Page 18 of Seth
“No.” Marcel’s gaze lingered on the photograph before he returned it to Gustavo in a hesitant gesture.
“Do you know this man?” Gustavo tried his luck.
“Yes, I do. It’s Seth. He is a dom at NoLimits, but he doesn’t take subs.” Marcel wavered as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to voice his opinion, but then a thought rippled through him and changed his expression to suspicious. He looked up. “Why do you ask? What’s your business with them?”
“Personal business,” Gustavo murmured.
Diego chuckled and nudged Marcel with his elbow. “He’s in love.”
“With Justin?” Compassionate notes seeped into Marcel’s quiet voice as his brows drew up.
“No, with Seth.”
“Ohh…” A deep crease cut Marcel’s porcelain forehead. It took him a moment to gather himself before he mumbled, “My condolences.”
“Why?” Gustavo inched forward. Bringing his elbows to the tabletop, he stared into the amber eyes.
Under his gaze, Marcel squirmed. “Please, forgive my assumption, but even if he preferred your type, you don’t strike me as a submissive. As a dom maybe? And Seth… He–”
“He doesn’t switch?”
“Not that I know. Also, he’s … complicated.”
“Because of his voice?” Diego butted in, inching closer to the sub. His arm moved further around the slender back as he rested his chin on Marcel’s shoulder.
“Many subs need the guidance of a voice, so that’s a potential obstacle, yes, but I meant something else. For many, BDSM is a part of sexual discovery. But Seth–” He shook his head. “Never. Not with anyone I know. Maybe he is straight or asexual, but I never heard of him getting involved with anyone for more than a few sessions, and none of them included sex.”
Diego blinked. “I don’t follow. How can you do BDSM and not have a sexual experience?”
Marcel snorted, shoulders twitching in a suppressed laughter. He put the mug away with a shaky hand before giving Diego a cheeky smile. “I’ll show you next time if you come around.”
“No, gorgeous, I’d rather you show me something extremely sexual.” Diego crooned, bringing his lips closer to Marcel’s ear.
Gustavo cleared his throat, dragging their attention back to himself. “So what, he gets a kick from hurting men? Is that what you say?”
Confusion crossed Marcel’s features. His pupils traveled a whole circle before he droned, “I’m not sure about that.”
Gustavo glanced at Diego but only received a shrug in reply. “I don’t understand.”
In his search for words, Marcel picked up his mug and stared into the swirling liquid. “Everyone comes to BDSM in search of something. People look for suitable partners who can satisfy their needs. I have never had a dom who didn’t seek his satisfaction in me, be it sex or inflicting pain. With Seth, it was different. On some level, it felt as if he was serving me, not the other way around, even if I was on my knees and he held the paddle. Like all he wanted was to please me without gaining anything in return.” Catching Gustavo’s confused look, Marcel laughed. “If you ever have a scene with him, you’ll understand.”
Gustavo shook his head, thinking he just wasted a few hours of his sleep. Getting to his feet, he gave Diego a long look, tossed a bill on the table, and strolled out of the café.
* * *
It’d beenthree daysof slow-boiling fury reigning in Seth’s soul. With his pride wounded, he couldn’t concentrate on anything, and even the sand didn’t excite him anymore.
Heknewhis time had nearly run out as in his dreams his skin festered even more. The glowing heart in the depth of SkyBlade screamed for his touch as if Justin’s soul was dying without a vessel, without him.
He didn’t go to the office, didn’t visit the construction site, didn’t touch his drafting desk. The days had passed in a red haze of rage.
Wanting revenge for the humiliation, to seek satisfaction in spilled blood, Seth spent hours on the internet trying to locate Gustavo DeSilva. Using the hidden passages below his villa, he slipped out every night but always came back empty-handed as the addresses he managed to retrieve ended up being decoys. He considered hiring a private investigator, but he didn’t want to leave such a glaring trace.
As a last resort, he wrote a polite email to Arnold Alby. He’d expressed his appreciation for introducing him to Gustavo and explained his complicated situation where, due to the man’s humble behavior, he failed to thank him for the gift. He asked Arnold of assistance.
The prompt reply dried his mouth.
‘Dear Seth,
