Chapter Fourteen
VINCENT GRABBED his suit jacket and locked up his office.
Jasper’s annoyance as they headed out of the club was as tangible as water, roiling off him in waves.
Considering how this weekend had started, Vincent couldn’t say he was surprised by the arrival of a new problem.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about the phone call.
And he apparently wasn’t worn out enough to keep his mouth shut and let it go for now.
“Friend of yours?” he asked, once they were settled in the back of the car.
“No,” Jasper replied tightly, slumping into the seat.
Vincent stifled a sigh and let Jasper brood in silence for a few minutes.
Once they were on the highway, he tried again.
“Ex, then?” he guessed, staring out his window.
“Do you want me to make his life a living hell?” He watched the reflection of Jasper’s head turn quickly and fought back a snicker. At least that got a reaction.
“What? No. I don’t want anything to do with him anymore,” Jasper muttered, sighing as he crossed his arms and slumped even more.
So it was an ex. Vincent turned enough to study Jasper directly.
“What?” Jasper asked, voice sharp. “Sir,” he added, like it was a challenge. He glared hard enough Vincent expected his eyes to pop out. He pressed his lips into a thin line, but the silent “Fuck off” was clear.
“You have thirty seconds to convince me not to cancel this weekend.”
Jasper somehow glared harder. A few seconds before Vincent’s mental countdown ended, he finally turned away and spoke. “I don’t want to talk about someone who used to fuck me with the guy who’s currently fucking me.”
“Okay,” Vincent replied slowly. That was fair. “So why are you pissed at me?”
“I’m not…,” Jasper started. He blinked and visibly deflated. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad that he called me after four months to say he missed me.”
“And you don’t miss him?”
Jasper let out a sharp laugh. “He tried to roofie me, so no.”
Vincent bit back a snarl and a demand to know the bastard’s name. “I could still make his life hell, you know.”
Jasper snorted, the rest of the tension easing out of him. He slid across to the middle seat and leaned into Vincent’s side. “No, don’t bother. Please just take me home. I’ve been waiting to see you all week.”
Vincent sighed and forced his attention to where it belonged, resting a hand on Jasper’s thigh. “Because you want to get off?”
“No,” Jasper said, gnawing on Vincent’s arm. “Because I missed your winning personality, obviously.”
Vincent dug his fingers in with a long-suffering sigh, though he was too tired to make threats he had no intention of keeping. “Right back at you.”
Jasper grinned, lifting his leg to drape it over Vincent’s lap. He somehow pressed even closer and rested his head on Vincent’s shoulder.
The rest of the short ride passed in silence, and it was nearing two in the morning when they finally trudged up the stairs to the bedroom.
Vincent took a pair of sweats and a shirt to his en suite to change. When he returned to the bedroom, Jasper was already in bed. Which was something he could too easily get used to.
“Night,” Jasper murmured, curling into Vincent.
Vincent buried his fingers in Jasper’s hair. “Good night, pet.”
Despite his exhaustion, sleep did not come easily, and it wasn’t restful when it did. His nightmares had eased off the last few years, but particularly stressful days were usually all the excuse they needed to revisit.
The silver lining was that they were always the same.
So when he woke, gasping for air, with phantom pain crushing his chest and smoke in his lungs, there was only tired resignation left behind.
He stared at the ceiling for several long minutes, waiting for his heartbeat to slow.
The warmth of Jasper’s body and the steady rhythm of his breathing was as unfamiliar as it was comforting, but it did nothing to lull him back to sleep.
With a sigh he finally slipped out of bed. The clock showed it was after five, at least, though that still added up to only a few hours of sleep. He knew from experience he wouldn’t be getting more, so he took a shower, letting the tepid water beat into his skin.
He pressed his thumb against the jagged white scar on his right arm. It connected his shoulder to his elbow in the shape of an amateur’s botched attempt to carve the Nile. A spiderweb of red stretched across his chest, remnants of the fire he could barely remember.
He had the money; he could have at least tried to diminish their appearance, but he kept them as a reminder of the consequences of losing control. The half-dozen scars on his back were a reminder of the price he’d paid for his unhealthy attempt to cope with his pain and desperation.
He finished his shower and pulled his robe on as he slipped back into the bedroom for a fresh pair of sweats.
Jasper was still dead to the world.
Vincent left him sleeping and went downstairs to start the coffee.
Restlessness itched along his senses, so he busied himself with small tasks. Opening the curtains. Emptying the dishwasher. Making a list for the week’s groceries. Starting a load of laundry.
By the time six thirty ticked by, he was on his second cup of coffee and making waffles.
He still wasn’t sure what he’d expected to come of having Jasper at the club, but it wasn’t like he could stop working on all their busiest nights.
Bad enough he intended to take Saturdays off for the foreseeable future.
And with Jasper’s schedule, weekends were their only feasible block of time.
He scrambled some eggs, making sure they were fluffy and cheesy. The waffles came out crisp and golden, and he plopped one on each plate.
Jasper stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing nothing but his boxers, blond hair sticking in all directions. He pressed into Vincent’s side with a yawn. “How do you make even eggs look gourmet?” he grumbled, rubbing his cheek against Vincent’s shoulder.
“Practice,” Vincent replied, dishing out the eggs and handing over a plate.
They ate in a not-quite-awkward silence, and Vincent’s restlessness hadn’t faded by the time they moved to the couch. He tapped his fingers against Jasper’s thigh as he stared out the bay window, not paying the least bit of attention to whatever show Jasper found on TV.
Jasper sighed, covering Vincent’s hand with his own. “What’s wrong?”
Vincent forced his fingers to still, squeezing Jasper’s thigh and rubbing his thumb back and forth instead. “Nothing.”
Jasper snorted. “Liar,” he said, crawling into Vincent’s lap. He straddled Vincent’s thighs, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
The truth was, Vincent wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the nightmare. They didn’t affect him as badly as they used to, and the guilt that came with them was nearly a decade dull.
It might have been the news of Jasper’s ex, but their phone conversation hadn’t sounded promising for their getting back together.
“Sir?”
And that, apparently, was all Vincent needed. The simple reminder that, at least for the moment, Jasper was his. A tension he hadn’t even noticed eased in his chest. The last time Jasper called him that had been in anger, and that was something he should have addressed last night.
Christ, he was out of practice.
“Just tired,” he replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie; the restlessness was already fading like fog beneath sunlight. He caught Jasper’s lips in a quick kiss. “I need some fresh air. Get dressed.”
Jasper eyed him with a pouty frown. He took a breath like he wanted to argue, but he sat back instead, trailing his hands down the front of Vincent’s robe.
Maybe Jasper would have pulled away without trying to get his hands on skin, but Vincent reacted before he could find out. He grabbed Jasper’s wrists suddenly enough to make him jump and gently tugged them away.
Jasper huffed. “Am I ever going to get to see you naked?” he asked dryly, sliding backwards off Vincent’s lap.
“Maybe.” It certainly wasn’t something he planned to address in the next few weeks, though.
“I have time for a shower?” Jasper called from the stairs.
“Sure.” He gave Jasper a minute to get in the shower, then headed up to change.
Maybe he should have mentioned his preference for the total power exchange dynamic before signing a contract, but he hadn’t wanted to scare Jasper off.
Besides, these two months were to see if they were as compatible outside the playroom as they were inside.
If Jasper wasn’t ready to walk away at the end, he could bring up the idea of an official TPE then.
He didn’t bother with a suit, pulling on dark jeans and a long-sleeved shirt instead. He waited at the bottom of the stairs for Jasper, then grabbed his keys and opened the door to the garage when Jasper was ready.
He could have called his driver, but he didn’t have any particular destination in mind. And there was no sense spending money on a sports car if he wasn’t going to use it once in a while.
Vincent closed the door behind them as Jasper hurried around to the passenger side with a grin, running his fingers across the hood. Once they were buckled, he raised an eyebrow at Vincent. “You actually know how to drive?”
“No,” Vincent replied. He backed out of the garage quickly enough that Jasper latched on to the door with something close to a screech.
“You really are a dick,” Jasper grumbled, tightening his seat belt.
Vincent snorted. “I’m sure you were warned about that more than once.” He stopped at the end of the driveway to wait for the garage door to close. He found his sunglasses and slipped them on, then backed into the street at a more reasonable speed.
Jasper settled into his seat, running his fingers over the leather and fiddling with the AC. “So where are we going?”
“Have a suggestion?”
“Not really.” Jasper finally got the vents pointed how he wanted and sat back. “Unless you wanna go to the arcade or something. You could get your ass kicked by the common-class citizens,” he added with a grin.
“Is that your way of saying you think I need my ass kicked?” He wasn’t sure if he was more offended by Jasper apparently seeing him as some high-and-mighty millionaire, or as someone who’d never played a video game.
“Whaaaat? I’d never.”
Vincent shot Jasper an unimpressed look. “That wide-eyed innocent expression isn’t convincing.”
“No? Do I need to flutter my eyelashes more?”
“You expect me to help you become even more of a brat?”
Jasper hmmed, and Vincent could hear the impish smirk in it. “The contract says you’ll provide anything I need for our time together.”
Vincent laughed. Christ. How had Jasper not been scooped up yet?
“Speaking of things you need….” If Jasper was going to be at the club as his sub, he needed to be dressed properly.
“You need a suit.” He would have suggested leather of some kind, but he doubted Jasper would be comfortable in any kind of fetish gear in public. Not yet, anyway.
“Whyyy do I need a suit?”
“Everyone should have at least one.”
Jasper fell silent, and Vincent waited for some kind of protest that didn’t come.
As far as second gifts went, it might have been a little expensive, but it was as much for his benefit as Jasper’s. Maybe more.
Jasper was still oddly silent by the time they parked at a strip mall, but he got out and followed Vincent inside the small suit shop without hesitation.
Vincent watched from the corner of his eye as Jasper pulled a suit sleeve out, checked the price tag, and immediately dropped it and stepped back.
It wasn’t until Vincent picked a suit off the rack and held it out to him that Jasper finally spoke. “I can’t accept this.”
“Then it won’t be yours. You can think of it as another item I’m adding to the playroom.”
Jasper squinted at him, apparently unconvinced, before eyeing the suit like it was a snake. He finally took it with a sigh and draped it over his arm.
“Dressing room is over there,” Vincent said, pointing. He waited until Jasper trudged into the room and closed the door to turn back to the racks with his own sigh.
He had less than two months to convince Jasper to keep a damn suit.
Or maybe he should view it as less than two months to prove his instincts were right and he should sign Jasper on for longer.