It couldn't help but make him remember the waist chain that had been his "collar" before their relationship went to hell. This was a generic collar, no personalized lock that said "Mine", no adornment. An unspoken barb whose pain was somewhat eased by the new surge of response as Marcus put it in place. Thomas tried to strain, feeling suddenly restive.
"I don't. . . I think. . . "
"You don't think. You respond. Fight all you want. It will just make me harder. " Then Marcus bent his head and pressed his lips to Thomas' bare sternum, coursing over to his left nipple to lick. Nip.
At the stimulus, Thomas arched even further into the uncomfortable angle, his fingers fisting against the bonds, pulling against a metal clasp that would not give.
Marcus' temple brushed him, just the hint of the silk of his hair.
"Please. . . your hair. "
"What, dearest?" Marcus murmured it, tilting his head so his green eyes, that sinful mouth, were so close, just beyond his reach. "Beg your Master. "
"I want to feel your hair. . . on my skin. Take it down. " He swallowed as Marcus waited, uncompromising. Damn it. "Please take it down, Master. " Marcus had it queued back. After a long, harrowing pause, he reached up and pulled the band loose so that when he turned his attention back to Thomas' nipple, the shoulder-length strands brushed his bare skin. Thomas closed his eyes. There was a physical component - Lord God was there ever - when Marcus made love to him, but then there were times like this, when it was beyond the intensity of an orgasm, where every muscle was rigid, tuned to Marcus' every touch or kiss.
It was like Thomas was in the rapture of Heaven and torture of Hell at once, too stretched between the two to do anything other than stay in this fixed point in space. In the moment.
That said, if Marcus touched his dick Tho
mas was going to go off like a geyser.
Now he knew why Marcus had required he put on a condom with the harness. Or at least one of the reasons, the other reasons still part of the murky possibilities planned for the evening.
Marcus' tongue was damp and firm, and Thomas' legs were jerking, his hips fucking air. Leisurely, Marcus moved to the other nipple, and Thomas cried out at the very first contact. "Jesus!" He bucked off the seat. Then the vibration started up in his ass and around his cock again. It shot a current of reaction through him and then stopped in a blink, a hair before he would have come if it hadn't been for the secure fit of the harness.
"I have your attention?" Marcus' breath was hellfire hot on his skin.
"Yes. Shit, yes. "
"Good. " He lifted his head, lips moist from what he'd been doing. Thomas licked his own lips in reaction. "What do you want, Thomas?"
"To serve you. " The words came out of that void he couldn't face on his own, that Marcus had opened in him. He was falling deeper into it than he'd known he could go.
The words were the first thing that came to his mind before he could analyze or be spooked by them.
Marcus sat back in his seat, put the key in the ignition and turned the engine over.
Laying his hand on Thomas' thigh, he let one long finger stroke to a hairsbreadth below his genitals. "I plan to do a lot of things to you tonight. If you can't handle something, you say 'stop'. " Not 'please don't'. Stop is the only word that will change things. "
"What? No safe word like 'shoe' or 'New Jersey'?" Thomas tried to sound offhanded, even as he remained hyper-cognizant of the fact Marcus had all the control, while Thomas' arms and throat were restrained, his chest bare.
"No. If you're going to stop me, you're going to have to say it directly. " When he was with Marcus before, Thomas didn't know whether to be afraid or ashamed of his desire to be topped. He hadn't had the courage to embrace it except with tentative, easily backtracked steps. Tonight he'd stepped all the way in, and Marcus had shut the door behind him.
To get back out he'd have to go through his Master. Looking at the way Marcus was eyeing his body, Thomas knew there was no way in hell Marcus was going to step out of the way.
Unless Thomas said stop. The hardest word for Thomas to say to Marcus, and he was sure Marcus damn well knew it.
Chapter Eight
The Zone was one of Florida's most high-class BDSM clubs. The fact they'd bought and renovated the fetish club Detonation meant it likely would soon have the same reputation in this area. Particularly if Tyler Winterman's name was involved in it.
Marcus grudgingly gave the arrogant ass that much. The Detonation already was known as one of the area's finest underground fetish clubs catering to the BDSM lifestyle. It also catered primarily to men, and so had many different play options catering to their fantasies and tastes. Marcus had been here before, but not since the renovations.
As Marcus stepped into the foyer area, which was designed to look like the open terrace of a Roman plaza, he showed his card and paid the cover charge. Artfully arranged among the various columns and tall urns of plants were chairs and low tables for the men sitting and ordering drinks, eyeing each newcomer. Except for another couple who had entered just ahead of them, he and Thomas were the only recent arrivals to this front area. Since Marcus knew Detonation's entrance ritual, he decided it was a perfect way to start the evening.
He glanced at Thomas at his side, his arms now free, but still shirtless and wearing the collar.
"Take off all your clothes. "