Cherished

by Sara York

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHERISHED

  Quote

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  SARA YORK

  Also by Sara York

  WILDE CITY PRESS

  http://www.wildecity.com

  Cherished © 2013 Sara York

  Published in the US and Australia by Wilde City Press 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  Published by Wilde City Press

  ISBN: 978-1-925031-44-7

  Cover Art © 2013 Wilde City Press

  Cover Photography by Shawn Jantzen

  Cover Model: John Charles Dickson

  CHERISHED

  Sara York

  The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer.

  Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

  Chapter One

  The proper way to handle a book is often overlooked, misrepresented and underappreciated, just as the proper way to handle a young man is given the same misguided presumptions, which allows them to believe they have power when they shouldn’t. Scotty fingered the edge of the book, sliding his hand over the rough texture of the buckram, loving the way the cloth felt under his touch. He sighed, longing for the smooth feel of supple flesh under his fingers. Books were great, and he loved getting lost in a good story or studying the strange proclivities of humans written about in nonfiction tomes, but sometimes, he just wanted to sink into the sensation of soft flesh underneath him, to let the slow moans of a lover and the sharp intake of breath at the surprise of pain tickle his ears. It had been too long since his last lover, if he could call what they had love. Actually, he didn’t want another lover. He wanted someone who would submit and never give him a moment’s trouble. Questions and musings had their place, but in the bedroom, he was master.

  Scotty stood, gathering the books to be shelved, when he caught the sight of a group of boys. They were giggling and staring—at him. He rolled his eyes, wondering how long this had been going on. When they noticed his attention, they turned their heads away quickly, one of them elbowing a boy with blond hair that fell into his eyes. Blondie flipped his hair away from his face, his cheeks flaming pink as he glanced Scotty’s way, then ducked his head. Scotty studied them for a second, noticing the way Blondie buried his head in a book, trying to look busy. Irritation wove through him, and he rolled his eyes before heading for the stacks.

  Usually, it was the girls who were giggly and trying to flirt with him. Teenagers. He smiled to himself. They were cute, but these boys had to be exceedingly young and a boatload of trouble. He’d steer clear, no reason for a scandal where none existed. Scotty sighed, longing for his youth, those carefree days—well, semi-carefree days when he’d been the one staring at older men, watching the way they moved, how they would glance his way, their eyes bright with lust. Of course, when he pondered the past, not that he did that often, he realized exactly how wrong those men had been to even look at him, much less pursue him. But he had skeletons in his closet that would shock the wildest of his friends. Hell, his oldest lover he chose back then had been twenty-nine, more than fourteen years his senior. At thirty-one, he couldn’t imagine going after anyone younger than twenty-one. First, there was the drinking thing; he didn’t want to babysit his hookups. When he had sex, he wanted to have sex with a man, not a child. At fifteen, he’d wanted a man too, and he’d found plenty of guys who didn’t care that he was young, practically a child. Of course, with how fucked up he’d been, it was a wonder he survived his teen years. His foster parents had no clue, and he’d kept them in the dark because the truth was too bad to even contemplate revealing. He caught a glance of the boys again and sighed. If any of his friends did that—chased after jailbait—he’d beat them until he knocked some sense into them. Kids deserved to be kids, not worrying about sex until much later in life.

  Scotty bit his lip, then breathed in deeply, letting go of the past and pushing the demons back under the rug where they belonged—banishing them from his thoughts so he didn’t have to remember and didn’t have to hear the screams. He shivered, then ran his fingers over the books on the shelf, grounding himself, letting the orderliness of the library soothe him, helping to keep his life straight. Everything in the library had its place, and nothing was left unorganized. Here, amongst the stacks, he had control. This was his natural habitat, the place where he ruled without question. Books, he could depend on; young men who were too cute for their own good were wildcards, imps without a care in the world, treating others like yesterday’s garbage. Like he’d been at that age—good for a fast fuck but ready to kick an old ass to the curb as soon as something better showed up. Not that he was ancient, but in gay years, he was an old man. Cute young things like those boys at the table near the west stacks, they would be of age soon and have all of the attention. They’d be able to get away with anything just because their asses were perfect. To hell with courting the young. To hell with courting—he’d control, taking what he wanted and never looking back. Because in the end, that was the only way he could function. Lovers wanted more than he was willing to give, asking questions and trying to get close. Close was dangerous.

  The urge to do a scene ate at him. He’d head to Barringers tonight and find a willing sub. There was always a young man waiting to be dominated. Just thinking of pinking up some cute young thing’s ass made his dick twitch. Of course he rarely had sex with any sub he wasn't in a relationship with, that would give them too much power. He picked and chose, only shoving his dick in the guys that really caught his attention. Scotty shook his head, turning his concentration to the task at hand.

  With three of the books back in their proper places, he had two more to go when he caught sight of the boys watching him again. The blond-haired beauty ducked his head, a blush covering his face. The other boys said something and snickered behind their hands. He should tell them to be quiet, but he was frozen in place, unable to approach. They’d been watching him for the last ten minutes. Goodness, groupies? He didn’t need any barely old enough to drive boys snickering about him, ruining his peace.

  Scotty asked Janice, his co-worker, to mind the desk while he went into the vault—it wasn’t a real vault, just the storage area—to search for the holiday decorations. With September almost over, Halloween macabre would add an air of festiveness the patrons seem
ed to enjoy. It was a task they usually fought to avoid, but with the twittering group of boys on the main floor, he needed the distraction. Two hours later, he had all of the decorations for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas arranged in stacks by holiday. Decorating this year would be a snap.

  Two days later he was back at his desk and noticed the same group of boys. He had Janice tell them to be quiet. Their visits continued for the next month, always coming on Tuesday and Thursday. He wondered when they would tire of watching him. The week after Thanksgiving, his work took him to the set of shelves next to their table. It was the first time he’d gotten close enough to really see them. His heart grew heavy in his chest as he realized they weren’t as young as he’d first assumed. The blond-haired beauty caught his gaze and held it for longer than socially acceptable, only breaking off the stare when Janice came up and gave Scotty two more books. The man’s eyes were almost sky blue in color. He could drown in eyes like those and wished Janice hadn’t interrupted them.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by as Scotty wondered how he could meet the boy—hell, that wasn’t any boy, he was all man. Blue eyes haunted his dreams, leaving him needy as hell each morning. He should schedule time at the club and find someone he could actually fuck. He snorted in disgust; though he wanted to get off, he didn’t want to deal with the people. Too many of the subs were angling to be in a relationship with him, and none of the regulars appealed to him. He’d tried to do a session a few weeks ago, but the sub he’d chosen had been demanding, trying to force his way, leading the scene instead of letting Scotty master him. In reality, Scotty couldn’t get into the scene once the sub started in on the attitude, it turned him off, and he began to look weak. Weakness at a place like Barringers was a death knell. He’d need to look strong the next time he showed up at the club or risk losing all respect he had in that environment.

  Two weeks before Christmas day, he flew to Colorado and spent time with a friend from college, returning home two days before New Year’s. His first day back at the library, he watched for blue eyes, but the man was absent. Another few weeks passed before he saw the beauty again. In his mind, he’d discounted the desire and lust that fired in his veins when he saw Blue Eyes, attributing it to the dreams he’d been having, but no, the moment his gaze settled on the crown of soft curls and the pale complexion, he wanted to strip off the man’s clothes, bind him to a flat surface and run his hands lovingly over the perfect ass and sexy legs. He noticed Blue Eyes had gotten his hair cut, making him look even older. Being near the young man was dangerous.

  Scotty pushed aside his lust and concentrated on researching a few books by local authors, deciding which ones to buy and what to table for later consideration. He enjoyed looking through local authors’ works, finding pleasure in their zeal for writing and taking heart from their fresh look, eschewing conventional publishing standards and writing what they wanted to write.

  He sensed someone approaching his desk. The person cleared their throat, and Scotty glanced up, his breath catching in his chest. Blue Eyes stood in front of him, his hands shaking a bit. Maybe over the holidays the cute little thing received some courage for Christmas. He’d have to thank whoever had gifted the young man the bravery to approach his desk.

  “May I help you?” Scotty asked, his voice even, though excitement skittered through him.

  “Um, I have a paper I need to write, and I-I was wondering if you could direct me to a resource that describes the proper use of adverbs and gerunds. Or if you know, you could explain it to me.”

  Blue Eyes looked at him hopefully, his face pinked up and his lips red as a rose. The boy had grown out a bit of scruff that, in addition to the haircut, had him looking even older than he had before the break. Now Scotty was sure he was an adult and not a child. Scotty cleared his throat, stalling just a bit as he thought about what he wanted to do to the man.

  “Well, adverbs can be correctly placed in multiple spots for maximum effectiveness, depending upon your particular desire. You know, it’s not every day someone asks me questions about parts of speech.” Scotty adjusted his glasses, looking the young man up and down, wondering how much trouble he could get into for pushing the guy up against the nearest row of bookshelves and devouring his luscious lips.

  “I just—you know—have a paper due, and I need some emergency help.”

  “And what is your paper on?” Scotty lifted one eyebrow, trying to concentrate on the words coming from Blue Eyes, but all he could think about was tying the guy’s hands behind his back and feeding him chocolate-covered strawberries, smearing dark chocolate over the man’s lips, then having the guy suck his cock. Scotty shuddered, trying like hell to hide his desire.

  “Um, it’s on the…” The guy’s face turned a darker shade of pink, and he glanced away. “I’m writing about early English clothing.”

  “Interesting.” Scotty stood and came around the desk. “Follow me.” He led the sexy man to the section on clothing. A few years ago, the university had given the library their collection of books on clothing, starting the process of his boss buying up every book on English formalwear he could find.

  “We have a unique selection of books on the subject. I think it would be better for you to look in these books than to ask me obscure grammar questions. And about those gerunds, they tend to draw things out…that is, if you’re into slow and easy.” He stopped abruptly, turning to face his new interest. The guy was close, closer than Scotty had assumed. Suddenly, they were touching, the young man’s hand on Scotty’s chest, his fingers flexing against the crisp starch of Scotty’s shirt. Big blue eyes gazed up at him, lips parted, panting quickly as the young man moaned a little, sending tendrils of desire straight to Scotty’s cock.

  Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

  The guy smiled and stepped back, sticking out his hand—the hand that had been so comfortable with Scotty’s pec just seconds ago. “I’m Wesley, by the way.”

  “Scotty Fuller. So Wesley, you’re enrolled where, exactly?” He prayed Wesley didn’t say Westfield High, as that would be a shame. So young, cute beyond reason and the perfect size for the games Scotty liked to play.

  “I go to SCAD. I’m finishing my senior year.”

  Scotty couldn’t help but smile. His luck was changing. The Savannah-based college was one of the best art schools in the country and drew a wide range of young men—men like this one. Wesley wasn’t some kid; he was an adult and fair game. Now, all Scotty had to do was talk the cute Mister Wesley into joining in his fun and games.

  “So Wesley, when you finish your paper, will you bring it by for me to read?”

  Wesley turned pale and glanced away. “Um, sure.”

  Scotty studied Wesley, noticing that he wouldn’t make eye contact and was fidgeting with his hair. The boy was a horrible liar.

  “Is something wrong?” Scotty stepped closer, taking away Wesley’s personal space.

  Wesley’s gaze shot to Scotty’s, and his eyes rounded, his nostrils flared. “No, nothing.”

  “Let me guess. There isn’t a paper, is there?”

  Wesley ducked his head and chewed at his bottom lip. Scotty didn’t move and didn’t speak. He stood still, waiting for Wesley to look at him again. Scotty counted to five before Wesley looked up and blushed. He felt a surge of power, his whole body tingling with excitement. His palm itched to lay into Wesley’s backside, pinking up his creamy cheeks before smoothing kisses over his hot flesh. This one would be beautiful as he submitted. Scotty could see it plain as day: Wesley on his knees, his arms tied behind his back, his cock so hard it turned purple, a little bead of pre-cum on the tip.

  “Do tell me, then, why did you come to talk to me? And be truthful. It’s important to always tell me the truth.”

  Wesley didn’t break eye contact as he swallowed hard, his throat muscles bunching and relaxing. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, then letting the plump flesh slowly slip from his hold.

&n
bsp; Scotty tilted his head and pulled his glasses down, his eyebrows arched as he stared at Wesley. “Speak.”

  “No, there isn't. I just—” Wesley grew silent, his gaze darting away.

  “Wesley,” Scotty whispered, drawing the young man’s attention. “Always look at me when I am speaking to you.”

  Wesley’s cheeks flamed pink and he nodded. He didn’t say anything, and Scotty wondered if he was pushing too much. They weren’t at Barringers, the club where Scotty played, and he doubted if Wesley had ever been anyone’s sub, but the kid pushed all of Scotty’s buttons. His red lips and tanned skin mixed with his blond hair was an amazing combination that left Scotty aching to touch and taste.

  “You can tell me.” Scotty gave an encouraging nod.

  Wesley’s gaze dipped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Scotty’s heart squeezed at the man’s shyness. The top of Wesley’s head only came to Scotty’s chin, and by no means was Scotty tall, only five eleven. That would make the young Wesley close to five three or four. He was skinny too, but the enticing curve of muscles on the boy’s arms teased Scotty.

  He placed his finger under Wesley’s chin, tilting up his head until he was looking at Scotty once more. “Just say it.”

  “My friend, Dustin, and I have been studying here all of this year, and well, we do so because—God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  The rush of blood to his cock was only exceeded by the excitement he felt at Wesley’s words. He shivered as he watched Wesley lick his lips. Scotty noticed the guy’s hands shaking. Then Wesley’s body swayed a bit, his eyes getting even bigger. Scotty placed a reassuring hand on Wesley’s shoulder and reveled in the shudder that shook through the man.

  “Go on,” Scotty encouraged.

  “Dustin dared me to ask you out, like a month ago, and my time is up. Either I ask you out or I have to—” Wesley stopped talking and looked away.

  “Have to do what?”

  “It’s too embarrassing.”