by Jodi Payne
“I—” Sam cleared his throat, licked his lips. “I hear you, Sir. I hear you.” Then he blew out a sharp breath, sucked one in.
“Good boy. Make sure I hear you. Steady now.” He took another breath and laid down four strokes in a row, two to Sam’s shoulders and two more to his rosy ass, listening to his boy carefully.
The first two counts were clear, the third one husky, and the fourth one almost inaudible, Sam’s hips curling in before rolling out.
He tucked his flogger under his arm, stepped up close behind the boy, and rested his hands on Sam’s hips. “Breathe. If I can’t hear you, you’re not breathing.” That wasn’t always the case, of course, but he wanted his boy to hear his voice, and even he needed to remind himself to breathe from time to time.
“Good—good timing.” Sam moaned for him, arching like a cat under his hands. “God, your hands. I was fixin’ to—”
He slid his hands around to Sam’s stomach, stepping even closer. “Which one? Yellow or revolver?” It was good to know he was reading his boy well. It was so important to get that right, if nothing else, in case his boy ever let things go a step too far and couldn’t articulate that. They both had learning to do.
Sam’s groan was pure, unadulterated pleasure, his boy snuggling into him, rubbing them together. “Yellow. I just needed to breathe a second, needed you a second.”
“Good boy. I’m here. Tell me how you like my flogger.” Someday he’d be able to ask how his boy liked his arm, but that was a step deeper than his boy was ready for yet. James had only gotten to the point of being able to read his state of mind by how he was hitting a year or so ago. Sam would figure it out faster, he knew. The boy was just more in tune with those things.
But James had been very quick to figure out the power exchange dynamic. It had been apparent to his former sub right away. Thomas had a feeling that it would take Sam much longer to realize—or at least to use—his own power and leverage.
“Mmm…it stings more, but the burn after is…deeper. It’s harder to, I don’t know, not ignore, but it’s more than the paddle.”
“A flogger isn’t one hit; it’s many at once. It’s more specific and longer lasting than a simple flat paddle. There are more complicated paddles, of course. Good boy. I’m pleased by how you’re processing.” He dropped a light kiss at the base of his boy’s neck and stepped away again. “You’re stunning like this. You color up beautifully.”
He got hold of the flogger again and ran his fingers through the falls, swung it in the air. “You called the time-out. You will let me know when you are ready to begin again.”
Sam wiggled and settled himself—it wasn’t quite bracing himself for the flogger, but it was more than standing.
Thomas didn’t mind waiting. Patience was a huge part of his responsibility to his sub. Sam hadn’t turned down his flogger, and that by itself was exciting to him, energizing.
While he was waiting, he gave the instrument some thought. Four was plenty in a row the last round, and now Sam’s skin was buzzing. He wouldn’t get four again. But he’d get two, and maybe he could get two out of his last one. His fingers itched to use the more advanced flogger, but he had to be careful not to push Sam too far.
“Are your hands getting heavy, boy? You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable.”
“Good idea.” Sam leaned, braced his upper arms against the wall, and stretched. “Oh…damn, that feels…oh…” That sound was pure sex. “I’m ready for you.”
Sir.
He thought it, but he let it go, remembering what Clint had said about redefining convention. His boy was absolutely obedient, and squarely in the right place with his intention.
He grinned, glad Sam couldn’t see him. The boy was also hot as hell right now, and part of him was ready to just toss the flogger and get on with it.
“Very good. Count, boy.” He allowed his need into his voice. He wanted the boy to know. Just two and he’d see what was next for them. He eyed Sam’s back, intending to make these two count, raised his arm, and swung. His breath caught as he watched the neat red welts rise for a second and fade almost as quickly, leaving hot skin behind.
Sam panted, muscles rippling, moving like water. It made Thomas’s mouth dry, the way he could see proof of Sam’s response. The little motions never stopped, offered to him. “Jesus, I’m on fucking fire for you, Sir.”
“Yes, my own. Patience, soon you’ll get your reward.” And he would have his. His cock was trying to tear a hole in his jeans.
But Sam wasn’t asking for a break. The boy’s words were still crystal clear, and that sent lightning up his spine.
Thomas marched toward his boy, dropped the flogger that was in his fingers, and picked up the heavy one, its black and white falls plentiful and narrow. The handle in this one was weighted, balanced to help it land exactly where and how he intended. He slid a hand down Sam’s side, a second of comfort, and moved behind him, at arm’s length one final time.
“You asked me earlier how you could know my needs. I need this, boy, and I believe you’re ready. I believe you might need it as well.” He took a deep breath, watching his words reflected in the set of Sam’s shoulders. “Breathe. Just two and you’ll have what you want…what you need from me.”
“Yes, Sir.” The words were rough and raw, gravelly and aching with need—their hunger. Sam took a deep breath, held it a long second, then let it out.
“Good boy.” His words were so quiet he wasn’t sure himself if he’d even said them out loud. He gave the flogger one more test swing, but he didn’t want to make Sam wait. He lifted his arm and brought it down twice, first on his boy’s left shoulder, then his right, the effort making him grunt.
Once again, he watched the welts rise, only these didn’t fade right away. These wouldn’t fade for a day at least.
“Oh, fuck!” Sam’s hoarse cry made Thomas’s balls draw up tight, the pure, honest hunger in the sound meant for him and him alone. “Please. Help me.”
He was already moving, reaching for Sam to steady him. “Right here, sweetheart. I’m here.” He lifted his boy right into his arms and carried him to bed, then helped Sam to stretch out on his stomach. The boy’s back needed care and was too sensitive for sheets.
He shucked his jeans and briefs, taking a rubber out of one pocket before tossing the jeans to the floor. “So proud, my own. Fuck, I want you.”
Sam arched, hips rolling up in an offer old as time. The movement made Sam shiver, hands fisting in the sheets. “Sir. Yours. Need you like breathing.”
His fingers were shaking as he forced himself to breathe and carefully remove Sam’s plug, but that was the very end of his patience. Those gorgeous red welts covering straining muscle almost pushed him over, but as he took hold of his boy and sank in deep, he knew on their own they could never be enough.
“My boy. Sam! Oh, fuck.” He didn’t have restraint, just raw need, but he gave it to his boy without a second’s hesitation.
Sam took his need and fed it back, meeting his thrusts, slamming toward him. His boy was a flame underneath him, threatening to set them both off.
They rocked together until he didn’t exist anymore. His need was Sam’s; his purpose was his boy. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He took Sam’s cock in his hand, worked it through a tight fist and growled the word, “Mine.”
“Gonna. Yours. Please.” Sam’s body rippled around him, muscles gripping him so hard he could barely breathe.
Thank fucking God. He should technically have given permission but he couldn’t get air in, let alone words out.
The strength of Sam’s climax forced a cry from him, and he froze, arched over the boy’s back as he came in searing, blinding waves.
He was lost. Flying. His blood roared in his ears, and tremors rocked them both as the haze of need slowly lifted. Finally, when the room came back to him and he could breathe again, Thomas dropped a kiss to Sam’s nape, grunting as that little connection caused Sam to clench around him.
/>
“Fuck, babe.” He shifted and rolled, stretching out along Sam’s side. Jesus. He was completely wiped out, but he needed to get some ointment on his boy’s skin, and he had to stay focused on whatever else Sam might need from him.
He kissed the edge of Sam’s shoulder and reached up to carefully take the cuffs off his boy, then ran his fingers over Sam’s wrists to make sure they hadn’t chafed or bitten into the skin. They were well made and trustworthy, and apart from sweat and pressure marks from the weight of the chain, the boy was fine.
He sighed, annoyed with himself for not thinking to bring his aftercare kit from the playroom as well. “I’ll be right back, boy. I won’t be far. I will hear you if you call for me.”
Who knew if Sam would, but the extra assurance wouldn’t hurt in any case.
He slid out of bed, shaking his head, thinking that would help clear his mind, but it didn’t. He washed up and went to get his kit, trying to understand this strange headspace. He felt relaxed and sated like a lover but proud and protective like a Dom. These things hadn’t coexisted with James, and he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to process that.
With James, when a scene in his playroom was over, they were just Thomas and James. Their roles in that room, he realized now, had been play, and they fell away that easily. He didn’t regret that. Those scenes almost always ended with kisses and thank-yous and beautiful, affectionate moments between lovers.
He made his way back to the bedroom and looked Sam over, realizing at last what made them so different.
Sam—his boy, his lover, his friend—lay in his bed. In their bed. It had become a place where everything they were together was welcome. The strange feeling in his mind was the place where the clarity of his role as Sam’s Dom and the desire of his role as Sam’s lover overlapped.
Then he knew. He knew what this emotional space was called, but he was afraid to look at it head on. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
“Mmm…you okay? You look a little dazed.” Sam would know; his boy looked utterly blissed out.
“I am. Fine and dazed. I feel fantastic.” A little raw mentally, but physically everything was better than right. He pulled the ointment he’d been looking for out of his kit. “Your back needs a little attention, sweetheart. How do you feel?”
“You ever been outside after a hard, heavy rain? It’s like that.” Sam had to work so hard to express his emotions, like he’d never been taught how.
He knew exactly what Sam was saying, though. Maybe it was telling that he didn’t seem to have words for that either right now. “I like that smell in the air after a hard rain.”
Damn. That wasn’t going to help Sam connect the dots.
“Yes. The way that you can breathe too. You got a way of driving the storms out.”
Oh. He smiled. “That’s beautiful. Thank you, sweetheart.” He very gingerly spread on the ointment, mostly just covering the spots where the skin was angry or weeping. It had a nice anesthetic in it, so it should cool the sting for a while. “I’m sorry I didn’t take your cuffs off right away. I’m so conditioned…you said ‘help.’ I didn’t hear a safe word. I’ll be more attentive next time.”
Sam chuckled softly, fingers dragging on his thigh. “I needed you so bad, I was fixin’ to scream. I didn’t even notice the cuffs.” Sam’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Except they helped me a little. I wanted to jack off then, but your hand…God, so much better.”
“So much better. And truthfully, I liked seeing them on you anyway.” He finished up. Sam was in fine shape, and this probably wouldn’t even hurt tomorrow. But the skin was going to pull like hell at work later. “I need a kiss, sweetheart.”
“Oh, yes, Sir.” Sam pushed right into him, laughing as their lips met. Sam kissed him like there was nothing else on earth he would rather do than hold Thomas, give himself over wholeheartedly.
He laughed at first too, Sam’s happiness spilling over, but then a sudden, deep ache seized in his chest and he found himself clinging to Sam, that kiss like an anchor, like if it let go he’d just be lost.
Sam held on tight, hands smoothing over his skin, fingers digging in and finding his sore spots. Comforting him. Loving him.
Breathe. Just fucking breathe.
He sighed and rested his forehead against Sam’s. He felt like he should apologize, but that would make what Sam was doing seem like pity, and it wasn’t. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but Sam wasn’t feeling sorry for him, Sam wasn’t thinking about James or Texas or vengeance or anything but them together. He owed that to Sam as well. “Thank you.” There was more, but that was the best he could do at the moment.
“Yes. Thank you too. God, you’re beautiful to me.” Sam kissed him, every few words. It would all seem an affectation, but the honesty, the sincerity rang from Sam.
He returned the kisses and just let himself believe it because it was exactly what he needed to hear. “I’m just so…relieved. Grateful that—” He swallowed and shook his head, then leaned back and tried to give Sam a smile. “You have to go to work soon. You should get some rest.”
“I do, but if you don’t mind company, I’ll just love on you a while. I’m happy as a dog with two tails.”
“I definitely want the company. I’ll take every second I can get.” He tilted his head, searching Sam’s eyes. “I’m happy too.”
“Good. It would suck if you were all grr…argh…orgasms.” Sam’s joy shone from him.
Thomas laughed, which actually felt pretty good. “I am very pro orgasms. I could have them all day. Would you like another?” He grinned back, eyebrows waggling.
Sam cackled. “Lord, I think my balls are empty. That was…whoa.”
“You were stunning, Sam. You don’t…things are new to you, that’s obvious, but you don’t behave as though you’re new to this. You didn’t seem nervous. You’re curious in such a genuine way.”
“If I get nervous, it’ll be in the middle of the night at work when it’s dead. I’ll have hours to stress whether I’m doing all this right.” Sam dropped him a wink before his expression got serious. “I believe in you. You said I just had to be honest, so I’m doing my best.”
“You can’t do it wrong. You and I are reinventing what’s right. It’s…liberating. And terrifying.”
“Well, sure. That makes sense. You got all this pressure on your shoulders, all this expectation.”
“Mm. Right. Pressure and expectation. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? I think you might be projecting a bit there, stud.” He grinned so it didn’t seem unkind. But Sam had been the poster child for trying to make everyone happy. He did feel some pressure, but only from himself. He had a sub to take care of. “I’m just trying to be a…a good person.” If nothing else, he could at least say that.
Sam nodded to him, so serious. “I hear you.”
He nodded back and took one of Sam’s hands in his. “How the hell are we ever going to top this afternoon?”
“Well, honey.” Sam grinned at him, lips drawing up. “There’s always Google.”
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BA & Jodi
THE COWBOY AND THE DOM
Book Two: Razor’s Edge
Razor blades left by a murderer remind Sam and Thomas of James, the man they lost to violence…and that his killer is still out there, always watching them, biding his time.
Their carefully built relationship also teeters on the edge of a knife. Sam’s efforts to be a full-time sub to Thomas fail time and again, and Thomas must learn to accept the fact that Sam isn’t James, but a different man with different needs. Through jealousy, confusion, arguments, and stress, they struggle to reconcile their massive differences and learn what it means to be a them.
But a misunderstanding might be the last straw—or the opportunity the killer has been waiting for to take Sam out of Thomas’s life once and for all.
COMING JANUARY 2020
Razor’s Edge: Chapter One
“You want a ride home, little Sammy?” Angel looked tired, a little grumpy.
Sam got it. It was four in the morning and no one liked that time—just getting up or getting off work.
“You going that way? Toward Thomas’s, I mean.”
The big man looked over at him slowly, fingers combing his beard. “Thomas’s? At this hour?”
“Yessir. We cleaned out James’s place. It was time.” His late brother’s apartment had been hanging over the two of them for too long. They’d cleaned it out, then he’d moved in with Thomas. Crawling into bed with his lover was amazing. A lot of things he was learning these days were pretty fucking amazing. Hell, he could feel Thomas with him, feel the sweet sting of his Dom’s stripes right across his shoulders. It was proof they weren’t alone, either of them.
“What, really? Thomas was really ready to do that? You need a place to stay, I got an extra room.”
“That’s kind as all get-out. Seriously. But I’m okay.” Oh, maybe it was supposed to be a secret. Thomas had said it was important to him, to keep things where they belonged. God, he needed to keep his fucking mouth shut. “I-I think I’m going to go take myself to breakfast, man, get some reading done, but thanks.”
