Scorched Edges by L.M. Somerton Page B

comfortable,” Marty murmured. “But I look like a slut.” He gave a wry smile. “Beau will love them.”
    Marty thought it was adventurous to shop in Hollister. Never in a million years would he have pictured himself wrapped in leather like an offering to the bondage gods. “But that’s exactly what I’m doing…offering myself on a platter to Beau.” Marty’s heart beat a little faster. He pressed a hand to his bare chest and took some deep breaths. “I can do this.”
    His phone buzzed, making him jump. He picked it up to find a new text from Beau.
     
    Pick a safe word.
     
    Marty collapsed onto the edge of the bed. “Fuck. That’s it. Sorry, Mother, but I’m taking up swearing.”
    The phone buzzed again.
     
    Don’t panic.
     
    Marty snorted. “Too late!” He wandered barefoot to the kitchen and had a drink of water. He fixed a plate of cheese and crackers and ate them leaning against the kitchen counter. To sit down meant pressing the plug deeper into his ass and it was already driving him insane. Eating settled his stomach but not his nerves. He cleared up then went back to the bedroom to finish dressing. He cleaned his teeth again then applied a smudge of charcoal eyeliner. He barely recognized his own reflection.
    At half past eight the intercom buzzed.
    “It’s Beau. I couldn’t wait any longer. Are you ready or should I come up?”
    Marty swallowed. “I’m ready,” he lied. “I’ll be right down.” He shrugged into his jacket, checked that his wallet and keys were in the pocket and headed for the stairs.
     
    * * * *
     
    Beau on any day was, to Marty’s eyes, a stunning specimen of manhood. Beau in leather was a walking wet dream. Marty’s confined dick twitched and his ass clenched around the plug. He stood on the pavement, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not sure what to do.
    “Stand still. Hands behind your back. Let me admire you.” Confidence and control reflected in Beau’s voice, his posture, even his expression, which was part amusement, part understanding.
    With instructions to follow, Marty relaxed.
    Beau made a circuit around him. “You are stunning.”
    Beau kissed him. No gentle caress of lips, this was a demanding, possessive assault on Marty’s mouth. Marty’s knees buckled, but Beau was there to support him. When Beau finally pulled away, Marty’s head was spinning.
    “Perfect. Stubble burn and kiss-swollen lips. Everyone will know you’re taken.”
    Marty opened his mouth but no words came out. Beau pressed a finger to his lips.
    “Hush. I’ve got you.” He started to walk down the street, gripping Marty’s wrist. “I have a cab waiting. The company has a contract with The Underground—owner’s a member.”
    “That’s a relief,” Marty mumbled. “Walking with a hard-on is uncomfortable. Oh, did I say that out loud?”
    “Yes, you did.” Beau chuckled and guided him into the back seat of the car. “Have you followed all my instructions?”
    Marty nodded and leaned against Beau’s shoulder. “Yes, Sir.”
    “What’s your safe word?”
    “Fibonacci, Sir.”
    “Good. From this point on, consider yourself in a scene. Use that word at any time. Everything stops, instantly. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    The car rumbled through the back streets, avoiding the traffic pinch points that never got better, even during the evening.
    “Using your safe word is not weakness, it’s what I demand. You’re very new to all this, Marty, and I don’t want to scare you. We haven’t had a chance to discuss your hard limits yet—I doubt you even know what they are. If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, use your word. We will discuss how you feel and agree your limits before we continue.”
    “You sound so serious, Sir.”
    “I am serious. I want you to get as much pleasure out of our relationship as me and that means consent, at all times. It’s not like we’re going to the park to feed the ducks.”
    “We’re not? Damn.” Marty