Succession (11 page)

“This can be your room,” Cash explains, depositing him in one of the spare rooms. “Bathroom’s attached, you’re free to shower, sleep, eat whatever’s in the kitchen.”

Sy nods. “Yes, master.”

It’s infuriating to see him so subdued.

“Now, I’m going to take Sascha and show him how much I missed him,” Cash says, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m sure you understand—after all, you got to have him all to yourself for all this time.”

Sy doesn’t say anything, he just grins as Cash pulls me out the door.

Sascha and I don’t even make it to the bedroom before I pin him against a wall, kissing him hard and deep and leaving him standing there with his eyes glazed and mouth hanging open. I’ve missed him so much; touching him is like coming back to a home I didn’t realize I had.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” I whisper, my voice low as I grip his shoulders tightly, holding him in place.

He doesn’t respond, he just clings to me.

“They wouldn’t let me send letters or anything—they said detention facilities aren’t ‘equipped’ to deal with such things,” I tell him, repulsed. It still angers me that Sascha was forced to stay there so long. “My lawyer convinced me that it was too risky to try to bribe anyone. We set this whole plan in motion, and I couldn’t be caught going outside the law to talk to you.”

Sascha’s face clearly shows his relief, and I wonder what he really thought. Did he think I actually left him there like a discarded piece of trash? Like his friend’s master did?

I kiss him again, shoving us both through the door to our bedroom. I close it with a little more force than necessary, the slam echoing through the house. I hate that he ever thought I had abandoned him.

“I’m sorry, Sascha,” I whisper, stripping his shirt off. “I’m so sorry I didn’t have something arranged to take better care of you. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”

I’ve apologized to Sascha on only a few occasions but he has deserved it every time. I am ashamed of the way I’ve treated him in the past; even more, I’m horrified that I let him be detained. He goes above and beyond to protect me, to protect our project. As a slave, that shouldn’t be his responsibility, but it is my responsibility to protect him. I should have had a backup plan in place before any of this ever started.

I start to make amends by stripping him naked and touching him all over. From the way he melts into my hands, I’m certain I’m on the right track.

Sascha takes a few steps back toward the bed, but I stop him, grabbing his hips roughly and smiling when he lets out a desperate gasp.

“Sascha, I’ve missed you, but there is no way I am letting you into my bed smelling like cheap soap and a detention facility,” I caution, making him blush. As it is, the bed has been torn apart, sheets half-attached at the corners, the mattress and box spring thrown to the floor. I pull him close to bite at his neck before continuing. “And there is no way I want to figure out how to get the smell of prison out of my bed. It’s bad enough I’m going to burn this suit—let’s not take the bed down with it.”

“I like your bed,” Sascha mumbles, his eyes fixated on me with a huge smile plastered on his face. He stares into my eyes as he tugs at the buttons of my pants, jerking them down forcefully. I respond in kind, pulling him with me into the bathroom.

He makes quick work of my shirt while I start the shower; he’s tearing it off, but I did say I was going to throw it out. We’re naked and under the faucet in seconds.

Sascha makes a soft moaning noise as the water hits him. I’m startled for a minute, and then I pause, watching him as he luxuriates under the stream. I’ve been looking forward to my shower as well; the prison shower was lukewarm at best, but Sascha’s enjoyment is enough to convince me to wait my turn. He presses the button that turns on the massager jets and arches his back as the water washes over him, closing his eyes and running his hands over his own body.

I give him a few moments before running my hands firmly over his body. He’s mine. I want to reclaim him.

He pulls away, pressing his back against the wall of the shower. He gives me a guarded look and I retreat, letting my hands drop to my sides. This wasn’t what I had expected.

He must notice how strongly his reaction affects me, because he rushes toward me, pressing himself into me, clinging tightly.

“Cash,” he whimpers. “Please… I’m sorry.”

I stay still for a minute, trying not to scare him further, but I can feel him growing tenser. Slowly, I run my hands over his head, down his back. I’m angry, but not at him.

“Please,” he begs. “I want you to touch me!”

I want to believe him, but I know he’ll lie to me if he thinks it’s what I want. I also know that he’ll be crushed if he thinks I’m rejecting him, even if it is for his own good.

I move carefully, trying to keep my face calm. I’m furious at the thought of someone hurting him, terrified that he doesn’t want this anymore. More than anything, I don’t want to push him too hard. I place a light hand on his chin and turn his head up to face me.

“What did they do to you that you pull away when I touch you?” I ask, keeping my voice calm, but still unable to stop the murderous undertones. I had been told that Sascha was being kept safe. Had it been a relative term? “Who was it? Was it the guards? Was it that man you brought home? Tell me.”

“Nobody did anything, Cash. The guards were professional when they touched me. The other slaves left me alone because Sy was protecting me. And Sy… he never enjoyed it. He touched me, yes, because it was expected, but he didn’t enjoy it. It was clinical. An act. I just… I haven’t been touched for real in so long, I didn’t know what to do.”

Some of the tension goes out of my body, and I allow my touch to become more firm again. When Sascha doesn’t seem opposed, I pull him close, and he wraps his arms around me.

“Don’t let me go,” he begs. For the first time since I picked him up, he really seems afraid. “I didn’t know when I’d ever see you again, ever feel your hands on me.”

“Okay,” I agree, still stroking my hands down his back. “You still want this, then? You still want me to touch you?”

“I want to feel you everywhere,” he says, quietly, like he’s embarrassed by it. “It’s all I’ve wanted since the moment we were separated. I just… I need to take it slowly.”

“Okay.” I lean in, placing a kiss on his neck, and then I let him have some space. “Whatever you want.”

He looks nervous, as if the three inches between us is a mile. We both get to washing ourselves, enjoying the comforts and privacy of our home. I was fortunate enough to enjoy private showers, but I doubt Sascha has been as lucky. I finish before him and lean against the back wall of the shower, admiring his body. He doesn’t realize it at first, but once he does, he blushes.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell him, not moving an inch.

He looks torn between coming closer and staying where he is. I appreciate the view; the cascade of water highlights all his best features, and blush remaining on his face makes him look even more attractive. I stand, taking my weight off the wall, and raise an eyebrow at him. “Can I touch you, now?”

I’m careful of my tone. If he says “no,” I really will back down, give him the space he needs, but I want him. He needs to know this, needs to know that he is still the one person I desire most in this world.

“Please,” he whimpers, gazing at me.

I take a step closer, my arms coming up to grip his shoulders lightly, pinning him there with only the force of my will. “Please what?” I ask, smiling. I’ve asked him this question so many times, because he’s so damned hard to read when he’s scared.

“Please touch me,” he whispers, leaning into me. “Fuck me. Do whatever you want with me, just do it now and don’t hold back. I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t know if you were really coming back for me. I thought you might have been charged with something, and maybe it would stick, and I’d be stuck there forever and if Sy left I would have been alone, and—”

I cut off his words with a harsh kiss, the kind that I know will leave his lips bruised and his cock aching. He struggles against me, fighting the very thing he wants, and I don’t stop kissing him. When I first bought him, he spent months convincing me that he didn’t want this; once I found out it was untrue, I discovered that it was far easier to just push through the fear with him. I grab a handful of his hair, holding him tight and kissing him until he stops struggling.

“I will always come for you, Sascha,” I whisper, finally breaking the kiss but still holding him by his hair. “You’re mine. That doesn’t change.”

He leans into my grip, moving his head just enough that I pull on his hair. I drop one hand down between us to grab at his cock, finding it hard. He gasps and rocks.

“Get back against that wall,” I growl, pushing him playfully. “You’ll need something to steady yourself.”

He grins and starts to turn around. I grab him by the shoulders and slam his back against the wall instead.

“I didn’t tell you to turn around,” I tease, smiling at him to let him know I’m not angry.

Before Sascha figures out what’s happening, I’m on my knees, gripping his legs roughly and taking his cock into my mouth. I feel his legs shake and I increase my efforts, working his cock fast and hard. Above me, Sascha is letting out a series of pleas and moans. I’m thrilled that I’ve taken him to this point so quickly. His hands rest on my head, playing with my hair. I’m so thrilled to have him back.

I bring him to orgasm quickly, and I can tell from the way he struggles and whimpers that he’s not ready for it to end. I let an appreciative hum pass through my lips as he comes, increasing the sensation even further. Sascha slides down the wall, panting, and I rise to pull him under the showerhead again.

“Cash.” He looks at me in amazement.

“You’re welcome,” I tease, shutting the water off and grabbing towels for us. Sascha stands there, shocked, and I dry him off before dragging him into the bedroom. I pause just long enough to yank the box spring and mattress back onto the frame before pushing him face down on the bed. He waits patiently, only the slightest bit of tension noticeable in his body.

Chapter 10
Reacquainted

Sascha yelps when I drip oil across his back, turning his head to look at me.

I grin, holding the bottle up, making him laugh. It’s been so long since either of us has felt something as nice as the expensive oils and lotions that I have, and I want to treat him. I drip some more oil over him and start working it into his skin, tracing over the familiar body that I’ve missed so much. He is still for a moment, and then I see him clutching at the rumpled sheets, running his fingers over the expensive fabric.

I slide my way up his body, pressing down on him insistently. “Did you really miss me, Sascha, or did you just miss my bed?”

He laughs, a playful sound that I’ve longed to hear over the past few weeks.

“I missed everything about you,” he confesses.

“Good.” I assumed, but I’m pleased to hear him say it. I continue to rub oil over him, every part of me touching him. I kiss and bite around his neck, harder and harder, until he squirms underneath of me.

“I want to mark you,” I tell him, unable to hide the desire I feel for him. “I want to see my marks on you for days.”

“I’m yours,” he says, too turned on by the idea to say anything more.

I start slowly, biting down where his neck meets his shoulder, increasing the pressure until he cries out underneath me. I know I’m hurting him, but I know it’s the kind of pain he likes.

I add a matching bite on the other side, and somehow this one seems to hurt him more, maybe because he knows it’s coming. Sascha writhes underneath me and whimpers. I don’t stop, and when I’ve had my fill of marking up his neck, I trail my tongue down his back, tracing a line to his ass. He trembles, but the way he’s breathing lets me know he’s not scared, he’s just excited.

I knead his ass with my hands, slowly spreading his cheeks and dipping my tongue inside. Sascha clutches at the sheets some more and moans for me. I hadn’t made him come earlier, I’m certain he would be coming now.

I pull back after a few moments, and I caress his ass with my hands again. Sascha rocks back, seeking more contact, trying to press himself against me as much as possible.

“Can I mark you here?” I ask, my voice neutral. I’m careful not to be too demanding, giving him the space that he can’t bring himself to ask for.

“Yes.” He braces himself.

I slap his ass lightly with my hand.

“Like this,” I whisper. “I want to see my handprints on your ass.”

“Yes,” he moans, rocking desperately against the mattress. “Please. Please, and then fuck me!”

A sharp slap makes him jerk and gasp. Sascha’s head turns, his eyes fly open, and he whimpers a little. A bright, red handprint glows on the right side of his ass.

The look on his face is utter bliss.

“I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, Sascha,” I tell him calmly. After so long fantasizing about this, I feel like we have all the time in the world.

Another slap, this time to the left side. Sascha makes a high whining sound. He stills, and I can tell he’s trying to be good, holding back from thrusting against the mattress.