Authors: Vj Summers
Birthday Licks (4 page)
When it did, when the jerking stopped, when his balls were
aching and wrung dry, the noise in his head went silent. The colors behind his
eyes faded to soft pastel.
Thomas’ arms were still wrapped around him, pulling Ryan
tight against his body. One rough, callused hand stroked over him, throat to
chest to groin, smearing Ryan’s cum over his skin with lazy motions. When the
Dom stroked Ryan’s spent cock, his entire body jolted, too much, too sensitive.
Thomas merely cupped the slick flesh, hand warm and firm and not about to be
denied.
He didn’t know how long they lay there, Thomas stroking,
petting, Ryan breathing raggedly. He did know that when Thomas reached down to
hold the condom in place and slipped free of his body, it felt as if the other
man was pulling a good bit of Ryan’s soul with him.
“Stay,” the Dom murmured, easing Ryan down to lie on his
side. He rose to his knees and rummaged in a drawer Ryan hadn’t noticed and
came back with a package of pre-moistened wipes and a tube of Tiger Balm.
“Aftercare,” he explained and began to clean Ryan with firm
but somehow gentle touches. Then he stroked the balm over the flaming curves of
Ryan’s ass. When he’d finished, he rested one hand on the small of Ryan’s back,
a gesture so unconsciously possessive that Ryan felt his exhausted cock give a
weak throb in time with his skipping heart.
“Sir,” Ryan started, not sure what exactly he intended to
say, to ask. It didn’t matter, though, because Thomas didn’t let him finish.
“This was a scene, boy.” He pushed up to kneel, removing his
hand from Ryan’s back so he could pull briefs and jeans into place. He tucked
himself in as he spoke, fastened zipper and button, fastened his belt with a
jingle of metal.
“It was an intense scene, and it was your first scene, which
makes it doubly so. Don’t make it more than it is.”
The breath burned in his chest. Ryan knew what Thomas was
saying, and knew that, for him at least, the words were far too little, too
late. Still he managed to whisper, “Don’t get attached.”
“That’s right, boy. Don’t get attached.”
Warm hands guided Ryan up, pausing when he was kneeling to
make sure he was steady. The care in Thomas’ touch was so diametrically opposed
to the distance in his words that it made Ryan dizzy.
“Get dressed, beautiful. Then drink a bottle of water or
three. Then go home and sleep.” Thomas stood, and it took every bit of
self-control Ryan had to keep from flinging himself at the man, clutching his legs
and wrapping around him and begging him not to go.
“Think about this in the morning, with a clear head. Decide
if it worked for you. Find Doms to play with. The Mask’s a safe place for
that.” Dark eyes surveyed the club, which had receded so far in Ryan’s
awareness that it was more than a little startling to realize they weren’t
alone. Other men were watching them, appreciation and lust clear on their
faces, approval in their low voices.
The sudden plunge into reality, the clear message that
Thomas was done with him, left him feeling more naked and vulnerable than he
had draped ass-up over the Dom’s lap. His hands were clumsy, his body not quite
working right as he reached for his clothes, still following Thomas’
directions, even when they widened the gulf he felt growing between them.
Thomas watched him quietly, expression detached, as Ryan
fumbled into his clothes, then reached up and brushed the hair from his eyes.
Ryan tried, without much success, to suppress the shiver that rippled through
him at Thomas’ touch.
“Happy Birthday, beautiful.” The Dom leaned closer, pressed
a gentle, almost tender kiss on his forehead. “I hope it was everything you
were looking for.”
“Everything,” he whispered. “More.”
Thomas nodded, eyes dark and inscrutable. With a final
stroke of his fingers through Ryan’s hair and a faint, crooked smile, he turned
and walked away.
He didn’t look back.
Make a Wish
Ryan leaned back against the bar, silently surveying the
decadence that was Friday night at The Iron Mask. This time, the blatant
displays of Domination and submission, even of sadomasochism, didn’t unnerve
him. What unnerved him was his own yearning, not because he wanted to be
Dominated, but because he wanted to be Dominated by one particular Master.
Not a “Sir”. A Master.
He’d done as Thomas instructed, mostly. He’d gone home and
slept, and then he’d thought about things. He’d thought about the snap and bite
in Thomas’ voice when Ryan had failed to follow directions quickly enough. He’d
thought about the crack of fire with each blow of Thomas’ hand across his ass.
He’d thought, almost incessantly, about the weight of Thomas
against his back, the stretch of that thick, curved cock in his mouth, in his
ass, stretching him wide and spearing him deep, and thought he’d spontaneously
combust. He hadn’t jerked off this much since he’d first realized what his dick
was for.
He’d thought about playing with other Doms, and it left him
cold.
He didn’t particularly expect Thomas to be here tonight.
Tristan had said he’d never seen the man before, and Tris spent most weekends
at The Mask. Still, Ryan couldn’t help but hope.
There were other Sirs to be had, he told himself. If Thomas
didn’t show up, Ryan knew he could find someone to help him explore the dark
room in his soul that Thomas had unlocked. If he didn’t want some random
someone, well, he’d get over it in time.
He was folding and refolding a bar napkin in increasingly
tiny squares when he felt it—a zap of electricity that seemed to shoot across
the floor and rock him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He
half expected his hair was standing on end.
Thomas was standing near the entryway, the intermittent
colored lights glinting on his shaggy golden hair. His gaze was locked on Ryan,
and any lie Ryan had told himself about not getting his expectations up, of
finding another Sir, withered away. He didn’t understand it, didn’t have a
grasp on it yet, but with the instinctive knowledge of a wild thing, Ryan knew
that his submission belonged to Thomas. No waffling. No questions.
Thomas didn’t look happy as he crossed the floor toward
Ryan. He didn’t smile or acknowledge any of the greetings he received with more
than an absent nod as he stalked toward Ryan. He also didn’t take his gaze from
Ryan’s face.
He stopped when there were about six feet between them and
raised that eloquent brow.
Ryan drank in the sight of his Master for one more moment.
His body was moving, though. He was standing in front of Thomas before he
realized what he was doing, dropping to his knees with a grace born of hours of
practice during a week of restless, sleepless nights.
Slipping into his display position was like slipping into
his own skin. When Thomas’ hand landed on his head, long fingers threading
through his hair, Ryan swore he heard a click, heard all the pieces falling
into place.
“So much for no attachments.” There was resignation in that
rough-velvet voice, but also humor.
“I can’t say I’m sorry, Master. I’m not.”
Thomas’ breath hitched at the word Master, just enough for
Ryan to hear it, to feel it in the slight movement of Thomas’ hand in his hair.
“I’m not sorry, either, beautiful.” A long, rough sigh. “Not
really.”
Ryan let out a breath. His shoulders relaxed just a
fraction.
“Are you ready to begin?”
“I’m ready, Master.”
So very, very ready.
About VJ Summers
When not working the EDJfH (Evil Day Job from Hell),
obsessing over whether her parents are getting enough to eat, obsessing that
her kid is sexting the boyfriend, making coffee, drinking coffee or feeding the
two cats who allow her to live with them, VJ can be found reading or writing
erotic romance—either solo as m/m author VJ Summers, or as the shorter, more
quiet half of the “Violet Summers” writing team (the tall half is Sierra
Summers).
VJ
loves
to hear from readers!
VJ welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website
and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
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Also by
VJ Summers
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Affairs 3: Daniel’s Surrender
with Sierra Summers
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Print books by VJ Summers
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Corporate
Affairs 2: Meredith’s Awakening
with Sierra Summers
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Birthday Licks
ISBN 9781419942068
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Birthday Licks Copyright © 2012 VJ Summers
Edited by April Chapman
Cover design by Syneca
Photo: Vishstudios/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication December 2012
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