eBook
Related collections and offers
Overview
Can a temporary collar ever lead to a permanent relationship? Mark and Mr. Nolan are about to find out.
Mr. Nolan's last relationship lasted for over two decades. But, since suddenly finding himself single, two years ago, he has struggled to find a submissive who can fill the void in his life. Maybe a temporary arrangement is exactly what he needs to ease him back into the lifestyle he loves so much.
Mark's never experienced life under the protection of a good dom. He's merely had a series of abusive partners. He's used to being treated as a temporary feature in a man's life, then thrown away when they tire of him.
When mutual friends push them together, the last thing Mr. Nolan, or Mark, expects is to end up hoping a temporary collar will become permanent.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781781842843 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 04/22/2013 |
| Series: | Collared , #2 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 111 |
| File size: | 225 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
While the stories range over male/male, male/female and all kinds of ménage relationships and have included vampires, time travellers, shape-shifters and fairytale re-tellings, they all have three things in common—kink, love and a happy ending.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Edward Nolan lowered his book and glanced at his watch. There was no good reason why anyone should knock on his door that close to midnight. Hell, there wasn't even a bad reason for anyone to call on him at that time. Rising from his chair next to the fireplace, he slipped his glasses into his book to keep his place and made his way out of the lounge.
His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as he strode purposefully across his front hall. He'd already locked up for the night. He glanced through the narrow window alongside the door as he took his keys from his pocket. Two figures were discernible in the gloom.
He pulled open the door. The light from the hall shone over his shoulder, illuminating two familiar faces.
Edward looked from Denton Greenwood to Jerry, from the young dominant to the even younger submissive, then back. The possibility of them being there because something was wrong occurred to Edward, but it was quickly dismissed. A man didn't spend so many years on the leather scene as he had, without learning to read body language and expressions.
He studied each of his visitors in the full and certain knowledge that they were up to something. Denton did a marginally better job of hiding it than Jerry, but even so — if they'd been in the dock, no jury with sense would have hesitated to find them guilty.
"We have a favour to ask you for," Denton began.
Edward narrowed his gaze, but he nodded once, granting him permission to continue.
"It's a slightly delicate situation, sir," Denton hedged, with a not-so-subtle glance past him into the house.
They'd earned that much for their friendship over the last two years. Edward stepped back to let them through.
"Would you mind if we brought someone in with us, sir?" Jerry asked, blinking big blue eyes at him. "It's just that it's a bit cold to leave him in the car, sir ..."
Edward glanced over Jerry's shoulder, into the 4 x 4, parked by the kerb at the end of his drive. A figure sat huddled in the back, but the tinted windows didn't allow him to make out any kind of detail.
Edward's curiosity got the better of him. "You may."
A tilt of Denton's head sent Jerry to the car. He opened the back door to reveal a well-built young man with dark, spiky hair. He certainly wasn't dressed suitably for the cold. His T-shirt was long-sleeved, but the fabric was ridiculously thin — the stiff wind blew against it, and the lines of muscle on the boy's torso were clearly outlined through the material.
He evidently worked out, a lot. He carried serious muscle, and he obviously wasn't above showing that off in the clubs. His leather trousers clung to his crotch and legs, putting all his assets overtly on display. The only place he could have gone dressed that way, and not have looked like a cheap rent boy, was a gay nightclub.
The boy's attention remained on the ground while he walked towards the front door. With his hands pushed awkwardly into pockets, his shoulders hunched up, causing him appear to be a turtle that would much rather retreat into its shell. He allowed Jerry to lead him forward, not attempting to take charge of the situation, even with someone as instinctively compliant as Jerry. Edward's rapid assessment put a tick in the box indicating that the boy was a submissive.
A bit closer and Edward distinguished the silver piercing in his guest's eyebrow. When the boy stepped into the light, the tissue-thin nature of his shirt let it be obvious that his nipples were pierced too.
Edward was well aware that Denton studied his appraisal of the boy. If this was another one of their matchmaking attempts, they had at least changed tactics. If the last seven submissives they'd thrown at him had all been carbon copies of his previous submissive, Frank, then this boy was the exact opposite of all those pretty, delicate little blonds.
"Mr Nolan, with your permission, I'd like to introduce Mark Howells to you. Mark, this is Mr Nolan."
Mark kept his head down, making it difficult for Edward to see his face. Edward held out his hand. There was a quick flash of brilliant green eyes as Mark peeked up before dropping his gaze again.
A few more seconds passed. Edward kept his hand where it was.
Finally, Mark gave in and put his hand in Edward's grip. The brief handshake was enough to inform Edward that the boy was nigh on freezing.
"Come in," he ordered. "There's a fire in the lounge. You'll find it far warmer in there."
"Yes, sir." The words were so mumbled as to be damn near incoherent.
Edward bit back an automatic instinct to correct. It wasn't his place to comment on the boy's elocution. Instead, Edward opened the lounge door. The warmth from the room immediately seeped into the hall.
"If we could have a word with you in private?" Denton murmured, with a less-than-subtle glance at Mark.
Edward didn't miss a beat. "Mark, make yourself comfortable. There's a television in the farthest cabinet and a fair selection of reading material on the coffee table. You shouldn't have too much trouble finding something to interest you."
Another mumble was all he received in reply.
Edward pulled the door almost closed but left it open an inch, just in case anyone needed to call from room to room.
A few moments later Edward, Jerry and Denton were all in his study on the opposite side of the hallway, the door similarly ajar.
"You mentioned requiring a favour," Edward prompted, indicating the chairs with a wave of his hand.
"It's about Mark," Denton began, rather redundantly.
More out of habit than anything else, Edward took up a position behind his desk. "Oh?"
"We wondered if you'd be willing to take him under your protection. Purely on a temporary basis, of course."
Edward leant back in his well-cushioned chair as his friends faced him across the large expanse of his desk. "May I ask why?"
"He's had a run of really bad luck with ..." Denton shook his head. "I don't even want to call them dominants ... With a string of men who have no right to call themselves anything other than clueless bastards."
"The last man he submitted to disowned him tonight, sir," Jerry added, softly. "We were in the club and, just like that, he took away Mark's collar and abandoned him. He doesn't have anything but the clothes on his back." If Jerry had attempted to hide how distressing he'd found the sight, he'd failed spectacularly.
Denton silently placed his hand on Jerry's shoulder, and Edward noted the way he stroked his thumb up the side of Jerry's neck, reminding him that his own collar was still there, that he was still safe.
"I've known him for four years, sir. He's a good person. He's just can't seem to pick the right dom. I couldn't leave him on the street." Jerry glanced up and met Edward's gaze. It couldn't have been easy for him to hold a dominant's eye that way, but, apparently, the favour was that important to him.
"We thought you might be able to help him get back on his feet, and restore his faith in good doms at the same time," Denton finished.
I have no interest in having a stranger in my house.
Surely you know someone else who is more suited to rescuing your friend.
Edward sighed slightly, knowing that there was no way he'd say no to Jerry and Denton, but also well aware that inviting an unknown boy into his house was bound to disrupt his established tranquillity.
His heart beat a little faster at the idea — no doubt down to well-justified annoyance. "Yes — on a purely temporary basis," he finally allowed.
"Thank you, sir!" When Jerry smiled, he looked so much like Frank had when he and Edward had first met, so many years ago. A fist tightened around Edward's stomach as he forced a smile in return — it was at times like this when he felt as if Frank had been gone for two days, rather than two years.
"We're both very grateful, Mr Nolan." Denton held out his hand. Edward stood and shook hands with him. "I really didn't know who else to ask. I'd have invited him to come home with us, except I don't think it would be good for Jerry to share the house with another submissive."
"Very sensible," Edward agreed, mentally running over all the things he'd have already done by now, if he'd had even five minutes' notice that he'd be entertaining any house guest, let alone one who'd arrive with nothing more than the shirt on his back.
Edward glanced over his shoulder. It was on the tip of his tongue to order Frank to see to it all. Frank had always been good with things like that. Unfortunately, Frank was also well and truly gone. Ignoring that fact wouldn't bring him back.
Mark Howells stood just within the boundaries of the sitting room he'd been ordered to remain in. His ear wasn't actually pressed against the door, but he stood as close to it as he could without risking his shadow falling upon the hall tiles and giving away his location.
The fire on the other side of the room beckoned, but nowhere near as adamantly as the hushed voices that floated across from the other side of the hall. Straining his hearing, Mark was just able to make out a few words.
Tugging his sleeves down over his hands, he rubbed his knuckles together and tried to get a little bit of warmth and feeling into his fingers.
'It's about Mark'.
'Purely on a temporary basis, of course'.
Mark closed his eyes, shame burning inside him, but he failed to feel any blood rush to his cheeks. He wasn't sure he was still capable of blushing — and certainly not over as minor a humiliation as being foisted onto a man who clearly had no interest in possessing him as a submissive.
Everything, from Mr Nolan's cultured voice to his expensive surroundings, told Mark that here was a man who could pick and choose between the best professional submissives in the city. He had no need for a sub who had proved himself completely incapable of satisfying any master worth having.
Mark swallowed rapidly and wrapped his right arm around his torso, hating himself for being so off balance that he could be hurt by a stranger's casual rejection.
Opening his eyes, Mark shook his head at himself. In spite of everything that had happened, the fact that Mr Nolan didn't want him only made Mark's masochistic side more interested in submitting to him. His shaft had already started to harden.
God, but he was an idiot. Getting laid couldn't be his immediate concern. Cast adrift, the only thing he could afford to care about was surviving until his life raft washed up on a new desert island and he found himself kneeling at the feet of another dom.
Geography. That was more important than biology.
He hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings since Denton had driven him away from the club, but he was sure they'd left the city centre far behind them. It was all tree-lined avenues and long gravel driveways around here.
They had to be miles from any club where he might get picked up by a lonely dom who'd let him sleep under his roof tonight in exchange for his body and his obedience.
Mark muttered a curse, knowing he'd been a fool to let Jerry talk him into this. He'd have been better off staying at the club. At least there he could —
"Thank you, sir."
"We're both very grateful."
Mark rushed away from the door.
Not sure where to position himself, he allowed the heat of the fire to entice him closer. Stepping onto the rug, he held both hands out towards the flames, warming his palms. That action, just like every other movement he'd made with his left arm during the last two hours, reminded him that he'd be better off keeping that particular limb as still as possible. His shoulder throbbed, sending a spear of pain up the side of his neck.
Grateful.
What were Jerry and Denton saying they were grateful for?
Mark could only think of one possibility and it tied his stomach into knots that would impress even the most knowledgeable of sailors.
Jerry stepped into the room, a smile lighting up his face. That didn't mean anything. Jerry had probably over-compensated and looked cheerful because he wanted to let him down lightly. There was no way in hell Mr Nolan would actually —
Mark turned away from the fire as the dominants came into the room. He stared at the floor and waited to hear the worst of it.
"Sit down, Mark. The furniture is here to be used by everyone."
"Thank you, sir." Mark waited for the others to select their positions before making his way to an empty armchair and perching on the edge of its seat.
Sitting back would have meant subjecting his shoulder to a fresh wave of pain. More to the point, he seriously doubted his ability keep his eyes open if he made himself too comfortable. He'd never realised before that it was possible for his bones to feel tired.
"Look at me, Mark."
He dragged his gaze up an inch at a time, past highly polished leather shoes and neatly pressed grey trousers to a starched white shirt. If this was what the guy wore while relaxing at home on a Saturday night, Mark could only imagine what he'd wear to a leather club.
Years seemed to pass before he managed to look Mr Nolan in the eye. His intense blue stare was no less intimidating than the rest of him. Mark's cock stiffened with approval. His heart cowered, unable to bear another rejection so soon.
"Are you aware of Denton and Jerry's reason for bringing you here tonight?" Mr Nolan asked, his tone crisp and businesslike.
Mark swallowed, wondering if he could be wrong, if there might be an ulterior motive behind the couple's apparent kindness. He'd known Jerry for years, but if Denton was the one who called the shots, perhaps —
"They've suggested that you may like to make use of my spare bedroom," Mr Nolan went on. "Is that something you'd like?"
Mark cleared his throat. "Yes, sir." That was always the safest answer to give a dom.
Mr Nolan nodded. "Then it's settled." He turned to Denton. "Are you staying for a drink?"
"Thank you, but it's already late. We should get home." Denton's words seemed to be the cue for everyone to stand.
Mark pulled himself to his feet, too.
"No, Mark. Stay here," Mr Nolan ordered as he strode towards the door. "I won't be long."
"Yes, sir." Mark slumped back into the chair. Who'd have thought getting dumped by a dom could drain so much energy out of a man? Curt hadn't been nice about it, but, still, Mark had known it was on the cards. Curt had always made it clear that he had no interest in owning him permanently.
Hushed voices from just outside the front door seeped into the sitting room, but no words were discernible from where Mark sat. He stared down at his hands as he waited for Mr Nolan to return. His fingernails were dirty. He must have scrabbled against the floor when Curt —
The sitting room door closed.
Mark was halfway to his feet before he even laid eyes on Mr Nolan, standing just inside the door, studying him.
"There's no need to rise whenever I enter a room," Mr Nolan said, making his way across to Mark. "But, since you have, come here and sit nearer the fire."
"Yes, sir."
Two armchairs flanked the fireplace — big, deep leather affairs with lots of buttons. Mark lowered himself into the closest one, careful not to jostle his left arm too much.
It was only after he'd sat there that he spotted the half glass of wine and the old leather-bound novel on the table alongside the chair. He was in Mr Nolan's seat. There weren't enough curses in the world for him to express his fury with himself. Way to make a great first impression ...
"Have you eaten this evening?"
Of all the questions Mark had expected Mr Nolan to ask him, that hadn't even made it onto the bottom of the list. Mark stared blankly at his host for several seconds, but Mr Nolan was impassive and waited for an answer with stony patience.
"No, sir," Mark ventured.
Mr Nolan didn't spontaneously combust at hearing a submissive say the 'n' word to him. "Are you hungry?"
"No, sir." He was so strung out on pure nervousness, Mark doubted he'd keep anything down if he tried. Even the thought of food put a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.
"Are you high?"
Mark tensed, but he kept his tone respectful. "No, sir."
"When was the last time you took anything?"
Mark stopped himself short — just before a bad answer left his lips.
"Go ahead," Mr Nolan prompted, as if he were able to look inside Mark's mind and know whenever he kept something back.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Mark tried to form his answer into something that sounded appropriately respectful and failed. The energy to concoct anything less than straightforward simply wasn't in him. "Not everyone with a piercing or a tat is a junkie, sir. I'm not into that."
Mr Nolan nodded slightly, as if, against all the odds, he found that answer acceptable. Sitting back comfortably in his seat, he rested one elbow on the arm of his chair. "How old are you?"
Mark risked a longer glance at Mr Nolan's face. His hair had begun to go grey — not just around the temples, all over. He looked as if he kept in shape, but he hadn't done anything to hide the lines at the corners of his eyes.
He was in his late forties at the least. What age would he want his submissive to be? Most doms liked them young, eighteen perhaps, but would a more mature man prefer a sub who was a bit older? Mark could only guess.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Temporary Mark"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Kim Dare.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
