Serving Him Read online

  He scanned the rest of the familiar text, which covered the history of the period building that housed The Retreat, gave a few details of the surrounding area and its attractions and included pictures of beautifully appointed rooms that married antique fittings with modern comforts. Each room had hidden secrets, designed with the discerning Dom in mind. Bed canopies concealed slings, innocuous furniture had been converted to tools designed to torment, and cages were revealed behind hidden panels and trapdoors. The possibilities for play were endless. Every possible kink was catered for.

  Once he’d secured his reservation, Lorcan had been able to specify all kinds of tantalizing details—the staff who would attend to his needs, what they would wear and be expected to do. Menus had been provided for everything from the ordinary—food and drink—to the intriguing—toys and tools, costumes and equipment. He had been able to select each detail personally down to the type of condom he preferred, flavors of lube and the scent of toiletries. He felt pampered before he had even arrived. Reading through everything again brought his cock to life, but he didn’t touch. Denial would put him in the right frame of mind for his arrival at The Retreat. He closed his laptop. Feeling a bit like a small boy on Christmas Eve, he wanted to sleep so that the morning would come quicker and, after his browsing session, his dreams promised to be stimulating. He hoped the nightmares that still haunted him would stay away.

  * * * *

  Flying wasn’t one of Lorcan’s favorite activities, even in the comfort of a private jet. He always felt a bit claustrophobic. Snoozing, memorizing British vocabulary, watching movies and snacking on food provided by the deferential cabin stewardess passed the time but he was still relieved when the plane touched down on British soil. He disembarked and made it through passport control with the ease of privilege and he was grateful for it. After twelve hours in the air, he was tired. At home, it was late at night but in the UK, the new day hadn’t long started.

  The uniformed chauffeur waiting in the arrivals hall held a card with ‘The Retreat’ written on it. Lorcan smiled. He was the only passenger so it was hardly necessary but for the avoidance of doubt, he introduced himself.

  “Lorcan Wilder. I assume you’re my ride.”

  “Yes! Yes, sir. I love your accent. I’m Rayne and I’ll be your driver for the duration of your stay. I have your bags, so as soon as you’re ready, we can go.”

  Lorcan half listened as Rayne chattered all the way from the airport terminal to the car. He was cute, his uniform tailored to show off his slim figure. Even his cap sat at a jaunty angle. Lorcan wondered if it was permissible to make him drive wearing a ball gag. He guessed not. There was probably some archaic English law against it. He settled into the back seat of the car, grateful for the tinted windows and dim lighting.

  “Sir, you’ll find ice and drinks in the center armrest,” Rayne said. “Please help yourself. The drive will take less than two hours so please relax. We’ll be there before you know it.”

  Lorcan poured himself water from a bottle declaring itself to be from a Welsh spring in the mountains, adding a few cubes of ice to the lead crystal glass. He ignored the chocolates and nuts. Rayne’s driving was so smooth Lorcan’s drink barely rippled as they sped along country roads. He sipped steadily, fending off the dehydration caused by the long flight. Drinking also eased the headache building behind his eyes and he was able to take a bit more notice of his surroundings. The countryside was very different from home. The amount of green was overwhelming and everything seemed rooted in hundreds of years of history. There wasn’t a whole lot of thatch in San Francisco. He slid the window down an inch. Even the air tasted green somehow. Lorcan massaged the back of his neck with his free hand in an attempt to reduce the tension in his muscles. He hoped the beds at The Retreat were as comfortable as they looked in the pictures because he fully intended to test one of them out as soon as he arrived. With no demands on him, he could let his body adjust to the new time zone gradually rather than force himself to stay awake and be miserable for the rest of the day.

  He let his mind drift into one of his favorite fantasies. Predicament bondage challenged his creative brain and his imagination was particularly good at conjuring up all kinds of wicked scenarios. He had requested just one personal submissive at The Retreat and Carey Hoffman had assured him that the young man who had been selected fitted his requirements perfectly. Lorcan couldn’t wait to meet him. He must have drifted into a half-doze because the next thing he knew, Rayne was opening the car door.

  “Mr. Wilder? We’re here, sir.”

  Lorcan blinked, the outside light too bright for his tired eyes. “Already? That was quick.” He got out of the car before indulging in a luxurious stretch, making a couple of his vertebrae pop. The action was followed by a yawn he couldn’t stop.

  “You need to catch up on your sleep, sir,” Rayne said as he heaved Lorcan’s bags from the trunk. Boot, it’s a boot over here.

  “About ten years’ worth,” he replied. He stared at the building that would be his home for the next month. “This could feature in a scene from Gormenghast,” he mused, admiring the tangle of towers and arches. The place certainly had character. He was too tired to take it in properly but resolved to explore once he had rested.

  “Follow me, sir,” Rayne prompted. “I’ll take your bags into the entrance hall.” As Rayne approached the impressive front door, it swung open. Lorcan felt a rush of new energy as he took in the sight before him. He caught Rayne’s cheeky grin and gave him a light cuff in reprimand. Rayne lowered his eyes but Lorcan wasn’t fooled by the show of submission. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the brat. He put Rayne out of his mind and focused on the vision in front of him. A young man, blond head bowed, knelt in the center of the hall. Wearing nothing but underwear, he sat on his heels with his knees parted, hands clasped behind his back. Lorcan circled him, taking slow, measured steps, examining his slender body and lightly defined muscles. Carey Hoffman had chosen well.

  Lorcan gave the blond head a gentle touch, letting the young man register his presence. He detected the slightest shiver and protectiveness surged through him. He blinked, shocked at his own extreme reaction.

  “I see you’ve met Rowan.”

  Lorcan tore his eyes away from the kneeling sub, irritated at the distraction.

  “I apologize for disturbing you. I’m Luke Redding, general manager here at The Retreat. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilder. We can catch up later after you and Rowan get acquainted.” Luke dismissed Rayne with a flick of his fingers, then retreated to what Lorcan assumed was his office. It must have been Luke who’d opened the main door but Lorcan had been captivated by a kneeling sub and hadn’t noticed him. He was impressed by Luke’s insight into the situation. He could only be another Dominant, able to recognize Lorcan’s need to connect with a new submissive.

  Left alone with Rowan in the grand entrance hall, Lorcan took a slow breath. He wanted to make the right first impression. He stood two paces in front of Rowan’s knees and assumed a relaxed stance with his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

  “This floor can’t be comfortable on your knees, Rowan. Please stand.”

  Rowan rose with unstudied grace. His head remained bowed but Lorcan wanted to see his face.

  “Look at me. You may speak.”

  Rowan made eye contact and Lorcan suppressed a sigh of pleasure. The young man was beautiful. His clear blue eyes shone with intelligence and his lips promised the softest of kisses. There was a hint of gold in his hair that drew Lorcan’s gaze.

  “Are you cold?” Rowan wore only a pair of black mesh shorts. The effect was tantalizing, with the ridge of his cock clearly visible but still concealed. The rear of the scanty garment was cut away to expose two perfect ass cheeks, separated by the narrowest strip of fabric.

  “No, Sir. I’m quite comfortable, thank you.” Rowan’s voice was soft but melodic.

  “Then perhaps you could show me to my room.”

  “Th
ere are five bedrooms at your disposal, Sir,” Rowan said. “They’ve all been prepared for you. I only arrived yesterday, but the owners had a whole team of people in last week getting everything ready. I can show you all of them, if you’d like me to.”

  Lorcan fought back a yawn. “For now, take me to the one that you like the most. I need to take a nap, so all I want is a comfortable bed. You can give me the tour later.”

  “I’ve never traveled long-haul, Sir, so I can only imagine what jet lag must feel like.”

  Lorcan was pleased that Rowan felt comfortable enough to speak without prompting. “It sucks. Big time.” This time the yawn escaped before Lorcan could stop it.

  “Follow me, Sir. The Blue Room is particularly beautiful.”

  Tracking Rowan up the sweeping staircase proved to be an inspiring experience. He had an ass that Lorcan could quite happily watch for hours. Once inside the room, Rowan immediately went to the bed and folded back the covers.

  “The bathroom is just through that door, Sir. If it’s okay, I’ll fetch your bags while you freshen up.”

  Lorcan nodded. “Go ahead. Make two journeys if you need to.”

  Rowan slipped from the room and Lorcan immediately missed his presence. He shook his head. “I’m doomed.”

  In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face then used the toilet. A shower would have to wait, though it was tempting. He’d probably pass out and end up drowning in an inch of water. That would be a tragedy because it would mean he couldn’t get to know Rowan better.

  Lorcan stripped, throwing his clothes in the general direction of a chair. The bed proved to be as comfortable as it looked and as his head sank into the pillows, the world faded away.

  Rowan recognized the incongruity of hauling luggage in his underwear. In fact, the idea that what he was wearing constituted underwear was something of a joke, there was so little of it. He pushed open the door of the Blue Room to find Lorcan Wilder already asleep in the bed. Lorcan lay on his side, the covers pulled up to his hip leaving his bare arse exposed. Rowan admired the lean lines of Lorcan’s muscled body and wondered what it would be like to trace the dips and curves with his tongue. He shook his head. He should be focusing on his job, not acting like a voyeur.

  He maneuvered Lorcan’s bags inside from the landing as quietly as he could. The room was flooded with light so he closed the heavy drapes, casting the bed in deep shadow. Moving silently on bare feet, he gathered Lorcan’s discarded clothes for the laundry. Then, after giving the bathroom a quick check and re-folding the towels, Rowan slipped away. He used the laundry chute, knowing that the clothes would be expertly cleaned and pressed within twenty-four hours. After that, he made his way to his own room where he pulled on comfortable jeans and a loose T-shirt. He checked the time and, seeing that Ed would likely be between shifts, dialed his number. He made himself comfortable on the bed and waited for the call to connect.

  “Rowan! Is that you? Is he there yet, your mystery man? Tell me everything. How’s it going? Has he tied you up yet?”

  Rowan giggled. “I’m fine, thank you, Ed. Yes, he has arrived, but he’s sleeping. Jet lag. He’s an American.”

  “I need more than that,” Ed declared. “Give me a blow by blow account of your day. I want every detail.”

  After plumping his pillows and settling back against them, Rowan closed his eyes. “Well, I didn’t sleep very well because I was nervous and excited. Rayne left for the airport at the crack of dawn then Luke, Mr. Redding, called me into his office after breakfast.”

  “He’s your boss, right?”

  “Yes, I told you about him last night when I rang. Were you not listening?”

  “Of course I was! I just tune out the boring bits. Not enough room in my brain.”

  “Anyway, he handed me a package and told me that it was what I needed to wear for when Mr Wilder arrived. He told me that I’d be expected to be waiting in the entrance hall, kneeling. Then he sent me back to my room to get ready.”

  “So what did you have to wear? I’d bet good money that it was made of rubber or leather.”

  “That’s a bet you’d lose then.” Rowan laughed. “Picture a pair of the shortest shorts you’ve ever seen, backless and made of some kind of net fabric. That was it. That was all I was given to wear.”

  “My God! That sounds…hot!”

  “You’re not supposed to say that,” Rowan said. “You’re supposed to express your shock then provide sympathy for my plight.”

  “I can picture you on your knees, virtually naked. You probably daydream about being in that kind of situation all the time. That job really is a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

  “You know me too well.” Rowan sighed. “He’s gorgeous, Ed. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t tall, dark and lickable. He looks young, too. I mean, I know he’s not thirty yet but he looks younger than he is. I’ve only spent a few minutes in his company so far but he has this kind of aura of restrained power. It’s hard to describe, but I can easily imagine him taking charge in the boardroom.”

  “So you’ll let him fuck you then?”

  Rowan let his mind drift into a scene where Lorcan had him tied over a spanking bench, spread and prepped. He could imagine the aching need to be filled.

  “That’ll be his decision,” he said. “It’s not part of the contract, but can be negotiated between us if that’s what he wants.”

  “You will.” Ed sounded smug in his certainty. “And I don’t blame you if he’s as hot as you say he is.”

  “He could still turn out to be a complete arsehole,” Rowan mused. “I’m hardly in a position to make a judgment just yet.” He picked up Bilbo and gave him a cuddle. “But he hasn’t done anything so far to make me think that.”

  “I have to go,” Ed said. “But you have to ring me again tonight with an update.”

  “If I can, I will. I’m not promising though. This job is going to be a bit unpredictable. I don’t have set hours or anything and the client’s body clock is going to be a bit skewed for a while.”

  “I wish you could tell me his name, it’s weird calling him ‘the client’. I think I’ll pick a name for him. How about Cyril?”

  Rowan laughed. “No. That’s just wrong. Have a good day, Ed. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can.” He disconnected the call. Hugging Bilbo close, he picked up his Kindle, deciding to read for a while. He’d go and check on Lorcan in a couple of hours. It wouldn’t do to let him sleep too long but as he hadn’t had any instructions he’d just have to go on instinct. He placed a quick call to the kitchen, ordering a light snack of sliced fruits, cheese and biscuits to be ready for him to collect later. Satisfied that he’d done everything he needed to, Rowan immersed himself in his spy thriller. Secretly, he thought his new life was far more exciting than the plot of the book.

  Chapter Five

  Rowan tried to read but found it impossible to concentrate. He didn’t want Lorcan to wake up alone on his first day in a strange place. After an hour of reading the same page over and over again, he gave up. He took off his top and jeans then made his way back to the Blue Room. He slipped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. Lorcan was in the same position that Rowan had seen him in an hour before. He didn’t stir. Rowan sank to his knees, got as comfortable as he could and prepared to wait.

  It was no hardship to have time to think. Lorcan had made a good first impression. He made Rowan nervous, but in a good way—the kind of nervous that heated his skin and stiffened his cock. He let his mind wander into daydreams that had inspired him since he was old enough to understand what submission was.

  He was alert to every twitch from the direction of the bed as if a corner of his brain was reserved for Lorcan, so when Lorcan mumbled in his sleep Rowan’s fantasies were relegated to the back of his mind. He edged a little closer. Lorcan’s words were incoherent but whatever was disturbing him wasn’t enjoyable. Frown lines creased his forehead and there was a sheen of perspiration on his
skin. His head jerked from one side to the other and the mumbling grew louder. Rowan could make out the word ‘no’, repeated over and over. He rose from his knees then grasped Lorcan’s shoulder in the hope that his touch might be calming. Instead, Lorcan’s arm flew up and he caught Rowan’s cheek with the back of his hand. It wasn’t a hard blow but enough to make Rowan yelp. Lorcan’s eyes flickered open.

  “You were having a nightmare, Sir,” Rowan said. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  Lorcan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a red mark on your face. Did I hit you?” He sat up, his expression concerned.

  “You were asleep. You didn’t know what you were doing. It’s nothing.”

  “That’s for me to decide. Is there any ice around here?”

  “Yes, Sir. I filled the bucket on the dresser earlier today.”

  Lorcan got out of bed, apparently unconcerned about his nudity. He fetched a towel from the bathroom before collecting the ice bucket from the dresser. Bringing both to the bed, he tipped a quantity of ice cubes into the towel then twisted the ends to make a loose bundle. “Sit here.” He patted the side of the bed. Rowan perched on the edge of the mattress and Lorcan pressed the cold towel to his face.

  “I’m so sorry. I should have warned you about the nightmares. I’m mortified that you got hurt, even accidentally.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure what to say. Lorcan wanted to blame himself and there wasn’t much that Rowan could do or say to change his mind, so he accepted the ice treatment with as much grace as he could muster. He fixed his gaze on Lorcan’s abs, resisting the urge to peek lower.