

  The Suite was just that: A giant, two-story penthouse in a decrepit looking downtown Detroit building with a killer view of the Detroit River and of Canada. Jack eased his truck into an underground parking spot and the two of them got into a creaky, old-fashioned elevator. The mirror across from them reflected back a couple of very well-dressed, successful-looking handsome men in their prime. Light and dark, tall, compelling—no wonder they’d scored so much in college. Rob smiled and Jack gave him a thumbs-up as the elevator rose, slowly to the topmost floors.

  The doors parted and Rob’s world changed. The foyer was kitted out like a ritzy hotel lobby with tasteful fresh flowers, low-slung leather furniture, and expensive Turkish carpets. It was quiet, and smelled like a heady combination of vanilla, leather and something Rob couldn’t quite place but would come to forever associate with the man who strode in, his dark face split in a huge grin at the sight of Jack.

  “My superstar,” he gripped Jack’s hand. Clad in a soft grey, three-piece suit, the guy was, in a word, gigantic. He towered over Rob and Jack who were each well over six feet tall. He wore his expensive-looking wool hand-tailored suit like a glove. His skin was the color of rich, hot chocolate, a milky light brown, with an improbable light dusting of what seemed to be freckles across the bridge of his nose. His close-cropped hair was…Rob squinted in the subtle lighting…a reddish shade of brown but tight, curly. The hand he extended to Rob was huge. Rob had never felt more intimidated and, he squirmed a litt
le, never more fucking turned on in his entire life. Not even Christine had had this smack-you-upside-the-head affect on him. “I’m Kyle Summerlin. Welcome to The Suite. I’m pleased to meet you,” his odd, gray-hazel eyes met Rob’s and held them. The moment stretched out, way out. Jack cleared his throat to snap Rob back to the present. He felt blood rush to his face, and realized he had not let go of Kyle’s hand.

  Rob fiddled with the cufflinks he’d bought just for the fancy shirt Jack insisted he wear tonight. “Uh, likewise.” The space in his brain where he allowed erotic ideas to enter his consciousness was burning, bright and clear. He hadn’t been with anyone since returning from France and part of him still ached for René. He shifted, tried not to cover his embarrassing, middle-school-ish hard on too obviously. Jack stared at him a minute, then focused on Kyle.

  “Yeah. So. This is Rob, I told you about him. He’s interested, but not enough to participate tonight. Or so I thought.” Rob realized Jack was staring at him but he could not rip his eyes from the vision in front of him. A pure, visceral pulse of desire shot through him so fast, he had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from shivering. Impossibly broad shoulders, a bright white smile and a sudden knowing sparkle in Kyle’s eyes, all combined to make Rob ready to pounce, or run screaming out into the Detroit streets.

  “Yes, Rob.” A deep rumbling voice matched the large persona. “I assume Jack told you about the process?” Jack shifted a little. Rob had almost forgotten the guy was in the room. Kyle held out a hand, indicated the two men should lead the way into the next room. “Jack, you know the drill.” Jack nodded and turned to Rob.

  “I have to head this way. You stay,” he jerked his thumb at Kyle, “with him. You good with that, brother?” Rob nodded, still speechless. Kyle chuckled, put a hand on Rob’s shoulder. The spark that shot between them made even the tall suave club owner gasp. Jack smiled. “Yeah. Okay. You boys behave. I have some work to do.”

  “Don’t be cocky Gordon or I’ll pull you.” Kyle took a step away from Rob, putting well-needed space between them. Jack shrugged, shot his cuffs and walked through a huge, wooden set of double doors. Rob took a deep breath, tried to recover some equilibrium. “Come,” the single word from the other man’s mouth made his entire body pebble with anticipation, “with me. Can I offer you water? Juice? Tea?”

  Rob shook his head. Swallowing hard, he followed Kyle’s impossibly large back down a softly lit corridor. Subtle music oozed around them. He was aware of several attractive, well-dressed men and a couple of women milling about. Kyle greeted them all by name, shared a few jokes, slapped shoulders and hugged the two very attractive, older looking women before guiding Rob through another door. Rob wanted to ask him to please remove his hand from the small of his back. He needed no guidance. But the heat there pleased him, and terrified him at the same time.

  He opened a door to a small room with a large, what Rob assumed was one-way glass. There were several sweating bottles of water on the low glass table, a bowl of fresh fruit, and some expensive chocolates. Rob took a deep, cleansing breath. “I don’t like to be tied up.” He blurted out, apropos of absolutely nothing. Kyle sat, stuck a chocolate in his mouth and stared at him. Rob felt his face flush red. “I mean, just trying to make conversation here.”

  “No, I don’t think you are actually.” Kyle picked up an apple, tossed in the air and caught it without looking, over and over again. “Have a seat Rob. Relax. I don’t bite.”

  Rob shut his eyes a second, opened them, shocked to see a deep well of desire in the unique gray-green stare of the man seated in front of him. Oh fuck. He sank into the luxurious leather chair on the other side of the table and tried to relax, but the extreme hardness under his zipper would not allow it. He watched the five women and two men enter the front of the room, all in some form of restraining get up. The were all blindfolded and led by someone, guided down to their knees and all of them kept their faces trained down to the floor. Rob caught sight of Jack and his friend Evan and about ten other men and the two women enter the opposite end of the room.

  “Why…I mean…”

  “Submissives have all the power.” The man’s casual attitude irritated Rob for some reason. He leaned forward and watched as one by one, the “Doms” made their way to the front, stood in front of one or two of the kneeling “subs.” Then, they would abruptly walk away and take their seats. Puzzled, he turned to look at Kyle.

  Big mistake.

  The man’s gaze was locked in on Rob like a laser. He gulped. “So, um, what now?” He pointed to the window, grabbed a water bottle for something to do with his shaking hands. Dear god if he could just taste those lips. He shook his head to clear it.

  “The subs choose. They can look down and see enough to see the color or make of footwear in front of them. Then…oh look big surprise, your friend is chosen first. Happens a lot.” He pointed and Rob watched, mesmerized as Jack made his way down to the front. He stood in front of a slight, black-haired beauty in a bustier and choker collar. Put his hand on her head. “Now, he gets to make a call. He’ll ask her to do one thing, in public. The public display is a big step for many subs. Some aren’t up to it, which is fine. But…” he nodded toward the window again. “Our man Gordon can convince anyone of anything it seems.”

  Rob watched as Jack helped the woman to her feet. She was all leg, something Rob knew Jack preferred. Her nearly flawless hourglass shape enhanced by the tight leather get up she wore. He watched as Jack leaned in, lifted her blindfold and kissed her with such intensity Rob had to remind himself to breathe.

  Kyle chuckled. “That’s his MO, ‘She has to kiss me like she means it.’ It’s well played, actually. Not in any way humiliating. Gets them every fucking time.” He crossed one well-shod foot over the other in front of him. Rob watched, realizing it for what it was. A connection, for Jack, meant a kiss. He didn’t bestow them often. As a matter of fact he could hardly remember his friend kissing any woman.

  “So,” the deep, gravelly voice of the other man in the room hit him smack in the libido. “Robert.” He managed to draw the simple name out in his odd, English-yet-not accent.

  Rob kept his eyes trained on the activity below, trying like hell to ignore the signals coming from the incredibly compelling and intimidating man in the room. He did not need this now. Jumping into something so fresh from René. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Willed his body to stop reacting to whatever chemistry the guy in the expensive suit was throwing at him.

  “You are very attractive.” Rob glanced over his shoulder. His looks were something he took for granted, didn’t even give much credence to. Not after what he’d been through. He was happy to be breathing, much less in a supposedly attractive collection of skin, bones and muscles. The eyes that met his were narrowed.

  “Thanks.” He kept watching as the people below paired off and disappeared. Jack first, Evan second then the rest of them. “Jack is…”

  “A natural at this.” Kyle’s voice stayed neutral. “But he does not have his heart in it, just his body, that much is obvious. I’ve seen it all, trust me. Our mutual friend is headed for a serious melt down unless something changes for him.”

  Rob scoffed. “Jack is probably the least introspective guy on the planet.”

  “You might be surprised.” Within seconds, in the proverbial blink of an eye, the massive form of Kyle was in his personal space. He stood, grabbed Rob’s hand and pulled him up. The touch set off alarms, and jolts of pleasure in him he had no frame of reference for. “But for now, I think I need to educate you.”

  Rob started to pull away but Kyle had one hand on his hip and the other curled around his neck. “I don’t know what you, oh.” He gulped as the other man’s hand drifted down to touch his straining zipper. “Shit.”

  “Yes. Well,” Kyle took a deep breath, leaned in and whispered in Rob’s ear. “I don’t usually do this but…,” Rob shut his eyes at the touch of Kyle’s lips to his skin. “I am incredibly attracted to you, Rob
ert.” His voice stayed low, reverberated around Rob’s skull.

  “So, educate me then.” He gasped as the man captured his lips, dove into his mouth with a strong, invasive tongue. At that moment he would have done anything to get closer to Kyle. As his head buzzed with need, his chest tightened with a different sort of want. One he was afraid he’d found; one he knew he would have to reject.

  ****

  Later that night, more sexually sated than he’d been in his life, Rob went up on an elbow to observe the man who he had let tie him onto a bed and give him a lesson in orgasm denial he would never forget. He touched Kyle’s full lips, startling the other man out of a light nap. He smiled at Rob, his odd colored eyes twinkling.

  “Well? Was it what you thought it would be?” He stretched, and Rob tried hard not to stare at the man’s utter physical perfection: A full chest, cut abs, and amazing, still half-hard cock.

  The words burst from his lips. “When can I move in?”

  Kyle chuckled deep in his chest and Rob had an alarming moment when he realized he may not have been kidding. The man had touched something deep in him, something primal, by taking complete control and forcing Rob to relinquish it. He had fucking loved it, too much.

  “So tell me, how does a guy get to Detroit to open one of the hottest BDSM clubs around and sound like a bloody English butler anyway?” He deflected, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.