Serving Him

by L. M. Somerton

“So how’s the rich, Dommy dude?”

  “Dude?”

  “He’s from the U.S., isn’t he?”

  “The rich Dommy dude is in London.”

  “Oh, I get it. I only get a call when his highness is elsewhere. Charming.”

  “Sometimes I think I’d get more intelligent conversation out of Bilbo.”

  Ed snorted. “Has he met your bear yet? Hairy, cuddly, in competition for his affection?”

  “Bears are more your type, Ed. And leave Bilbo out of this. I need advice. Dommy dude has offered me a job—and I can’t believe I’m calling him that. He’d whip my arse if he found out.”

  “And you’d enjoy it. Wait…he did what?”

  “Asked me to leave The Retreat and be his personal assistant…amongst other things.” Rowan was glad Ed couldn’t see his smile.

  “You’ve gone all gooey.”

  “Have not!”

  “Have. So, you’re going to take it?”

  “I… Yes, I think so.”

  “You don’t know so? There are far too many rhymes in this conversation, by the way.”

  “It’s a huge decision. Whatever I do, I’ll be letting someone down and I hate that.”

  “Sometimes you have to put yourself first, Row. I know that’s against your religion, but for once be selfish. What do you want?”

  “I want him.” Saying it made it real.

  “There you go, then. Simple.”

  “Is it though? It’s a job, not a relationship.”

  “Have you asked him that?” Ed snickered. “Of course you haven’t. I think you need to talk to him. If he’s as good a Dom as you say, he’ll want to know what’s worrying you, won’t he?”

  “’Spose,” Rowan mumbled, knowing Ed was right.

  “Uh-huh. Listen to Uncle Ed, for he is wise and all-knowing. I want to meet this bloke that has you all tied up in knots. He needs my seal of approval.”

  “You sound like Rory.” Rowan pummeled a pillow, releasing some pent-up frustration.

  “She and I have a date tomorrow for fish and chips.” Ed smacked his lips together.

  “Are you replacing me with my aunt?” Rowan whined.

  “No, just making sure our mutual interests are discussed. That’s you, by the way.”

  “Oh my God. I’m going. I’m psychologically scarred by the idea of my best friend and my aunt discussing my love life. I hope you’re happy.”

  “Ecstatic. Ring me tomorrow with an update, ’kay?”

  “If I can. Bye, Ed.”

  Rowan pulled the covers up and snuggled beneath them, hugging Bilbo close. The events of the day had caught up with him and he drifted into a doze, though sleep proved to be impossible. There were far too many thoughts and worries whirling around in his head and it was still several hours until Lorcan’s return. He tried counting sheep but his mind managed to turn them into fanged, woolly mutants with glowing red eyes. Squeezing his eyes tight shut didn’t help either and his nagging headache wouldn’t go away. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Utterly miserable, he wished the time would pass quicker. He needed to confess his knowledge about Lorcan’s past and make a final decision about his own future. Until then, peace of mind would remain out of reach.

  * * * *

  Lorcan got back into The Retreat just after midnight. He was surprised to find Luke waiting for him in the hall.

  “I hope you had a good evening,” Luke said. “I wanted to be here to reassure you that Rowan is okay. He had dinner with me and the kitchen staff. He was a little subdued and I suspect suffering from a headache, but he ate well and chatted with everyone. He went up to the Blue Room after the meal.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I have to admit I spent most of my evening thinking about him and my friends noticed how distracted I was, hence the relatively early return. I just wanted to get back to him. I should be here taking care of him.”

  Luke nodded. “I understand. There’s something else you should know. Rowan spent some time on the computer this afternoon—he was researching.”

  Lorcan didn’t need Luke to tell him what Rowan had been curious about. “My past.”

  Luke nodded.

  “I should have been open with him from the start. He experienced the long-term effects of what happened to me firsthand. I can understand him being curious about what must’ve happened to give me nightmares.” He sighed. “I didn’t forbid him to use the computer. I just wish I’d had the courage to tell him before he found out for himself. The full details aren’t in the news reports. He must be wondering exactly what happened.”

  “I’d suggest it’s time for the two of you to have an open conversation. I suspect he’s conflicted about the job you’ve offered him because he doesn’t want to let Mr. Hoffman down. I think I have a solution for that. I spoke to Carey earlier this evening and suggested that Rowan remains an employee of The Retreat.”

  “But…”

  “Hear me out,” Luke said. “He will remain an employee under contract, but be attached to you in the same capacity he has been here. That will give him security and take away the personal element of the agreement. He wants a relationship, not just a job. He needs to submit to you and this solution will remove some conflict of interest. The two of you will have the time you need to get to know each other better but it will remove the pressure he’s feeling to make a decision too quickly.”

  Lorcan thought for a few minutes, pacing the hall, running the idea through his head.

  “It’s perfect. The ideal solution. I’ve never been in love so I’m not sure what I’m feeling. It must be the same for him. Here at The Retreat, reality is suspended and it’s hard to think long-term.” He extended a hand, which Luke shook. “Thank you, Luke. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He thought he detected a hint of color on Luke’s cheeks, but the light wasn’t bright enough to be sure.

  “Go to him. I doubt he’s asleep.”

  Lorcan jogged up the stairs. He paused outside the door to the Blue Room, taking a couple of deep breaths before going inside. A single lamp provided light, the dim glow casting a shadow across one side of Rowan’s face. A glint of blue gave his wakefulness away.

  As soon as Lorcan pushed the door closed, Rowan slipped from the bed to his knees. The metal cage around his cock caught Lorcan’s eye. Tracking his gaze, Rowan’s hand strayed to his groin.

  “You never left me, Sir.”

  “Come here, Rowan.” Once Rowan was on his feet, Lorcan pulled him close. He cupped his neck with one hand, his ass with the other, then kissed him—gently at first then with increasing aggression. He was hard and the need to possess Rowan’s body almost overwhelmed him.

  “Get back into bed.”

  While Rowan slipped beneath the covers, Lorcan stripped. He joined Rowan in bed, so close that skin touched skin from hip to shoulder. He entwined their fingers.

  “You want to know what happened to me?”

  Rowan stiffened. “You know?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “Please don’t be mad.” Rowan spoke in a whisper.

  “I’m not angry, not with you. With myself—definitely. I should have been honest from the start about the cause of the nightmares.”

  Rowan moved to rest his head on Lorcan’s shoulder. Lorcan nuzzled his hair, breathing in his scent.

  “When you asked me how I knew I was a Dominant, I told you the truth. What I didn’t explain was how much inner turmoil I went through to accept it. Can you imagine how it felt to want to do things to another man that had been done to me by force? How the hell could I ever expect to tie a man up, make him helpless, beat him, hold him down and fuck him…?” His voice trailed off. He’d told Rowan more than he’d told anyone since signing his statement for the police.

  “It’s not the same thing. Not even in the same universe.” Rowan’s breath hitched. “Consent. Everything you do to me, you do because I allow it. Want it. Need it.”

  “I
know…but it took me a long time and a lot of therapy to understand and I still…still can’t get those bastards out of my head.”

  “I’ll help you, Sir.”

  “You already have. More than you know.”

  “I want to come with you when you leave, Sir.” Rowan rolled over, straddling Lorcan’s body. He knelt, making eye contact. Lorcan could detect no doubt in his eyes. He rose, positioning himself over Lorcan’s erection.

  “Wait. We need lube.” Lorcan gripped Rowan’s hips.

  “I made sure I was ready for you, Sir.”

  For once, Lorcan allowed Rowan to take control. The warmth and grip of his channel was like coming home.

  “Take the key from around my neck,” Lorcan said. “You can remove the cage.” He kept as still as he could while Rowan fiddled with the lock. As soon as he was free, his cock stiffened.

  “Need to come so bad, Sir.” Rowan began to rise and fall, fucking himself. He reached for his dick but Lorcan knocked his hand away.

  “That’s mine.” One brief tug was all it took for Rowan to come all over Lorcan’s hand and belly. He wailed, tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut. Watching his reaction was enough to push Lorcan toward his own orgasm. He thrust into Rowan’s body, claiming him with his release. Then, for a while, the only sound was a combination of gasping breaths.

  Lorcan pulled Rowan onto his chest, sealing them together. Exhaustion and relief combined to push him into sleep moments after Rowan’s gentle snores vibrated through his body.

  Epilogue

  Rowan sat up in bed, propped against a pile of pillows, Lorcan’s computer open in his lap. Lorcan emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair and sending a spray of droplets everywhere. Rowan treated himself to a blatant examination of his Dom’s naked form. He licked his lips. Lorcan’s lean muscles and well-defined abs were an inspiration and, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Lorcan had already taken him twice that morning, he would definitely have been hard. As it was, Rowan’s dick barely managed to twitch. He shifted, grateful for the well-sprung mattress cushioning his behind. Lorcan had been particularly enthusiastic about delivering his morning discipline. It had been a treat to stay in bed while Lorcan went to the gym, though he had made a trip to the bathroom. After scrubbing his sticky skin, he’d changed the bed and luxuriated in the scent of clean sheets until Lorcan returned.

  “Are you looking at those property details again?”

  “Yes, Sir. I can’t believe they accepted your offer so quickly.”

  “It will still be a few weeks before we can move in, but we will make another visit soon to measure up and start ordering some furniture. The cellar will make the most amazing dungeon.”

  “Considering how much time we spent in the one here over the last few days, you should have plenty of ideas.”

  “It was inspiring.” Lorcan stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head. “I can’t believe my four weeks here ends today. The Retreat has come to feel like home.”

  “The time’s gone so fast. I’m a little scared about re-joining the real world, Sir.” Rowan closed the computer and put it to one side. He snuggled close to Lorcan and was rewarded with a kiss and hug.

  “You have absolutely nothing to be afraid of because you will be with me.” Lorcan grinned. “And I won’t be letting you out of my sight.”

  “Mr. Hoffman’s flat is really close to The Underground. We are so lucky that one of his properties became available just at the time we needed it.”

  “Fate. Just like you and me. It was meant to be.”

  Lorcan patted his arse, making Rowan giggle.

  “And we’ll definitely be paying regular visits to the club. It’s about time I got my money’s worth out of my membership.”

  “I met some other subs when I was there for my interview. It will be good to have friends to talk to.”

  “You can always talk to me… Or Bilbo.” Lorcan chuckled.

  “Don’t tease me, Sir. You weren’t meant to find out about him.”

  “I’ll let you into a secret. I have a partly chewed plush bunny back in San Francisco.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. So I’m in no position to make fun of you. And I think it will be great if you have friends at the club, so long as they don’t lead you astray.”

  Rowan pictured Olly in his head. “I’ll be good, Sir. I promise.”

  “I almost hope you won’t be. Punishments are fun.”

  “For you, Sir.” Rowan rolled his eyes then gasped as Lorcan gripped his dick with a warm hand, stroking him to hardness. When Lorcan let go and slipped out of bed, Rowan pouted, but he didn’t have to wait long for Lorcan to return carrying three strips of worn leather.

  “I’ve had this collar and cuffs for a long time. They are worn because I used to put them on myself. For years after what happened, I had to train myself to tolerate the touch of leather on my skin. They used their belts, you see. I couldn’t let them win, so at home, in private I wore these all the time hoping that one day I’d be able to put them on someone else.”

  He buckled the supple leather cuffs around Rowan’s wrists before slipping the collar around his neck and once it was fastened, his attention returned to Rowan’s rigid shaft.

  “It’s an honor that you wear them for me.”

  Rowan had no words. His eyes filled with tears. He pushed into Lorcan’s fist, desperate for friction. When he came, the dam of his emotions broke and he sobbed, overcome by the joy of the moment.

  “It’s my honor to serve you, Sir.”

  “And mine to be served. You gave me back the future, Rowan. And I can’t wait for us to explore it together.” Lorcan nudged his knees apart. “And before we have to face our farewell breakfast, I feel the need to explore your body a bit more.”

  “I don’t think there’s a single inch left for you to discover, Sir.”

  “Best to be sure, though.” Lorcan thrust inside him in one smooth movement, claiming him. Coherent thought was no longer a possibility. Rowan focused on his body, on sensation, and let his Master take control.

  Also available from Pride Publishing:

  Owned by the Sea

  L.M. Somerton

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Jonty stood on the swaying deck and took a last, longing glance at the shore. His stomach was already heaving and the Caroline, named after his mother, had only just left the shelter of the bay. The next three days at sea were going to be torment. He hated the annual family ritual that took him away from his painting, but his father insisted on it and, at twenty-five, Jonty still hadn’t found the courage to refuse him. Rex Trelawn, who headed a private bank when he wasn’t torturing his son, had given up on Jonty ever being a ‘proper’ sailor, so Jonty was consigned to the galley with orders to keep the rest of the family fed and watered. He dealt with supplies, stocked the cupboards and made sure the boat was ready for a short sea voyage. He was also responsible for reporting their position to the coastguard at regular intervals, which he managed between visits to the head where his stomach contents insisted on making unwelcome reappearances.

  The Caroline was a forty-six footer and manageable with a crew of four. She was just big enough that Jonty could avoid his father for some, if not all, of the trip. Rex always took the wheel while Jonty’s mother and younger sister, Evie, managed ropes and sails with ease. Evie had a sturdy build and relished the challenges of sailing while Jonty favored his recently deceased grandfather, being slight and less than average height. They were a small family, just the four of them, and Jonty found it impossible to refuse the one outing of the year that brought them all together, much as he wanted to. Three days battling his father’s disappointment was not his idea of a fun time.

  Jonty slipped below deck to the narrow, claustrophobic galley and began preparations for a light supper. Soup and bread, fruitcake and hot chocolate would suffice—not that he’d be able to eat any of it himself. Just the idea of food made his stomach flip ov
er. The four of them would take breaks and sleep in shifts, sailing out past Land’s End and into the Atlantic during the night. It would be something of an endurance test but Jonty could cope with that. He kept strange hours when he painted, sometimes forgetting to sleep.

  His father was first to descend into the cabin, brushing a hand through his windswept silver hair. He shed his waterproofs, hanging them on a peg before taking a seat at the table.

  “Wind’s getting up, Jonathon. Be sure to check the shipping forecast later.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jonty didn’t need the reminder, but said nothing. He ladled soup into a bowl then placed it in front of his father.

  “Not eating?” The usual note of disapproval colored Rex Trelawn’s tone.

  “No.” Jonty didn’t expand. His father knew full well that Jonty got seasick every time he sailed.

  “Come and join me.”

  Jonty held back a sigh. He wasn’t feeling up to defending himself yet again.

  “Shaw tells me your earnings are exceptional for such a young artist. He wants more work from you.”

  The sigh escaped. “Shaw has no business discussing my finances with you. He’s my agent, not yours.”

  “I hope you’re investing well?” Rex waved a soup spoon at him, ignoring Jonty’s objection. “I’ll have to put the rent up on Cliff House.”

  Jonty’s family, including his sister who was studying at King’s College, resided in London. Jonty chose to live at the family’s second home in Cornwall where the pure light was perfect for painting. He needed a place of his own where he could cut another tie to his domineering father but somehow he’d never gotten around to house hunting. He didn’t rise to Rex’s taunt. Housing discussions were preferable to those that questioned his ‘dubious lifestyle choices’. Rex Trelawn had never quite accepted his son’s sexual orientation and it was a topic best avoided. When Jonty came out at eighteen, Evie had shrugged, his mother had wept for a while then refreshed her makeup, hugged him then commenced trawling her copious address book for prospective boyfriends. Rex had given him the silent treatment for months until Jonty’s first gallery showing had sold out. He’d proved to have some worth, so they’d reached a truce of sorts.