Cleave (Cutting Cords Series Book 3)

by Mickie B. Ashling

“No… he’s never laid a hand on me in anger.”

  “He forgave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aye, he would. It sounds like you’ve met your Anam Cara.”

  “My what?”

  “Your soul friend.”

  “What did you call it?”

  “Anam Cara.”

  “What language?”

  “Gaelic.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “No need to be explainin’ when you’re pissed as fart. Perhaps another time.”

  “You’re a very wise leprechaun.”

  “And you, my wee friend, are ready for bed.”

  I grinned back at his indulgent smile. “Bryce, there’s nothing wee about me.”

  “So you’ve said. I’ll be callin’ your Trent to come and get you.”

  Chapter 17

  Four hours had passed since Sloan stormed out of Max’s studio. I kept hoping he’d come back, but I knew I’d blown it by acting like a jealous husband. Smoking and pacing wasn’t doing me any good, nor was my ignoring Max’s request to get my head back into the photo shoot. When his assistant told him I refused to cooperate, he charged right into the staff room and got in my face.

  “What’s your fucking problem, Trent? I have a business to run, and I’m on a deadline. I can’t be holding up this project because you and Sloan are having a lover’s quarrel. And where the hell is he, anyway?”

  I couldn’t stand the uncertainty and told Max what had happened. When he found out Sloan had used his safeword, he went nuts. I sat there and listened to his tirade over my mishandling of the whole incident.

  “You fucking idiot! Didn’t I tell you Cole was a wizard at manipulating Sloan? You should have listened to your boy instead of acting like the Terminator.”

  “I didn’t want him to go.”

  “I hear you, but you could have used more finesse. I’m disappointed in you, Trent. I gave you much more credit than you deserve.”

  “Stop meddling. I’ll go after him and resolve this once and for all.”

  “And how do you plan to resolve this when you have no idea where he is?”

  “I’ll call him.”

  “I’ve already tried that, and it goes straight to voice mail.”

  “Maybe he’ll pick up my call?”

  “Go ahead,” Max snarled, “give it your best shot.”

  I reached for my phone and punched in the numbers. Voice mail came on instantly, which meant Sloan had turned off the phone. “Fuck.”

  “What did I tell you? He doesn’t want to be found. What the hell, Trent? I thought you had a better handle on this.”

  “I thought so too.” I was miserable over my failure. I’d jumped to conclusions instead of listening to what Sloan had to say. The worst part of this was everything had been going so well. Sloan’s progress as my slave had been nothing short of miraculous. He’d stopped questioning my orders and had thrown himself into the role with a determination that eased my mind and had won him a lot of brownie points. Admittedly, I’d been tougher with him in this short time than I’d been in nine months, but it was necessary to prove a point. If he had any doubts about the lifestyle or our relationship, this would have pushed him out the door. For all his feistiness, Sloan under control was a beautiful sight, and I had decided to reward him with a trip down to Nassau. The warm waters of the Caribbean would be the perfect setting to renegotiate our contract, and Sloan’s reward for his perfect behavior would be forty-eight hours of unrestrained sex and my collar around his neck.

  A part of me was reluctant to end the intense bond that had developed during his time as my slave. Being aware of his every move was reassuring, but I knew this wasn’t the kind of relationship he wanted. I had to set him free, or he would continue to rebel. And I’d done the complete opposite by questioning his motives and assuming the worst.

  My phone rang suddenly. I didn’t recognize the number but picked up in case it was Sloan. “Hello.”

  “Trent?”

  “This is.”

  “Bryce Fletcher here, from The Tavern down in the West Village.”

  You could have sliced his accent with a knife. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fletcher?”

  “I have one Sloan Driscoll passed out on my sofa.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No, just hammered.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  I disconnected and reassured Max. “I’ve got him.”

  “Then go and bring him home. Fix this, Trent, and will you tell the kid you love him already? Stop playing games with him.”

  “I’m not playing games. He’s the one who didn’t know if he was coming or going.”

  “He’s in love with you and has been for a long time. Don’t ruin this because of one mistake.”

  “I’ve already forgiven him.”

  “But you haven’t forgotten, have you? If you had your way, Sloan would be shackled to your bed.”

  “Back off, Max. Let me deal with my sub without your interference.”

  “You came to me for advice.”

  “I know, and you’ve given me your two cents’ worth, so butt out.”

  “Hurt him and you can forget we ever met.”

  I wanted to punch his lights out, but I knew there was a lot of love behind the threat. Max was interested in Sloan’s well-being above anything else, and it made up for his scathing remarks. “I’ll fix this, Max.”

  “I hope so.”

  When I got to The Tavern, Bryce led me to the small office where Sloan had fallen asleep. He’d thrown a blanket over him, and my boy was snoring softly.

  “Thank you for calling me.”

  “He’s talked about you all afternoon, he did.”

  “I can only imagine what he had to say.”

  “He was in a wee bit of a snit over something, but he did say he loved you.”

  “Did he?” I was dumbfounded. How could Sloan still love me after I treated him with such disrespect?

  “Don’t be an eejit. You know damn well he does.”

  Nodding, I picked Sloan up easily and carried him to the waiting cab. Having him back in my arms was a huge relief. I gave the cabbie my apartment address, which was closer than Sloan’s place. He didn’t even wake up when I stripped off his clothes and tucked him into bed. The adrenaline driving me all afternoon melted away, leaving me mentally and physically exhausted. I took off my clothes and crawled into bed beside him.

  The noise coming from the bathroom woke me from my nap. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I saw it was almost midnight. I’d been asleep for a while, and from what I could hear, Sloan was paying for his afternoon at the bar in a big way. The sound of heaving was audible over the running water, and I decided to get up and see if he needed help.

  When I pushed the bathroom door open, he stood over the sink, brushing his teeth. “You okay?”

  His head snapped up, and he stared into my eyes through the mirror while he continued to brush. He spat out the toothpaste, rinsed both his mouth and the toothbrush, and turned around. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “And I apologize for being a total jerk.”

  “Trent―”

  We gravitated forward and fell into each other’s arms. Sloan wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned against me. He was naked and shaking from his bout with the porcelain goddess.

  “I didn’t mean to disobey you,” he mumbled quietly.

  “I should have listened before barking out orders like some fucking drill sergeant. Sometimes I forget I’m not in the army anymore.”

  “I know.”

  I lifted his face and kissed each eyelid gently. His lashes were spiked with tears, and it killed me to know I’d put them there. “Say you forgive me?”

  “How could I not when I love you so much?”

  His statement was humbling and forced me to bare my soul for the first time in my adult life. “I love you too….”

  “Do you?�
�� The tears poured down his face.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner, Sloan. I’ve been so caught up in punishing you for fucking Cole I’ve lost sight of what’s important.”

  “What?”

  “You and me.”

  He blinked back the tears. “It means a lot to hear you acknowledge there’s a partnership beyond anything else.”

  “Max and Bryce reminded me in no uncertain terms that I’m to blame for tripping your safeword. Eejit is what Bryce called me.”

  “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

  “I wasn’t with him long enough to tell, but he seemed very concerned about you.”

  “Dude, I talked his ear off all afternoon. He sat there and listened, plying me with one beer after another.”

  “Nothing will loosen your tongue more than alcohol.”

  “I’m done talking for now. Take me to bed, Master. I need.”

  “What do you need, babe?”

  “Babe?”

  “It’s better than boy, isn’t it?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  “You know.”

  “Okay… go and get ready while I take care of things on my end.”

  Chapter 18

  I lit several candles and turned on the music to create the right ambiance for what we were about to do. I was craving this. As much as I wanted the reunion sex, I needed the knife play even more. One would lead to the other, but the high would be far more intense. Hearing him say he loved me closed every gaping wound that had been left in the wake of our argument, and I needed the release of subspace to complete the healing process.

  I selected my favorite leather cuffs and wrapped them around each wrist. Trent insisted I be completely immobile whenever he cut me. His preferred knife was wicked sharp, and one wrong move could cause serious damage. It was hard to imagine it happening, because he was as proficient with a blade as he was with everything else. My legs were free, but my arms would be spread-eagle and attached to the chains dangling from his bedpost.

  By the time he walked into the bedroom, I was facedown on the bed and eager to proceed.

  “I thought we’d do something different tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Blindfold and earplugs.”

  “Really?”

  “It’ll amp up the sensation.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m happy with your candle choice.”

  “I know you prefer the paraffin, sir.”

  “It’s not a question of what I prefer. It’s what’s safe.”

  “You’re waxing me as well?”

  “No talking, babe. Concentrate on feeling.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trent covered my eyes with a mask similar to the ones they used to hand out on a plane to keep out the light, only this one was leather and custom fit. The earplugs were made of foam and purchased at the local pharmacy. They were throwaways and adequate to block out noises. Instead of panicking at the sudden loss of sound and sight and my inability to move, I focused on each sensation as my master commenced.

  He started by pouring warm oil all over my back and legs and proceeded to give me a deep muscle massage. Trent had incredible hands, and the pleasurable sensation was putting me to sleep. Just as I was dozing off, the first dribble of hot wax hit my right thigh, and I gasped in shock. The temperature of the liquid was extreme, and I struggled to catch my breath as the pain gradually morphed into pleasure. I’d never understood how this phenomenon worked, but it never failed. Pain equaled pleasure, and my erection pressed into the mattress. More wax fell on my other leg, just as Trent shoved a sliver of ice up my asshole. The opposing sensations of hot and cold blew my mind. I humped the pillow Trent had shoved under me to lift my ass into a better position.

  My master dripped the hot wax closer and closer to my balls. The heat, counteracted by the ice, molded into one fireball of pleasure. I begged for release.

  “Fuck me, please….”

  He ignored me, as I knew he would. The next thing I felt was the dull edge of his knife scraping along my shoulders, a prelude to the cutting. I envisioned the lines he’d create with his blade and the slow seepage of blood from each gash, along with the intense pain. I came when I felt the fourth slice, crossing over to subspace immediately. I was floating on a cloud of pleasure so profound I stopped thinking. Trent pulled out the earplugs and whispered, “I love you,” adding to the overall feeling of euphoria. “You’re mine, Sloan.”

  “Yours,” I sobbed, moved to tears by my love for this man. It soared through every part of me, and I felt like I was being lifted off the ground and spinning in ever-widening arcs over the bed. I was probably still high from the beer I’d ingested earlier and the different levels of emotion toying with my nerves all afternoon.

  “You’ll always be mine,” he growled, pushing through the tight ring of muscle with a forceful thrust. Trent’s cock, in comparison to the slivers of ice, felt like an enormous hot poker jabbing at my prostate. I screamed this time, and the exquisite joy of submitting to my master’s every desire was superseded by the unexpected rush of warm semen as Trent climaxed deep inside me with no protection.

  I was shocked into silence. He’d forgotten the condom, or this was deliberate, but whatever the case, it rocked my world. I started to cry softly, and my heart was thudding against my chest as the enormity of his decision pierced through my fogged-up brain. “Master?”

  “It’s okay, babe… I’m negative.”

  “I know, but you said—”

  “Forget about what I said. Angry words don’t mean a damn thing.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

  “Okay.”

  Before he left to get the washcloth, he removed the eye mask and the leather cuffs. Rubbing my wrists, he kissed each one and then turned me over to kiss me on the mouth. “That was fucking intense.”

  “Amazing,” I concurred, still floaty.

  “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  I smiled, deeply satisfied with the outcome of the scene. My current outlook on life had shifted drastically from the afternoon’s gloomy depths. I kept thinking of Bryce and the Gaelic words which meant soul friend. I couldn’t recall them to save my life. It was cara something. I resolved to go back to the bar in the next day or so, with Trent this time. Bryce could explain this theory to both of us while I was sober.

  Trent came back with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water. I braced for the inevitable pain accompanying the cleanup.

  “How many gashes are there?”

  “Several,” Trent replied. He dabbed an alcohol-saturated cotton ball on my shoulder, and I hissed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “but we have to make sure they’re disinfected.”

  “It’s funny how it hurts so much more after the scene.”

  “I know. It’s impossible to explain.”

  “I’ve given up trying to figure it out. I’d much prefer to enjoy the moment.”

  “And you do it so well,” Trent praised, kissing me behind my ear. “Your submission was beautiful tonight.”

  “I’m only as good as my master.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Physically?”

  “And mentally.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good… do you want to tell me why you decided to get tanked?”

  “It was a better alternative to beating up Cole.”

  “Would you like to share?” Trent asked as he calmly peeled off the spots of wax scattered over my thighs. The massaging oil he’d applied before the waxing made the cleanup effortless.

  “Apparently, Noriko has given him the green light to have a boy toy on the side if he stays married to her. He thought I’d jump at the offer.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “What an asshole.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You did tell him to stop botherin
g you.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Do I have your permission to read him the riot act if he calls or shows up again?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “On your back, Sloan.”

  I flipped over again and watched him take the washcloth and rinse it out in the warm water. He was such a methodical man, and his attention to detail tonight was particularly endearing. He carefully wiped up the semen dribbling out of my asshole, passing the soft cloth gently across my scrotum and penis to make sure I was squeaky clean.

  “Master, may I ask you a question?”

  “Ask me as many as you want.”

  “First of all, I want you to know I’m negative, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “What made you change your mind about doing it raw?”

  He paused and his eyes glittered with emotion. “When you used your safeword I about died. The realization that you might actually walk away from this scared the spit out of me.”

  “Come here,” I said, opening my arms to him. “I was fucking livid when you doubted me earlier. It was another reason I got so drunk.”

  “I know! Doing it raw was the only way I could prove I have no more trust issues.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Can we go to sleep now?”

  “One more thing.”

  “What?” he asked, spooning up to me and pulling me close.

  “Bryce mentioned a Gaelic term that sort of struck a chord. I’d like to learn more about it.”

  “He seemed like a nice guy, when you can make out what he’s saying.”

  “I felt like I was back in the UK.”

  “We’ll ask him to speak verra slowly.”

  “I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”

  “Come and keep me warm, my wee laddie.”

  He kissed away my laughter, and I scooted closer, snuggling in for the night.

  Chapter 19

  Sometime in the middle of the night I got up to use the bathroom. The mild pain on my shoulder reminded me of what had transpired earlier, and the memory of Trent saying he loved me acted like a balm over the cuts inflicted yesterday, real and imagined. Now I was certain our relationship was more than a contest of wills, and I was satisfied we could work out a system where we’d both get what we needed without going to extremes.