Chains and Canes (16 page)

Daniel exhaled. “I don’t know if he’s the only person on the planet who could do it for me. But he’s here. He turns us both inside out. Why not play for a while?”

“And you think we can,
acho
… Get away with it?”

“This is the dance world we’re talking about. Threesomes aren’t as common as gay chorus boys, but we can rattle off five triads right now without even comparing notes.”

“Yeah. We could.” She framed his face and took a deep breath. “Do we want to be among them? Playing is one thing, and I’m probably on board with that. But we’re us. What happens to
us
?”

“We sure as fuck keep communicating. Do you think we could’ve made it this far together without being able to talk?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“That’s step one. Step two is, he sure as hell better be a quick study. Last night
will not
happen again.”

Naya released a shuddering breath. “He said he’d keep me safe.”

“Yes, he did. And we’ll hold him to it. But remembering how upset he was, I believe he’ll be the most strict on that front.”

“He’s…intoxicating. Then he leaves. I can’t help wondering what the hell we’re missing. He’s a mess on the inside.”

“Yeah, I got that feeling too. Big time.” He shifted and folded her into his arms. With his face pressed into her hair, he breathed deeply. “So, we keep each other safe.”

“You too?”

“If I’m going to give up control… What happens when those burdens crash back down on me because I trusted the wrong person?”

“
Cristo
, Daniel. This is such heavy talk. It’s only been four days.”

“Would you agree to another session with him if we didn’t look this in the face?” He grinned down at her. “You were the one who practically attacked me, demanding answers.”

“You would’ve deserved those smashed toes.”

“No way.”

She exhaled heavily, nestling her cheek against his chest. “What’s step three?”

“Go at him with both barrels. You and me.”

“Oh, that’s almost not fair. He won’t know what hit him.”

Daniel chuckled. “What I’ve
very
recently learned is that’s part of the fun of submitting. I loved taking him by surprise.”

“Ha! Finally!”

He flopped back on the bed and drew her down on top of him. No way was he fucking her missionary style, with her back and ass scraping against the sheets. But he was going to fuck her. Talk—their kind of talk—often led to orgasms. He’d always been the affable sort, perfect for marketing. Throw in the added incentive of mind-blowing sex with a talented, gorgeous
puertorriqueña
, and Daniel would happily tackle any topic.

Which apparently included seducing a Cajun dancer.

Possibilities ran like wild stallions through his mind. Naya. And Remy. It was too perfect to believe. Yet it was also something they could make happen.

He smoothed his hands up her sides. She was stretched atop him, looking down at him. Her hair was a curtain to keep their words private. “So?” he asked.

“So?”

“Are we doing this or not? Learning from him and enjoying him while we can?”

“I won’t be able to dance with him if things go wrong. It’s too much.”

“There are other places for you to dance.”

“That’d have to be the case.” She straddled him, just where he’d hoped she would return. “He won’t leave Devant.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know. But Jack Alderton? One of the dancers? He mentioned something about a showcase to secure backers for a new company. The whole thing fell flat. The
pendejo
trying to lead the thing didn’t have the balls or the vision. Opportunity lost.”

Daniel couldn’t help stroking up her body, teasing her nipples as she talked. She only grinned at him and occasionally flicked a mock-disapproving gaze toward where he played—where he’d been commanded to affix clothespins.

“What does this have to do with Remy?” he forced himself to ask.

“Like you said, he’s a fairly easy guy to read when something rattles him.”

“Totally.”

She shrugged, then wrapped petite hands around his wrists, urging him to continue. “When Jack mentioned this showcase, Remy’s face lit up. Firecracker bright. And then just
poof
. He shut it down.”

“Does he need to dream bigger, angel?”

“Shut up!” she said on a peal of laughter. “When it comes to confidence, I’m Lady Gaga compared to him.”

He’d helped her grow by being the steady support she’d craved, and he was so incredibly proud of her. Maybe they could spread that joy. “But it’s time, isn’t it? Time for you to try?”

She bit her lower lip and shut her eyes. “Yes. I want more.”

“About fucking time.” His laugh was tinged with relief, excitement and building sexual tension. “So, the dance you’re working on now. Is it strong enough for an audition?”

“A whole showcase? No way. We need more dancers and a half dozen pieces for that. But we could turn a few heads…”

“…If I invited heads to Devant?”

“Devious Daniel. Yes. Remy and I could come up with something incredible to present to the moneymen.” She slid back and took hold of his cock. “Because you’ve seen us dance. We could light up stadiums on the far side of the moon.”

“That you could. Oh, fuck, Naya. Don’t stop.”

Her rhythm picked up. “I don’t plan to. Although, speaking of plans, we’ve just upped our own stakes. A company of my own with the Dom I share with my fiancé. Yeah. Really realistic.”

“No halfway, angel.”

She leaned low and ran her tongue along the shell of his ear. “You’re right. No halfway.” She lifted her hips and slid down his aching prick. He was back where he wanted to be. “We get what we want. You and me together.”

Daniel let his eyes roll closed and whispered, “Finally.”

Daniel knew where to find Remy, even when he and Naya weren’t practicing: at Club Devant, upstairs in the second mirrored room. Despite two particular instances, Remy Lomand was a ghost. He didn’t seem to exist anywhere else. With Naya’s help, Daniel would figure out the truth behind the appearance.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching Remy move. Lithe. Lean. A transmutable piece of beauty, but strong and masculine. He moved like the beating, throbbing course of blood. It was his greatest asset as a dancer.

He wore another pair of jeans, but he’d stripped off his shirt. The width of his shoulders was accentuated by the narrow span of his hips.

Daniel thought he’d been quiet, even silent, but when Remy spun to a stop, he stared straight into the mirror. “You come to watch again?”

“I like being near artists.”

Remy huffed. The noise was somewhere near amusement, something like dismissal. He dropped into a stretch, chin against his calf and hands wrapped around his ankles. Daniel suspected Remy might be hiding a blush. It was hiding at the very least.

“I dance. I bring sexy to Chelsea partygoers. Not exactly art.”

“I disagree.”

“An’ Naya said you know your shit.”

“Naya’s right about most things.”

Remy rose to his full height, pinning Daniel with another one of those bleak-humor expressions. Then he folded over to clasp his other ankle. “You come around some night when the locals are rowdy and Oscar is working the bar. That man pours ’em loose. Gets everyone liquored up.”

“Which is why you should be working somewhere else.”

Remy shook his head from his upside-down position. “And here I thought you were Declan’s friend.”

Keeping one shoulder near the mirrored wall, Daniel slowly walked the perimeter of the room. He half-hoped that Remy would return to dancing and didn’t want to present the slightest barrier. He’d move mountains to see Remy dance, just as he would for Naya—for those moments when he wasn’t plain Daniel Baker. They helped him become transcendent.

“I
am
Declan’s friend. This is a better place to dance than you’re making it out to be. You’re acting pissy.”

“I do not act pissy.” Remy stood straight. His chin rose to an arrogant angle, and his bright gaze burned. Or it tried to. Daniel saw something more…desperate. He saw the pieces beneath the surface, the way Remy’s mouth tightened and his cheeks hollowed. “I’m pointing out realities.”

“Fine.” Daniel loosened his tie and leaned against the wall. “Here’s a reality. You are an artist.”

“You’re getting a little one-note.”

Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. I know. It’s a failing. You should’ve heard me with Naya.
Years
in a chorus line before she started to believe me. Then you show up and
wham
, she’s ready to give it a try. Buy in.”

“Buy in?” Remy clasped an elbow over his head and arched to the side. The tiny ligaments along his ribs lengthened with each inch of movement. “You make it sound like you’re pushing a bill of goods. Am I gonna wake up and find I’m the proud owner of beachfront property in Iowa?”

“Do lakes count? I’m pretty sure there are lakes in Iowa.”

Remy’s eyebrows twitched on a hint of humor, this one less forced. “You get my point.”

“I do.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by the image of Remy standing over him while he knelt, Daniel banked a shudder. He’d given himself to this man, opening to accept the head of Remy’s cock. He’d been trying to suppress the thoughts, so as to negotiate the situation with as much clarity as possible. That had been difficult enough before Remy started stretching and showing off—because he had no doubt he was doing it on purpose. Remy knew his body and he knew the effect it had on those who wanted him, whether that meant an audience or a lover.

Daniel wanted to be his lover. He swallowed the flood of moisture in his mouth. He was ready to lick. To suck. To devour.

Hell, Daniel wouldn’t be there if Naya hadn’t encouraged a private meeting. How fucking bizarre was that? Bizarre, in a good way.

He crossed his arms against the impulse to grab Remy. That wasn’t his plan. He’d likely catch another of those intense slaps, the ones that shook his brain and made his sexuality flip.

Maybe he should do it after all.

No. Not now. He needed to straighten something out first. “Naya says the dance you’ll perform this weekend is ready to go.”

“Of course it is,” Remy said with plenty of haughty behind the words. “Otherwise I wouldn’t dance it and I wouldn’t ask her to.”

Daniel grinned. “Artist.”

“Fuck off.”

“Later.” He relished Remy’s tiny jolt. The promise was enough for now. “I’m bringing a few people around to see it.”

“Like hell you are,” Remy growled.

“You can’t control who I consort with.” Daniel raised his own stakes, bringing plenty of the cock-steady intensity he commanded in boardrooms. This was his game. He knew investors. He knew when to pique their interest, when to soft pedal on the talent’s behalf—and when to ignore the talent’s protests.

Naya hadn’t been ready for a long time. No matter his prompting and encouragement, she’d needed time to peek out from behind the shadows of other dancers. Recently, he’d seen a new, exciting fire flare around her. She wanted to bring Remy in. He was her catalyst.

Whatever it took.

Daniel wanted his angel to fly where she deserved, no matter when or how. He was beginning to suspect Remy could fly just as high. The soft, warm place in Daniel’s chest wanted to see that happen, as much as he wanted to hold the man.

Hold him?

The thought should’ve felt like an utter contradiction. They were play partners. Daniel wanted to learn more about his newfound penchant for submission. He recognized it for what it was only because of Naya’s experience, but that didn’t mean he understood the nuances of what he desired.

So what did that have to do with
holding
Remy Lomand?

That fleeting but powerful impulse returned.
I want to adore him.

He wanted to learn why Remy hid, why he ran, why his life seemed to bow his shoulders until his only release was dance. Or the roughest sex Daniel had ever been party to. He wanted Remy to know the peace he felt when Naya pulled him close and called him
mi cielo
.

The wants spun out and out until all Daniel knew was he wanted this man happy.

Simple. Pure. Arousing.

“If I know moneymen are in the audience, it’ll fuck me up.”

“I don’t believe that,” Daniel said with a shake of his head. “You love when I watch you. You adore an audience. You wouldn’t be a performer without that thrill, and neither would Naya. It brings you both to the top of your game.”

“You, maybe. A liquored-up audience, sure.” Remy stomped toward him. “Random bigwigs in suits, no.”

“So fine. I won’t tell either of you which night they’re stopping by.”

Tension rolled off Remy in spikes, not waves—a rushing power that swelled and choked the rehearsal room. The mirrors reflected the line of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the sharp division between his abs.

Daniel liked a man who knew how to deal with tension. Sometimes Remy hid and sometimes he ran, which were tendencies Daniel hoped would ease with time. They were still very firmly in the get-to-know-you phase, despite how quickly their sex life had combusted. But sometimes Remy stood his ground and let tension excite rather than scare him. As much as the idea of holding him tucked deep into Daniel’s soul, he’d start with sex and how it tempted Remy toward greatness.

The rest would follow. He had complete faith.

“All this? This between you and me and Naya? That’s sex.” Remy glared, his chest high and proud. “You’re not shoving your bullshit into my life. It’s
my
life.”

Daniel reached out as he’d imagined, only he didn’t grab. He merely traced one circle over the black ink of Remy’s tattoo. “Just try to stop me.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Kneel.”

Remy snapped the order before he had two seconds to think. The word screamed up from his darkest core.

And sure as fuck…

Daniel dropped. Not with any elegance. Not smoothly. He went down as if his weight and strength kept him from being graceful. Or maybe—what a rush—he knew it wasn’t his task to be graceful. That was Naya’s skill.