“Giveittime.”
“I’ve given it years now. I’m not holding mybreath.”
There was enough coffee that Marcus could fill his mug, so he took the pot from the burner. The steady drip from the percolator hissed as it met the exposed element, but before much more could spill, Marcus replaced the pot. His mugwasfull.
“Besides,” Marcus said. “I’m not looking for a relationship, anyway. I’m not even looking for sex anymore. Nothing feels right. I think I’ve been in the gametoolong.”
“You’re not doing a good job of convincing me that’s true,” Crawford mused. “You must be up to something if you’re sleeping past ten on a Saturday. You went to The Shepherd last night,didn’tyou?”
“I did.” Marcus ran his tongue over his teeth, contemplating his next words wisely. He didn’t want Crawford to get the wrong impression. “Cyrus asked if I would take over some training for him last night, so I did—but I’m not sleeping with Cyrus’ sub. It’s not that I couldn’t have done it, but I don’t know… I haven’t been feeling it lately. There are plenty of bodies at The Shepherd I wouldn’t mind taking home, but mydrive’sgone.”
Marcus stirred half a spoon of sugar into his coffee. The clink of metal against porcelain was a reassurance that no matter what changed in his life, there would always be smallconsistencies.
“I think it might be the stress from the cases I’ve taken on lately. There’s a lot of evil in the world, you know? A lot of really sick shit.” Marcus scraped his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking it through. “I think maybe I’m at the point where I’m not able to cast those thoughts aside and get into the right mindsetanymore.”
“What I’m hearing is, you need a break from real life.” Crawford spoke with affection. “The wedding will do you good. Monotony isn’t doing you any favors. You see the same faces during the day at work, and then the same faces each weekend night at The Shepherd. It’s time forsomethingnew.”
“I guess you’ll have to hurry up and become a father so we can get you down the aisle, then.” Marcus risked taking a sip of coffee. It was still too hot, and he winced. He’d burned his tongue. “Not to cut the call short, but I’ve got some business to attend to this morning. Is there anything else you needed to tell me beforeIgo?”
“No, that was all.” Crawford let a beat of silence pass between them. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated on any future developments. It’s only a matter of time before Owen will go into labor, so I might be bothering you with another phone call at an indecenthoursoon.”
“As long as he doesn’t give birth on a weekend, we won’t have a problem. You can forbid him from doing that, can’t you?” Marcus grinned. “I’ll talk to you later,Crawford.”
“Untilthen.”
The call ended. Marcus set the phone on the counter and picked up the bowl of fruit salad. He headed for the bedroom. A set of keys glimmered on his bedside table, and he picked them up on his way through the room. Metal jingled againstmetal.
“Rise and shine, Boy,” Marcus said. He crossed the room to the high-back leather armchair across from the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. Bound to the chair was a young man, a small, but powerfully loud and shrill, buzzer held loosely in the palm of his hand. A blindfold hid his eyes, and a ball gag filled his mouth, but Marcus was willing to bet that he was soundly asleep—his body was too lax against the cables that secured him to the chair to beconscious.
Boy didn’t stir when Marcusspoke.
With a sigh, Marcus set the fruit salad on the table beside the armchair. He pulled the blindfold from Boy’s eyes, then tapped his cheek a few times with the fingers of hisopenpalm.
Boy opened his eyes, taking a second to focus. Finally, his eyes met with Marcus’. His pupils were stilldilated.
Marcus held back a chuckle, keeping his face sterninstead.
“Here’s what you’re going to do this morning.” Marcus started to undo the cables that secured Boy to the chair. “Once I’ve freed your hands, you’re going to eat the fruit salad I’ve given you. You’re going to eat it insilence.”
The cables fell slack and pooled on thefloor.
“When you’re done, you’re going to thank me. You’re going to get dressed, and you’re going toleave.”
Beyond the constriction of the cables, Boy’s hands were cuffed, as were his feet. Cyrus’ toys, all of them. Marcus fitted a key into the first of the locks and began to free Boy’shands.
“You’re going to go straight to your Master’s place,” Marcus continued. The handcuffs released, and Marcus set them aside. “Once you’re inside, you’re going to fall to your knees and beg him to forgive you for the things you did last night. You’re going to beg him to forgive you for being a filthy slut. Do youunderstand?”
Boy couldn’t answer with words—he was still gagged—but he nodded his head inagreement.
“Good,” Marcus said. Once the last of the locks had been opened and Boy was freed, Marcus undid the ball gag and dropped it onto Boy’s lap. It was glossy with saliva. “Should he ask you what you did with me last night, you will not tell him what really happened. I want you to lie to him, Boy. I want you to make him jealous. I want him to think that you’re a dirty slut who deserves to be punished for how willing you are to presentyourass.”
A spike of arousal from Boy perfumed the air with the sweet scent of omega, but it did nothing forMarcus.
“You have permission to speak,” Marcusgranted.
There was a glimmer in Boy’s eyes, wild and frightened, but highly aroused. His lips were ruddy and swollen, and Marcus knew his jaw had to ache, but he managed to speakregardless.
“Thank you, Master Marcus.” Boy’s voice cracked from disuse. “But I just… we don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to lie. My Master gave us permission—Icanbe a perfect slut for you. We still have time. Master trained me forpleasure,and—”
