Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  Cole sagged against the wooden desktop and grunted when I fell on him in a satisfied heap. We were connected for a few more minutes, but reality quickly set in, and the enormity of our actions hit me like a slap in the face. Cole moaned as if he were in pain.

  “Oh God, did I hurt you?” I asked, pulling out and straightening up my clothes. I looked at him, still bent over and naked, and could not believe what just happened. Fucking my former partner was bad enough, but doing it unprotected was irresponsible and stupid.

  “No,” Cole said, pushing away from the desk, “I’m okay.” He drew up his pants, but not before he plucked several tissues from the conveniently located box of Kleenex, thoughtfully placed by the management of the funeral home for sopping up copious tears. It worked equally as well for cleaning up the semen that dribbled out of Cole’s ass. He stuffed himself back into the Italian wool gabardine, cinching the Gucci belt around his very slim waist. Running his hands through his hair, he managed to set himself straight, and once again he looked like the cool and collected professor I was accustomed to seeing.

  “You didn’t hurt me at all.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. This was a horrible mistake.”

  “It wasn’t that awful, was it?”

  “What? No, it wasn’t,” I admitted, feeling even more guilty. “But I didn’t use a condom. What the hell were we thinking?”

  “I forced you.”

  I bleated out a hysterical laugh. “Are you serious? There was no way I was going to turn you down.”

  Cole reached out and held me in place. “I’m clean, Sloan. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Then we’re good.”

  “No, we’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “This should have never happened.”

  “Are you committed to this guy you’re with?”

  “Practically, although I haven’t a clue what he’ll do when I tell him what happened. He’ll either kill me or leave me.”

  “Then don’t tell him,” Cole said, back to his normally imperious tone. “This was a spontaneous thing, and you shouldn’t be held accountable.”

  I was completely disgusted by my loss of control, and his words were falling on deaf ears.

  “Let’s go outside,” Cole said, taking charge. “Hopefully no one heard us.”

  “Where’s whatshername?” I asked as an afterthought.

  “She had the babies by C-section and can’t move around yet.”

  “Too bad she didn’t die.”

  “Sloan.” Cole smirked. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

  I looked at Cole again, seeing him with new eyes. That comment would have been met with outrage nine months ago. Today, Cole thought it was funny. “You, on the other hand, seem quite different.”

  “Mistakes can be quite humbling,” Cole acknowledged.

  I was surprised by his statement because Cole rarely admitted he was wrong. It gave me a little bit of insight to his current state of mind, but instead of dwelling on it, I sought escape, separating from him as soon as we returned to the viewing room.

  Chapter 5

  I LIT up the minute I hit the sidewalk in front of the building, opting for some fresh air and nicotine before trying to make sense of what had just transpired. It was spontaneous, Cole had said. Don’t worry about it. But was it? Why would he come to his father’s viewing with lube in his pocket unless he was intent on seducing me? Cole’s motives would have to be explored at a later time. At the moment, my biggest concern was Trent.

  How in hell was I going to explain this? He’d practically proposed by offering to collar me, and I’d repaid him with this epic betrayal. What the fuck! How could I have been tempted so easily after everything Cole had done? He’d lied, cheated, and dumped me like trash, and yet I’d hardly resisted. Was it the ego boost that acted as the lure? Did the begging make it more enticing? Cole had been desperate enough to risk public exposure, something he’d never have considered in the past. Nonetheless, it was no reason to forget I was committed to a man who’d been my salvation and had nurtured me for months.

  I’d made a huge mistake, and I had no idea how to make amends, or if it was even possible. Lying was not an option. I would never be able to carry it off because it wasn’t in my nature. I needed guidance on how to dig my way out of this hole. And just then, the solution rounded the corner. Max Levitte―photographer, mentor, good friend, and former lover―raised an eyebrow when he saw me standing outside braving the cold. If anyone could get me out of this terrible predicament, Max could. Trent respected and listened to him, being a fellow dominant, and Max might have some insight on how to best handle my revelation. If nothing else, he could act as a buffer between Trent and me.

  “Are you that desperate for a cigarette?” Max asked, pulling his woolen scarf a little higher around his face. The wind was brutal today, and finding me outside battling the elements was atypical.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Are you okay, Sloan?”

  “Peachy.”

  “Oh dear,” Max clucked. “What’s wrong?”

  I groaned and laid my head against his shoulder. “Can we talk?”

  “Here?”

  “How about we go across the street and you can buy me a good, stiff drink?”

  “Darling, it’s not even noon.”

  “I could use some coffee and a lot of advice. Please?”

  “Come on,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder. We crossed the street and found an empty booth in the small coffee shop. After peeling off all our layers and hanging everything on the coat rack, we sat and waited for the waitress. “What’s the problem?” Max asked after the coffee had been poured and menus laid on the table.

  “You won’t believe what I’ve just done.”

  “With you, I’ll believe anything.”

  I spilled my guts, and by the time I got to the part where I had Cole draped across the desk, Max looked at me in astonishment. “You didn’t?”

  I bobbed my head. “Sure did… a funeral fuck. It’s a first for me.”

  Max bit his lip to try and keep the laughter from erupting. However, his shoulders were shaking from the effort. He couldn’t keep the amusement off his face as he listened to my absurd confession.

  “This is not funny, Max. Trent will go ballistic.”

  “So don’t tell him.” Max guffawed, finally succumbing to the moment.

  “What’s up with you and Cole?” I screeched, appalled by his reaction. “I didn’t know the world was so fucking dishonest.”

  Max reached for a paper napkin and dabbed his eyes. When he’d regained his composure, he said, “Not everyone is as pure as driven snow, darling. You’re the only one who’s got the morals of a nun. Does fucking Cole mean you’re ready to give up Trent?”

  “Hell no!”

  “There you go. One random fuck does not constitute cheating.”

  “Huh?”

  “Did it mean anything? Does it make up for the hurt Cole inflicted? Are you going to go running back because now he needs you?”

  “Whoa. Who said anything about going back?”

  “You’re treating this like some earth-shattering event, when in reality this is a typical reaction to death. He needed to get his rocks off to feel alive, and you were handy. I’ve seen this happen time and time again.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Really?” Max sneered. “How would you like to label this?”

  “I really don’t know, but I don’t need your sarcasm.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Whatever. I guess I could keep this to myself. Trent and I never talked about being exclusive, although I know he isn’t seeing anyone else. Is he?”

  “Not at the club.”

  “See? He’s been faithful, and he’ll be pissed as hell when he finds out I’m a cheating asshole.”

  “Get a grip, Sloan.”

  “I feel sick. I think I might throw up, or worse.”

  “Stop it!” />
  “I’ll try.”

  “Good, now eat,” Max ordered, picking up the club sandwich the waitress had placed in front of him. I looked at my patty melt and grimaced. Instead of taking a bite, I said, “Trent wants to collar me.”

  Max spat out half his sandwich and began coughing. I had to get up and thump him on the back, prepared to do the Heimlich if need be, but fortunately his coloring returned to normal.

  “Jesus Christ, Sloan.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any idea what a big deal it is to be collared?”

  “I know,” I moaned. “He’ll probably withdraw the offer now that I’ve strayed.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to say anything.”

  “Max, I can’t lie to him, even by omission. It’s wrong.”

  “Then tell him and suffer the consequences.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  Max pinned me down with a malevolent look. “God only knows.”

  “You think he’ll hit me?”

  “Has he ever?” Max frowned.

  “Relax, will you? He’s never done anything I didn’t ask for.”

  “What exactly does he do for you?”

  “I can’t discuss it with you.”

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “But hearing about you and Cole is?”

  “Who else can I tell?”

  “You always manage to give me the worst fucking headaches,” Max said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

  “I seem to have that power over everyone,” I remarked, thinking back on all the times Cole accused me of giving him a migraine. “I know I’m impulsive, Max, and my heart is too big for my brain, but he looked so sad.”

  “So sad,” Max mocked, rolling his eyes and pretending to swoon. Suddenly, he turned vicious. “Was he so goddamn pitiful you had to bone him in a flipping mortuary?”

  “It happened,” I yelled, finally losing my shit. “Screw this, Max. I’m going home to face the music.”

  “I’ll call the cops if I haven’t heard from you in forty-eight hours.”

  “You do that. I like pink carnations, by the way, none of those lily of the valleys for me.”

  “Stupid drama queen,” Max grumbled, shoving the rest of his sandwich down his throat.

  I TOOK a cab straightaway, not even bothering to go back into the funeral home to say I was leaving. Cole would have to figure it out on his own. On the way, I rehearsed my confession, fully prepared for a horrendous display of anger. The funny thing was I’d never once seen Trent lose his temper with me. I’d heard how tough he was, and I’d even witnessed him putting down a skinhead in London, but the man I knew was kind, intuitive, and amazingly tender, which would make this indiscretion that much harder to forgive. I was the first one to condemn it, and hell, if Trent needed to flog me to get over it, I’d let him. It was the least I could do. I decided to go home first and clean up. It wouldn’t be the best idea in the world to show up at Trent’s reeking of Cole.

  My boxers stuck to my skin, sticky with evidence. Setting the water temperature to a cleansing boil, I scrubbed like a maniac, hoping the coarse loofah would peel off at least one layer of guilt. However, there wasn’t enough soap in the world to absolve this. Replaying the scene with Cole and anticipating Trent’s punishment made me lightheaded with anxiety. I was vibrating by the time I stepped out of the shower stall and froze in place when I realized Trent was already in the apartment. He’d let himself in with the key I’d provided months ago.

  He smiled when he walked into the bathroom but the playfully seductive look was quickly replaced with suspicion when he saw my face. He could tell something wasn’t right. I refused to look him in the eye and was doing everything to keep busy and stay out of reach. My intuitive master’s instincts went on high alert, and he reached for my hand and pulled me closer. He scrutinized me, trying to figure out what had happened while I was gone. “You’re back much sooner than I expected.”

  “There was no need to stick around,” I explained. “He’s got tons of support.”

  “I see.” Trent waited patiently for me to add more details. He could read me like a book, and I was unraveling in front of his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “We fucked,” I blurted out tactlessly. The enormity of my statement reflected in Trent’s eyes as they went from calmly inquisitive to dangerously frosty. The clear blue turned indigo with controlled fury, and he spat out the next word.

  “Where?”

  “Right there at the funeral parlor,” I confessed. “I feel sick about it.”

  “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “If you had to fuck him, I hope it was worth it.”

  “I was trying to console him, sir. He was sobbing, and one thing led to another. Before I knew it, we were kissing.”

  “Shit happens,” Trent said coldly, “thus the expression. Death is a constant reminder of one’s mortality, and sex is often used as a coping mechanism. However,” he said, stepping away from me and releasing my hand, “what happened between you and Cole will have repercussions. Since this was spontaneous, I’m assuming you didn’t use a condom.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, Sloan. This moves everything back several months.”

  “What?”

  “Obviously, you’re still conflicted about Cole, and I’m not prepared to collar anyone who’s not fully committed to me. Furthermore, if you had any illusions of fucking me raw, you can forget about it.”

  I knelt in front of Trent and leaned my head against his leg. “How can I make this up to you? Hit me, if you need to, but please don’t think for one minute that I have any intention of going back to Cole.”

  “Sloan, if I were to hit you in the mood I’m in right now, you’d never get up. I don’t do anything in anger, so I’m walking out of this apartment before this turns really ugly.”

  “Will you be back?”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” Trent said, picking up his keys. “Don’t try and contact me. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”

  I reached out to try and stop him, but Trent whipped around and snarled. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Please….”

  He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 6

  THE SMELL of leather and the large selection of whips and floggers had a calming effect when I walked through the doors of the gaming room at Wilde. I’d been trained to evaluate situations before reacting. Losing control and allowing emotion-based decisions accomplished nothing but failure and disappointment. I was infamous for keeping cool under fire, but Sloan had managed to trip my wires, and I’d been an ass hair away from slamming my fist into his face. My boy was more challenging than a trek through the Afghani mountains with full survival gear, but he was honest to a fault―I’d have to give him that much. Sloan could have lied, but that wasn’t his MO. There were days when I wondered why I put up with half of his crap. He was nothing like the subs I’d known in the past. Sloan was a rule breaker from the word go, but when he did surrender, it was so heartfelt and moving it rang every one of my bells. There was nothing finer than hearing Sloan beg.

  The incident with Sloan’s ex-partner wasn’t altogether unexpected, but I had been bracing for it earlier in our budding relationship. I’d assumed Cole would try and win him back, but when months went by with no incident, I’d gone complacent―big mistake. Knowing the enemy was one of the first things they’d drilled into me at West Point, and I’d fucked up by thinking Cole would surrender without a fight. The man had played Sloan and was intent on getting him back. I knew it as sure as I knew that I wasn’t about to give him up. Sloan was mine, and Cole was in for a rude awakening if he thought I was going to walk away from a very satisfying union over one infraction.

  If I had been the type of person who’d retreated at the first obstacle, I’d never have
achieved most of my goals in such a short time. It had been years since I thought of home, back in Macon County, the heartland of Illinois, but I could still hear the words of my father telling me to get my head out of my books to go and do my chores. The anger and frustration I’d felt then was pretty close to what I was feeling now.

  I’d had the disadvantage of being an only child in a farming family, where work was synonymous with breathing. Every waking hour was either spent in school or caring for the creatures that inhabited our farm. The days were the same, a mindless routine to make sure the animals were warm, reasonably clean, and fed. As soon as the hogs heard my footsteps, the grunting and squealing would start, and the noise would accelerate until each trough was filled. While they were busy eating, I’d hose down the concrete floors that gently sloped toward a drain on one side. After that, I’d clean out each individual stall and replace the soiled hay with fresh, shoveling the waste into the compost bin outside. If it was any season but winter, the hogs were let out into the enclosed pasture to root around and wallow in the mud holes that were important for cooling off and keeping them free from parasites.

  The only time I could call my own was right after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away. I’d race to my room and bury my nose in the latest Tom Clancy novel. I was a huge fan of Jack Ryan, Clancy’s intrepid CIA hero, and I gobbled up the tales of espionage and covert operations as fast as I could procure the novels from the library. It led to a burning desire to join the military. My parents had assumed I would remain on the farm and live the kind of life they’d always known. When I first asked to join the army, their answer was a resounding no! They didn’t count on my single-mindedness and overachieving personality. With escape in mind, I put my efforts into academics and began to excel in school, catching the eye of the recruiter who lurked around school property, hoping to lure innocent farm boys into the military life. He had no problem convincing me. The problem was getting my parents to agree. The offer of free education at West Point—and the honor and prestige that came with it—was pretty hard to pass up, and eventually they let me go. No one bothered to read the fine print except for me. I knew I’d be indebted to the army for a specific number of years to repay their investment, which suited me perfectly but came as a shock to my parents. They’d been sure I’d be back after four years to pick up the slack and take on the bulk of the work at the farm. Wrong.