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  The second they were inside and Mike shut the door, Julian lifted a hand and gently touched the man’s face. Mike tipped his head into the caress. Fantastic.

  Mike’s skin was rough, his beard abrading Julian’s palm. Perfect.

  And the way the huge man ducked his gaze almost made Julian come in his jeans. He was indeed a bottom. Julian needed to top this guy worse than he could ever remember.

  “Take your clothes off,” Julian commanded, low and steady.

  Mike lifted his face to meet Julian’s gaze, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed with matching lust. He hesitated only a second, undoubtedly gauging Julian’s request and determining if he should follow his instinct.

  He must have decided in the affirmative, because without breaking eye contact, he popped the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. “You gonna leave me hanging out alone?”

  “Hell no.” Julian didn’t move, however. He wanted to assert his dominance first. When he had Mike naked before him and on his knees, then Julian would open his pants. Not yet.

  Mike whipped his tight T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and then cocked his hips back and forth to remove his jeans.

  Julian set a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder when he was fully naked. He was glorious. His chest was covered in a variety of colorful tattoos to match his biceps. Julian ran the tips of his fingers down the expanse of tan skin, noting how much darker his own hand was.

  The contrast with Morgan’s skin was always so stark, it never ceased to amaze Julian with its beauty. Mike’s deep tan would never be even close to Julian’s shade, but it was still hot.

  Julian removed his touch from Mike and glanced down at the man’s stiff cock. “Stroke yourself for me.”

  Mike took his length in his palm and moaned as he pulled his hand from the base to the tip and back down.

  “That’s enough,” Julian commanded. He needed to know how close his bottom was to orgasm. Pretty close, judging by the way his head tipped back and his mouth fell open.

  Julian stepped farther into the living room. It was dark. They hadn’t moved from the front door, and neither had bothered turning on the lights. The only illumination came from the moon shining through the front window.

  That was more than enough. Julian grabbed a pillow from the couch and set it on the floor in front of the coffee table. He didn’t bother paying attention to anything else. “Kneel here.” He pointed at the pillow. He was a fierce top, but he didn’t like his bottoms to be so uncomfortable on their knees they couldn’t gain their own enjoyment from the experience.

  Mike followed Julian’s instructions, easily assuming the requested position. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

  “Where’s your lube?”

  Mike lifted his face and nodded toward the hall. “Bedroom. First door on the right. Bedside table.”

  Julian covered the distance across the room and into the bedroom in just a few strides. He easily found the bottle he was seeking and returned to the front room, already popping the button on his jeans with one hand and the top on the lube with the other.

  He didn’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, he lowered his jeans just enough to let his stiff cock out and set a hand on Mike’s shoulders. “Lean forward. Hands on the table.”

  Mike promptly obeyed.

  Julian pressed his hand between Mike’s shoulder blades to establish his dominance once again. Not that it was in question by now, but he wanted the man to understand who was in charge without hesitation. “Good. Now, on your feet, ass in the air.”

  Mike struggled to stand, lifting one foot and then the other with Julian’s pressure on his back.

  “Keep your forehead on the table. You may stroke your cock when I tell you. Not until then. Understood?”

  “Yes.” The word was breathy and full of need. Good.

  Julian set the lube on the table and reached into his back pocket for a condom. He tore the package open with his teeth and then rolled the rubber onto his cock with sure, steady hands that didn’t match the intense need he felt. He had no idea where he mustered the composure.

  In a fluid motion, he grabbed the lube, held his cock with one hand, and poured the clear liquid over the top. He stroked his hand up and down to spread the slippery oil. When he was done, he set his slick hand on Mike’s ass and molded the cheek as he pulled it to the side to expose his tight hole. He poured a long line of lube into the crack above Mike’s rear and set the bottle back down.

  Mike moaned, rocking forward as Julian took both globes in his hands and massaged, separating his cheeks several times and then slipping both thumbs into Mike’s ass without warning.

  “Fuck, man. That feels so good.” Mike teetered forward a few inches.

  “Stay still.”

  Mike lifted one hand and brought it toward his cock.

  Julian grabbed his wrist before it reached its destination and shoved it away. “Not until I say.”

  The groan that left Mike’s lips made Julian hasten his plan. He needed the release only a man could provide. A rough, hard fuck that would wring his orgasm from his cock and leave him spent.

  Julian lined his cock up with Mike’s entrance and pressed forward without warning. He threw his head back and fought against making a sound. He didn’t want to give Mike the satisfaction of knowing how fulfilling his ass was just yet. Not that Mike would have heard with the lusty groans pouring from his mouth.

  “You need a minute?”

  Mike looked back at him and shook his head. “Go hard.”

  Julian nodded. “I intend to.”

  Mike widened his stance and released a long moan. Julian pursed his lips, gripped Mike’s hips, and pounded into him. So fucking tight… He closed his eyes, imagining anything but this seedy scene with a man he didn’t know in his small house in the middle of the less-than-stellar side of town. He pushed his Morgan to the front of his mind and thrust fast and hard into the tight willing ass presented to him.

  His cock grew harder. Mike began to sway into his thrusts. It didn’t take long for Julian to reach his peak. As soon as he knew he was close, he gave the word. “Now. Grab your cock, man.”

  Mike shifted slightly to one side, but Julian didn’t need to see. He kept his gaze locked on the image of Morgan’s long blonde hair flowing across their bed behind his eyelids.

  He fucked harder, faster. His fingers bit into Mike’s hips, and he knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. Mike was babbling, angry curse words dropping out of his mouth as if he had a battle of his own he was fighting. Julian slammed in even harder. He was consumed with the need for release, and nothing else in the world mattered but attaining that goal.

  Julian drove forward with a force that made Mike falter in his stance. He didn’t care. He recognized the signs when Mike grunted and stiffened and shot his come onto the coffee table. Julian bit his neck hard, and Mike cried out. And suddenly, Julian was there, right on the edge and then over the top, his orgasm ripping through him as he held himself steady, deep in Mike’s tight hole. The pulsing heady rush brought immediate peace as it subsided. Not a peace Julian could count on as permanent, but more of a taming of the beast within. Temporary as it was.

  And this was why he’d needed Mike. Julian never wanted to show this side of himself to Morgan. This wild faction of his being that demanded to control everything in its path furiously and immediately.

  He may have been chicken shit, but he feared he would lose her if he ever let this beast out to play in her presence. So, he took care of it on the side, away from her gaze. And then he returned to her, always. Calmer. Steadier. Human once again.

  •●•

  He eased back into their apartment with Morgan still asleep. He smelled like sweat and come and still felt on edge, so he took a long shower, roughly pulling his hand up and down his hard cock until he came again. He dressed in the dark, their bedroom lit from the full moon outside their large window. He watched Morgan’s eyelids flutter, her pale ski
n gleaming in the moonlight, her gorgeous ass silhouetted. He imagined her bound, gagged, unable to do anything but accept him as he drove his cock into her body relentlessly over and over again until tears spilled from her cheeks and she gave herself to him completely. He shut the door on his thoughts and went to his office.

  As he answered e-mails and reviewed a batch of new creative work for tomorrow’s meeting, he remembered the sadness he’d seen in Morgan’s eyes the first time he met her. A young girl on a class trip to learn about arts careers at his agency. He’d sat next to her at the agency, eating lunch together in the conference room, and had spoken to her softly about her life. She’d been about to age out of the foster system, with a banged-up camera and little hope of graduating high school. He’d felt instantly protective of her. Before she’d left that day, he told her she was to graduate and come to him when she had her diploma.

  “I’m not doing so great in my classes. I’m failing two of them,” she’d mumbled. “It’s hard to study in the group home.”

  He’d stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough he saw her breath catch and her heartbeat speed up in the pulse of her neck. “Find a way. You’re to graduate and come to me here. Do you understand?”

  Wide doe eyes and so much vulnerability and possibility in her smile. “Yes, sir.”

  She was a natural from the very start.

  Chapter Five

  Morgan had a raging headache from looking over the Loft’s financial statements for the sixteenth time in an hour. Everything looked clean. Julian’s accountants were scrupulous about making sure every detail was listed, but still Morgan didn’t want to miss anything. The grant from the Smith Foundation could provide fifty percent of their annual funding. Everything needed to be perfect. I’s dotted, T’s crossed.

  She closed her eyes and remembered the rush of getting through the first part of the grant application. Something she’d done without Julian even knowing. Thousands of nonprofits applied for it, only one hundred made the short list, only twenty received the grant. Pride filled her. The Loft was on the short list. If she could get the grant, she wouldn’t need to rely on Julian. For the first time, the Loft would be solvent because of something she did, not someone she fucked.

  She shouldn’t bristle at Julian’s charity. He’d always looked after her, since the day she graduated at eighteen with no place to go and no one to be accountable to. She’d shown up at his office in jeans and scuffed boots, and the first thing he’d done was take her shopping. For clothes he picked out. Then he explained who he was, how he operated, and what he wanted from her.

  “I’d like to take care of you, Morgan. And in return, I’d like you to let me. Without question. I’d like you to trust me to know what’s best for you.”

  She could do nothing but nod and look at her feet, simultaneously terrified and so incredibly turned on by this gorgeous black man with the deep voice. What followed was a six-month training period, the likes of which she’d never expected. Julian opened a world to her she hadn’t known, and she was so grateful to him.

  But the Loft was different. From the moment she taught her first class, she’d found a bone-deep fulfillment like she’d never experienced. A satisfaction in herself, in what she could do to make the world a little better. Over the years, that satisfaction had waned with benefactor luncheons and hours spent schmoozing, but she still was proud of what she did, what she provided to the kids who attended classes there. And while she craved Julian with the core of her being, she didn’t want him to have total control over the Loft because he could one day decide it wasn’t worth doing anymore.

  “Morgan, you need to go home and get some sleep. You’ve been looking at those numbers too long,” Kathryn, the Loft’s admin, said from the door.

  Morgan looked up and smiled. Kathryn had taken classes from the Loft too. Finished her last class and never really left. She wasn’t much of an artist, but she could organize even the most scatterbrained of instructors. After hiring her as the receptionist, it took Morgan only three days to turn the day-to-day administrative stuff over to Kathryn. She was invaluable now, and her help allowed Morgan to focus more on development. Four years after hiring her, Kathryn was Morgan’s right hand for almost everything.

  “The grant paperwork is due at the end of the month. I just want to make sure everything is in order. This is important,” Morgan answered.

  Kathryn crossed the room and took the profit-and-loss statements from Morgan’s hand, placing them neatly in her to-do box. “At the end of the month, Morgan, not tomorrow. Go home. Have Julian pour you a glass of wine and watch some crap TV for an hour, then go to bed.”

  Morgan nibbled her lip. “You’re right. I’ll be fresher tomorrow. Did you talk to Andrew about picking up the Saturday beginner’s class?”

  Kathryn walked to the coat tree in the corner and grabbed Morgan’s coat, holding it up for Morgan to slide into. “Yeah. He’s fine with that. He wanted to meet with you to go over some details, but you had your nose in financials all afternoon, so he said he’d stop in tomorrow.”

  Morgan slipped the coat on and hugged Kathryn. “What would I do without you?”

  Kathryn stepped back. “I don’t know. It’s a good thing Julian pays so well.”

  They both laughed at this, but Morgan didn’t think hers sounded genuine. Julian did pay well. All his employees. Including her. At first, she didn’t want to draw a salary from the Loft, but Julian insisted. Said something about it being necessary for 501c3 status. She tried to give him the money back, but he opened a bank account with her name on it and set up direct deposit. She barely touched the money, using it only for little things, gifts to her employees at Christmas, small presents she surprised Julian with. Before she completely understood how things were to be between them, she’d bought herself a collar for him and had worn it to surprise him at his office. His fury at seeing it was palpable.

  “Where did you get that?” he’d fumed, clawing at the buckle to pull it off.

  “I bought it,” she whispered. “For you.”

  His shaking hands steadied and then dropped, the end of the collar hanging loosely in his right one. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter, Sir.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “I thought you were trying to tell me someone else claimed you. I thought you were going to leave.”

  Her heart cracked. She stepped forward and circled her arms around him, kissing along his jawline and down his neck. “I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t want to leave. I bought this so you knew I was yours.”

  He stepped back and held her chin in his large hand. “Princess, you don’t buy your collar. I do. And when I put it on, you’ll know there’s no one else for you but me. You might play with others, but everything you are, everything you desire, that will be mine to take care of. Do you understand?”

  After, he’d taken her home and made slow love to her until she begged him to let her come. He was relentless with his teasing strokes against her G-spot, keeping her on the edge so long that ultimately she’d fallen into deep subspace and wasn’t sure how long she stayed there before he finally released her and provided aftercare. The collar she’d bought was thrown away, replaced at their five-year anniversary with one Julian had chosen—sturdy red leather with a metal O.

  Morgan smiled at the memory, recalling the expression on Julian’s face the first time he’d put the collar on her. His hands shook, and he seemed like he wanted to say something, but he merely kissed her and turned away. Morgan had grown used to that closed-off side of Julian and tried not to let it bother her. But she worried that one day he’d shut down from her completely.

  •●•

  After checking in on all the classes, then logging off her computer, Morgan walked with Kathryn to the front door, going over last-minute schedule changes. The start of a new session was always the busiest time, making sure they had enough instructors and the classrooms were adequately stocked w
ith supplies. The students came with nothing on the first day. Morgan knew few of them could afford materials, and even if they managed to scrape together some money, it wouldn’t buy nearly the quality of supplies Julian’s money afforded them.

  Out on the street, Lucinda was waiting for a bus. Her red hair was tucked underneath a wool cap, and her short jacket didn’t seem to be warm enough for the weather.

  “Morgan,” Lucinda said, waving her over.

  Morgan inhaled, tried hard to relax her shoulders, and forced herself to smile. “Hi, Lucinda. Your class was over hours ago.”

  “Yeah,” Lucinda answered vaguely, tugging at the bottom of her jacket.

  “Well, why are you still here?”

  Morgan didn’t mean to sound snappish, but she couldn’t shake the image of Lucinda pressed against Julian at the benefit, her full breasts displayed for him.

  “Oh…” Lucinda’s mouth turned down. “…I was helping out. I know you’re working on that grant, and I was helping Kathryn pull together some of our past student enrollment numbers.”

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “Of course you were. I’m exhausted and didn’t mean to sound grumpy.”

  Lucinda stepped closer and reached up to caress the back of Morgan’s neck, squeezing at her tense muscles. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You need to relax more.”

  Morgan blinked her eyes. “Maybe.”

  Lucinda stared at her, her pink tongue swiping across her lips. She wore a strange practiced look as if she were putting on a show. “I could help.”

  Lucinda’s fingers felt good pressing along her neck, but Morgan shivered at the tone in her voice. Julian must have told her about them. Which was not something she wanted. She’d been clear with him about that. Her shoulders tensed up again, and she stepped back. “I’m fine. Thank you, Lucinda.”