Jeremy Knight manages to lose the only man he’s loved through a stupid mistake and some harsh words. Asked to take control, to dominate his lover, Jeremy is shocked, and his reaction shocks him even more. He drives Sam away, but learns later he’s made the mistake of his life and sets about finding him.
The search leads him into the perverse world of buying and selling slaves. The rich and powerful Nathanial Daye plans to sell Sam’s new lover, and Jeremy is the only one who can stop him. Or can he? Enslaved himself, will Jeremy succeed? Will Sam still love him?
Jeremy Knight stood outside of his lover’s door, his hands clenched at his sides, thinking about knocking, but not quite sure he was ready. Dark wood, marred at the bottom by water damage, was discoloured around the brass doorknob by what looked like years of handling. Beside a tall oak, two guards stood talking. On the other side of the drive, Jeremy knew there were others.
He looked back at the door. “Could use some TLC,” he mumbled and shifted from one foot to the other. The thong pulled tight up the crack of his ass. He squirmed, trying to readjust the strap without actually using his hands. It didn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t.
He looked at the door again and took a deep breath. It was now or never. Standing there any longer wasn’t going to help his indecisiveness. He raised his hand and knocked. Stepping back, he waited and his heart raced. He crossed his hands in front of himself, gripping one wrist. Head lowered, he eased his feet apart, shoulder width.
His decision was making itself known.
Jeremy watched the rise and fall of his chest, and worked on his patience. His hands grew slippery with sweat. His jeans felt too tight, his tank even tighter. The boots weighed a ton when he moved his feet. He clenched his fist then straightened his fingers, stretching them, trying to distract himself. Jumbled thoughts and desires plagued him. His cock pulsed, and he wanted to sooth the dull ache he’d been trying to ignore for the last hour.
Footsteps approached from inside.
Should he bolt, flee for his freedom?
He lifted his gaze, just enough to see the doorknob turn. The scarred door swung open, and he saw Nathanial’s long, jean clad legs, his groin. Jeremy looked down, focusing on the man’s feet. His mouth went dry.
“You finally decided to knock,” Nathanial said in the satin soft tone he knew made Jeremy shudder. Jeremy had told him often enough. Three months of telling.
“Yes. I didn’t realise you knew I was here.”
“Course I did. I watched you drive in. I watched you come up to the door.”
Again, Jeremy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, incredibly aware of the thong holding his crotch a little too tightly. He forced his hands to remain where they were, not to tug at the too-fucking-tight cup, or the strap between his butt cheeks.
“Would you like to come in?” Nathanial stepped aside and pushed the door wide.
Jeremy looked up, meeting Nathanial’s deep-set brown eyes for the first time. “Yes…” The next word would seal it.
Nathanial didn’t push, didn’t rush him into saying it. He didn’t have to. He simply stood and looked ahead, eyes wide, a smile on his face.
“Yes, Sir,” Jeremy got out. If he’d thought his mouth was dry a few moments ago, it now resembled the Sahara.
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