CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
I brushed his damp hair out of his eyes.
“You won’t be doing it alone. I’ll be here, and Bo, and I’m sure Leesha will jump at that chance to get involved.
” My master had sent me a message late this afternoon stating that three out of the four casuals had been given clearance to know the broad details of the plan, though it had been emphasised that there would be strict penalties if they discussed the project with anyone else.
Colonel Riglis was going to give each of them a call tomorrow, after my master explained the basics to them.
The fourth casual was the young man who was still at school, and the Parliament had decided he was too young to be trusted with such vital information – or perhaps that it wasn’t fair to put that much pressure on someone so young.
But at the same time, they’d offered to find a new casual job for him, so he didn’t miss out on the income.
To my surprise, my master chuckled at my mention of Leesha.
“She’s going to be a nightmare. Put her in a room full of Vangravian babies and she’ll be like a kid in a candy shop.
And I can just see her picking a fight with one of the Ranzors.
I’ll have to give them a heads up tomorrow morning that she’s coming.
” His face fell as he said it, then he added, “We’ll have to dig a hole in the morning for Bribie. ”
I nodded. “Perhaps near the rose bushes?” I suggested. “It’s a sunny spot. He’d like it there.”
“Yeah,” my master said, tears shimmering in his eyes again.
But they didn’t spill over, and after a couple of deep breaths, he seemed to regain control of himself.
He looked over at the bed, then down at the towel still wrapped around his waist. Then he put his hand on my chest, sliding it slowly upwards, then around until his fingertips were resting on my bicep.
“Stay with me,” he said, putting just the slightest pressure on my arm. “If that’s okay?”
I nodded, leaning forward a fraction to close the distance between us. Not that a handful of inches could really be called distance. “Yes, sir.”
“No,” he said, his tone sharpening. “I don’t want a ‘yes, sir, no, sir’. I want to know what you want. I want to know if you really want to be here or not. I’m not ordering you to sleep with me.”
That was an easy one. I’d been wanting to sleep with him for days, and I opened my mouth to say as much… But a sudden buzzing in my head cut the words off. I was here to serve his wishes. I was here to please him. That was all.
That was odd. He was not my-
The words cut off before I could finish the sentence, even within my own head. Cole Jenkins was my master.
A strange instinct had me wanting to test that theory.
A bonded dimari was compelled to obey their master.
I glanced over at the door. Then I tried to move towards it.
My master had ordered me to stay, albeit that he hadn’t intended to.
‘Stay with me’, he’d said… and I now found myself physically incapable of leaving.
Holy heck. That was not supposed to happen.
“Xel? Do you want to stay?”
“That would be wonderful,” I said, a sly work-around to the fact that I seemed unable to properly express myself.
I did want to stay. I wanted to comfort him, and to be allowed to sleep beside him, and to have his hands on my body.
But I also felt completely disoriented by the fact that a dimari was only supposed to be able to bond with one master in their lifetime.
This wasn’t bad, but it was certainly weird.
I had no idea what to expect from the rest of the night. Based on recent experience, my master probably only wanted me to sleep beside him, to put his arms around me and draw comfort from my presence.
But then again, this morning he’d led me into the shower and wrapped his hand around my cock, so perhaps I was underestimating him.
With a wary look on his face, like he was expecting a wild animal to lash out and bite him, he reached out and put his hand on the makeshift knot that held my towel in place.
He looked up, his gaze meeting mine, and tugged lightly on the towel.
That easily, it unravelled and slid to the floor, leaving me completely naked.
Then his gaze slid down my body, slowly, landing on my groin, where my cock was already beginning to sit up and take notice.
Meeting my eyes again, he reached for his own towel, hesitating only a moment before letting it slide to the floor.
I felt a rush of blood to my groin now, as long years of training recognised the slow seduction of his movements, a dance of temptation and daring that I was well-versed in.
I waited, letting him take the lead, impatient to know what he would do next, at the same time as revelling in the anticipation.
He took a half-step closer, glancing down at my erection and putting a hand on my hip. Then, with his other hand, he lifted his slowly growing erection to press against mine, grasping us both together in his hand.
The barest hint of a moan escaped my throat, and I fought the urge to thrust into his hand. My old master had never touched me like this, never looked at me with such gentle longing, and it was a heady rush to feel so wanted.
“Is this okay?” he asked, as if he was asking for permission. But I nodded anyway. Being controlled and manipulated by my master was exactly where I was supposed to be.
He leaned up towards me, not releasing his grip on our cocks, and I leaned down to meet him, anticipating what he wanted next. And sure enough, he pressed his lips firmly against mine, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck.
I felt the slight roughening of the skin at the edge of his mouth where his scars began. But then his lips parted and I felt his tongue against mine, and I stopped thinking for the next few minutes, as his lips and hand coaxed the most delicious shivers of pleasure through my body.
He hadn’t specifically asked me to touch him in return, and I hesitated a moment, wondering if I should ask permission. Once again, there was a clash between Alliance culture and what I had been trained to do. Most masters would want their dimari to pleasure them without much prompting.
But this master was very different – both from the one I had been trained to expect, and from my previous one. “Do you want me to touch you?” I asked him, drawing back from his lips just long enough to murmur the question.
“Yes,” he breathed, then apparently taking that as a cue, he started to manoeuvre us both towards the bed.
I steadied myself with my hands on his hips as we both stumbled across the room, neither of us paying much attention to where we were going.
My foot got caught on my abandoned towel and I had to shake it off, the motion causing me to inadvertently thrust my hips into my master’s hand.
His grip tightened around me, and then I stumbled again as I went weak at the knees.
The backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed, and he pushed me backwards. I let myself fall, landing splayed on the mattress. He stood there, staring down at me with what could only be described as apprehension. Apprehension and a weeping erection. He wanted this. But he was scared of it, too.
Attempting to look as harmless as possible, I shuffled around, clumsily pulling the sheets out from beneath me and then plumping up the pillows in a mildly overdone display of ‘I want to make you comfortable’.
Then I shuffled over, sitting with my back against the headboard, making sure that my erection was still clearly visible.
“Would you like to join me?” I asked, with a playful smile.
I could have matched his sombre mood, and given Bribie’s death, it wouldn’t have been inappropriate.
But I also worried that if we both jumped willingly into that pit of despair, we might be freefalling for a long time before either of us could catch ourselves.
He knelt on the bed, his cock jutting out in front of him, then he ran his fingers up the inside of my thigh, a light, delicate touch that just bordered on being ticklish.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. The gentle tracing of my body continued, over my abs, my biceps, then through my hair.
I felt his hand grasp mine gently, then, as he continued to stare into my eyes, he tugged my hand over to wrap around his cock.
Okay, I didn’t need any instructions to know what I was supposed to do here.
I stroked him firmly but gently, experimenting a little to see what he liked, how much pressure, how much speed.
After just a couple of strokes, his breathing quickened and his eyes fluttered closed.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered, on a breathy exhalation.
With my other hand, I traced a line up his chest, tweaking his nipple a little – the one on his non-scarred side. It wasn’t because I was at all uncomfortable touching the other one. I was just making the somewhat bold assumption that the undamaged one would feel better if I was playing with it.
In a sudden move, my master threw a leg over my hips and straddled me.
He kissed me firmly, pressing his erection against my stomach and grinding slowly against me.
And in the process, giving my erection a thorough stroking.
My hands found his buttocks and I squeezed and massaged him, pulling him closer, rubbing him more firmly against me.
Stars, I could keep doing this forever. The urge to climax was insistent, but I had plenty of practice at pushing that to the back of my mind.
If necessary, I could go for hours poised right on the brink of climax, but never falling over the edge.
Never without my master’s permission. Though I didn’t think my master was going to make me wait that long, this time around.
With a groan, he pulled away, leaning over to rummage in his nightstand. He emerged with a small tube, and I felt my cock throb as he popped the cap open. I knew exactly what that meant. But then he went entirely off script, as he looked down into my eyes and said, “I want to feel you inside me.”