In his peripheral vision, Nick adjusted his stance, which did wonders for refocusing Cal’s attention on the greater picture. It was like he was falling into James, had got so wrapped up in the man’s responses that he’d forgotten about the scene, about what he’d set out to accomplish. After James’s words, Cal wanted to reassure and gentle him, when what he needed might be totally different. Or much more complex than that simple human response.
“Why aren’t you fighting now, sir?” He kept one hand between James’s shoulder blades, but dug the fingers of his free one into James’s arse, squeezing the muscle hard. “I could do anything to you, and you’d just let me?” You’d let your driver keep you down like this and fuck you and thank me after?
James nodded, his cheek rubbing against the felt of the table. “Yes. Please.”
Cal stroked James’s hair, which felt strange through his glove. Made him feel physically detached, but somehow . . . not. James kept evading the question, maybe not out of rebelliousness but genuine struggle. Maybe he needed a little help. “Is this what you want, sir?”
“Yes. It is.”
Leather creaked softly, and when Cal looked up, Nick said, “You don’t fight him like you fought me, James.”
James tilted his head slightly, as if he’d forgotten Nick was there at all. “I . . .”
“Why do you fight him, sir?” Cal asked. “And why don’t you fight me the same way?”
Colour filled James’s cheeks, matching the handprints on his arse. “I hired Nick.” He was barely whispering.
Nick stepped forwards. He put his hands on the opposite side of the table and leaned over them, probably to hear James better. “You hired both of us, James.”
James licked his lips. “Not for . . . not for this.”
Cal continued stroking James’s hair. “So you paid Nick to do this, to do exactly what you wanted him to do, but you fought him. Why aren’t you fighting me?”
Something in James relaxed. Tension palpably breaking, as though he could only physically relax so much in that position. He closed his eyes, and when he spoke, Cal didn’t understand him.
He turned to Nick, eyebrows up. Nick shook his head.
They both leaned in closer.
“Speak clearly, sir,” Cal ordered.
James shivered under him. “I said . . . I trust you.”
Those three simple words almost knocked Cal’s knees out from under him. He half expected Nick to take offence—he hadn’t trusted him?—but when their eyes met, Nick grinned and gave a slight nod.
“Excellent,” he mouthed.
Careful not to let it show—to Nick or James—that his heart was pounding, Cal slid his hand from James’s hair down the back of his neck, drawing a slow path down his spine.
“You trust me, sir,” he whispered. “So you know I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“Not more than you want me to hurt you.”
Another shiver. “Yes.”
Cal’s hand drifted over James’s shirttail and onto his bare skin, then down over his arse. “You do want me to hurt you, don’t you?”
“I—” James gasped as Cal slid his hand between his legs, letting his fingertips drift over James’s balls.
“I asked you a question,” Cal growled.
James bit his lip, then managed, “Yes. Please. Hurt me.”
This time it was Nick who shivered. He met Cal’s eyes, and that devilish—downright demonic—grin on his lips was probably identical to the one on Cal’s.
“I brought plenty of toys,” Nick said. “Question is, where do you want to start?”
“His balls. He’s looking entirely too comfortable to me.” For emphasis, Cal closed his hand around James’s sac, and squeezed. James jumped a little, but then opened his legs wider and pushed back.
Cal held him like that, aware that Nick was moving around the table to the bag. He was unspeakably relieved that he didn’t have to break the contact, could stay in James’s space, not spoil the odd chemistry they had right now even for a moment.
Nick rummaged through his implements, and Cal could have sworn that he was clinking the metal more than was strictly necessary, like he was turning over every single piece he’d brought.
Right. Frustration. That went both ways.
Finally, Nick stood again, holding a leather-and-chrome contraption. He moved close, and for a moment, Cal expected Nick to put it on James, but Nick handed it over to him. Cal took it and opened the leather straps, then grabbed James’s cock—completely hard—and fed it through the chrome rings, which got quite tight towards the front. He was half-worried they’d be too tight, but Nick didn’t indicate any kind of alarm.
He closed the leather straps, one behind James’s balls, the other in front. That in itself was restraining, and added a nice sense of confinement. Personally, he loved how James looked—from the waist up, he was still the businessman, tie and cufflinks included, but below that line, he wasn’t in control anymore.
Nick went back to the bag and pulled out a chain and a number of dark, drop-shaped weights. Cal winced in sympathy, but he wanted to see how James responded. Nick handed him the chain, and he clipped it on the ring just behind James’s balls. James shuddered when Cal—very gently—pulled on it.