Page 36 of The Cartographer

“What do you want?”

“I—”

“You’re practically drooling, Hart. Spit it out.”

Coaxing is more my usual style, not challenging, but I think he likes a challenge. I’ll have to tread carefully, though, because I don’t want to push him too far. I don’t get the feeling humiliation is his kink, and I don’t want to find out the hard way. That’s a difficult breach of trust to recover from.

“I’d like to suck your cock, sir.”

I’d like to tease him more, watch him try to contain his desire in the cage of his finely tuned body, but I’m about out of patience myself. Between not having Matthew to use in that capacity and visions of Allie haunting my head when I’ve thought about having someone else, it’s been far too long since my last blowjob and my patience is fraying.

“Go on then.”

His eagerness as he rocks off his heels and comes closer, all while still on his knees, is quite lovely. He reaches for my belt and unbuckles it, not bothering to slide the leather through the loops. Eager indeed.

He starts in on the button and zip of my pants, careful to hold the fly away as he unzips, which I appreciate. He doesn’t waste any time but takes my erection into his hand for a few greedy strokes before his mouth is on me. And Jesus, yes, this is as good as I remember it. He’s remembered from last time, the things I like, and is doing them and more. It wasn’t the illicit thrill of standing outside the bar, knowing we could be caught. He really is fantastic with his mouth. He licks and sucks, paying particular attention to the underside just below the crown.

My head drops back, and I allow a small groan of appreciation to escape because he should be commended for this, understand his value.

“You are a damn fine cocksucker.”

The praise encourages a small hum of response that nearly drives me over the edge—what the hell is wrong with me? Getting my dick sucked is nothing new and god knows Matthew’s a pro, but there’s something about this. He’s sloppy, desperate. Maybe it’s raw gratitude for accepting him the way he is. It’s a powerful currency, that—not one many people understand the value of.

My fingers curl around the fine leather of the seat, but it’s nothing compared to the smoothness of his skin so I reach for his neck, draw him in further until I hit the back of his throat. He gags, so I release. The whole teary, bug-eyed, choking thing doesn’t do much for me. I’d rather have him lave me with that delicious enthusiasm than bring tears to his eyes.

He hits a certain rhythm, a particular degree of suction that’s absolutely divine, and I give in. “Keep doing that, Hart, and you’ll get what you’re after.”

With him working at me, I try to hold off to enjoy the exquisite pleasure, but then he looks up at me with big eyes, begging for approval, and I lose it entirely, spilling my release into his mouth. He doesn’t seem surprised, doesn’t break eye contact, just gentles his motions by degrees after my initial climax. And continues on a sweet and easy downslope until he’s barely moving at all. I tighten my hand on his neck. “That’s enough.”

He withdraws, letting my dick fall free of his mouth. I am so, so glad he agreed to come, and I plan to make it well worth his while.

Chapter Twelve

‡

That fucker Kenjiis keeping me on my toes. His new slave’s quite beautiful, as to be expected. He likes stunning women. This one is no exception. More athletically built than the willowy things he usually keeps on his arm, she’s like a jungle cat as she lies at his feet. All restrained power.

She looks beautiful there, curled around his ridiculously expensive and perfectly shined shoes. It’s quite the picture, like some surreal shoot for an upscale men’s magazine, and I have to hand it the man for aesthetics. Everything around him is gorgeous, from the luxe hotel suite that’s likely comped because of the truly offensive amount of money he drops at the gambling tables, to his clothing, to the sumptuous sushi lunch we’ve consumed, to his partner.

Now we’re through with our meal—which he hand-fed to her in a way that made me ache to have my own pet at my feet to spoil and control in equal measure—it’s time for what I’m really here for. To speak with her alone, as I always demand to do with his partners. Though he acts as though it’s a bothersome formality, I suspect he appreciates having a balance to his check. Indeed, I think that’s what he pays me for. I’m not here to expand his practice, that’s for sure.

Kass follows me into one of the bedrooms of the suite where Kenji had invited me to stay the night. I’d demurred. I need a breather, and there’s a magnificent man waiting for me back in my own, significantly less palatial suite to give me one when this is over. As soon as we’re through the door, she stands, making it clear precisely how she feels about me. Which is fine. I’m not her master, and there’s no need for her to treat me as if I am. Eases my mind, actually.

I gesture to two chairs on either side of a side table next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Not taking her eyes off me, she sits, curling into the chair in a decidedly feline manner. While we talk, she doesn’t give me an inch. Respectful, of course, because Kenji doesn’t brook rudeness to his associates, but so damn proud it rocks me back. She may purr like a kitten for him, but not for anyone else. I like those kinds of submissives—women, in particular. Reminds me of India.

After I finish my usual rundown of questions—do you feel safe? Are you happy? Is he respecting your safewords?—she relaxes some, but not enough I don’t think she’d rip my throat out if he so much as waved a hand. Then I can’t help myself. I have to ask.

“What exactly about Kenji do you enjoy?”

The look she gives me is so hotly defensive I can practically feel the aggressive flames licking at my skin. “If you think he’s abusing me—”

“I don’t. I just want to be sure you’re satisfied with how you’re being treated.”

Her eyes narrow, not helping the impression of her being half-feline, half-human. “Who the fuck are you, the kink police?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Of a sort. But the point is your master’s asked you to answer my questions, so I’d suggest you do so unless you’re prepared to deal with the consequences.”

I don’t particularly want to think about what those might be. Probably something that would make even my iron stomach clench. I like the man, but sometimes I wonder why. To be fair, I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about me. At least I hope they do.

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