Make Me Soar (3 page)

What we’re
both
looking for
, he corrected.
Isn’t that what’s missing right now from my life
? Alan had never clicked enough with a sub to want a relationship with him. He’d tried relationships outside of BDSM, but they never worked. He’d never found a sub that he loved, or a lover who would be a sub. Alan knew what he was after—a partner who could fill all the needs in his life. He wanted someone to come home to, who could be submissive.

Alan stared at the two grooms, his heart aching with a longing so acute it made him catch his breath.

I want what Leo Hart has
—
a best friend, lover, and submissive
.

Whether Dorian could be all that, he didn’t have a clue.

He could only hope.

D
ORIAN
SQUIRMED
in the worn leather chair facing Thomas’s desk. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir.” The lie brought a flush of heat to his cheeks. Inside his head was a frantic collision of thoughts and emotions.

It crossed his mind that Pietro had said something to Thomas, or maybe another Dom. Dorian was going to strangle the little sod.

Thomas peered at him over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows arched. “How long have I known you, lad?”

Dorian thought quickly. “About six years, Sir.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “And yet you still think you can hide things from me?” He gave Dorian a patient smile. “So let’s try this again, shall we? Is there anything troubling you, anything that I should know about?”

Dorian breathed evenly in an effort to calm his racing heartbeat. “Sir, I don’t know where you’ve got the idea that there’s something wrong, but I—”

“It’s not just me, pup. A
lot
of people have come to see me, every one of them concerned about you. Let’s face it, when Dorian Forrester goes for more than two months without participating in a scene, something has to be wrong.” His green eyes were kind. “And the Doms in this club are an observant lot.”

In spite of his emotional turmoil, one thing touched Dorian at his core.

People were worried
—
about me
. He had to fight hard to keep back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He gave himself an angry mental shake for being such a basket case right then. He blamed his overemotional state on a lack of sleep. There had been far too many nights recently where he’d found it difficult to get to sleep, and many a morning when he’d awoken feeling tired.

Dorian inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m flattered. I didn’t think I was worthy of such scrutiny.” At least he knew Pietro was off the hook.

Thomas did that peering thing again, making him squirm once more. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he said with a sigh.

Dorian couldn’t. Much as he respected Thomas, he wasn’t about to share what was going on in his head. He had a feeling the Dom would try to make him change his mind.

Thomas leaned back into his deep leather chair and took off his glasses. He rubbed them over with a little cloth and regarded Dorian steadily. “If you are unhappy with anything that is—or
isn’t
—happening within my club, I want to know about it. If anyone has treated you badly, then I need to know that, too.”

Dorian straightened instantly. “Oh no, Sir, nothing like that.”

He watched a look of relief sweep across Thomas’s face.

“I’m glad to hear it. So my next question was going to be…. Is there anyone that you would like to do a scene with? Someone you’ve worked with already? Or maybe someone completely new?”

Yes, but he doesn’t want to do a scene with me
.

The thought was there, poised, ready to fall from Dorian’s lips, but he held it back. It was pretty clear after more than eighteen months since he’d joined the club, that Alan Marchant didn’t want anything to do with him. Dorian had watched for any signs of interest, and all he’d seen so far was a succession of subs wanting Alan’s attention—and what was infinitely worse,
receiving
it.

Why doesn’t he want to do a scene with
me
?
It was a thought never far from Dorian’s mind. Not that he’d ever tell a soul. To his mind it sounded arrogant.

He looked Thomas in the eye and took a deep breath, forcing as much sincerity into his voice as was humanly possible. “No, Sir. There’s no one.” He waited with bated breath to see if Thomas saw through him. To his utter relief, Thomas stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

“Then I’ll say no more.” Dorian half rose from his chair, and Thomas leaned forward, his eyes bright. “But if you need to talk to someone, about
anything
, my door is always open. And if I’m not here, then Leo’s a damn good listener too.”

Dorian nodded. “Thank you, Sir.” All he wanted to do was get out of there. Thomas had always been a bit of a mind reader where he’d been concerned, and Dorian didn’t want to give him more opportunity to glimpse what was going on inside his head. He flashed Thomas a smile from the doorway and then went into the club. For a Tuesday night, there were already quite a few members around. He spotted several Doms watching from the sidelines, but he avoided catching their eye. He was in no mood for a conversation, much less a scene.

He told himself he was going have to bite the bullet eventually. Then he huffed.
Except I don’t have a clue what I want to do in a scene anymore
. Not now. Not after Andrew bloody Barrett had taken him right to the edge, without so much as a flick of a whip or a lick of a cane. And had blown away all Dorian’s suppositions about subspace.

He pushed—no,
shoved
would be a better word—the thoughts aside and looked around for Pietro. There was no sign of him in the main area. Dorian had seen him an hour earlier with Miles, so it was a fair assumption they were doing a scene. Pietro didn’t get many nights off from his job in Severino’s restaurant, and Dorian knew how much he loved spending time in the club with Miles.

He saw Scott sitting in the bar area, his laptop open on the table in front of him, chatting with Ben, who stood behind the bar, his attention focused on the bar’s computer screen. Scott gave Dorian a grin.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since the wedding. Wasn’t it awesome?” Scott’s eyes danced with mischief. “God, the look on people’s faces when they found out what was going on.”

Dorian smiled. “Yeah, it was great,” he agreed automatically. “Listen, have you seen Pietro anywhere?”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “Er, I think he was in the group room, with Miles.”

“Thanks.” Before Scott could engage him any further in conversation, Dorian gave him a nod and then walked off in the direction of the rooms. He hadn’t been in the club’s public room for a while. He pushed open the door and glanced around. Trevor was on duty as Dungeon Master and acknowledged him. Dorian skirted around the outer edge of the room, taking in the scene before him. There were about ten or twelve men in there, most of them watching what was going on. That wasn’t new.

Jonathon and Dillon were there, but that was nothing new either. Jonathon loved doing public scenes with his sub. Dorian watched the pair, Jonathon sitting on the low chaise, Dillon astride him, riding him energetically. The words that poured out of Jonathon’s mouth left Dorian in no doubt as to how he felt about his submissive.

“God, you’re so beautiful, boy.” Jonathon’s gaze was locked on Dillon’s face. The Dom wore an expression of wonder. “Let me hear you. Let them
all
hear you.” He tilted his hips and thrust up into Dillon, making him cry out.

“L-love you, Master.” Dillon was trembling, arching his back, eyes closed.

Jonathon’s eyes gleamed. “And you fucking
know
I love you too.” Dillon let out a soft moan, and Jonathon sat upright, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him downward onto his thick cock that pushed in him up to the hilt. “You were wonderful tonight. So responsive.” He pulled at Dillon’s neck, bringing their mouths to meet in a fierce kiss.

Dorian turned away, his chest constricted.
Is
everyone
in this fucking club in love?
Jonathon’s words of praise for his sub, the compliments, the looks he gave Dillon…. They only fueled the ache inside Dorian. And then he caught his breath at the sight of Pietro, bent over the back of the low couch, holding himself up with his hands flat on the seat cushions as Miles plowed into him from behind. The couch moved a tiny bit with each powerful thrust, Pietro’s harsh cries and Miles’s grunts punctuating each slide into him.

“Is that what you wanted, pup?” Miles demanded, his breathing rapid and uneven, hips snapping forward as he fucked his sub. “My thick cock in your arse?” He grinned, panting, the sound of flesh slapping together so fucking erotic to Dorian’s ears.

“Fuck, yes, Sir!” Pietro gasped out, trying to twist around to look at Miles, who laughed and pushed him facedown into the couch, his groans muffled by the cushion.

Miles picked up speed, fucking him faster and harder, each thrust forcing a joyous noise from Pietro. He gripped Pietro’s hips tightly, pulling him back onto his dick. A few guys were standing around watching them, and there were low noises of appreciation, along with hands stroking very obvious erections.

Pietro’s loud groans matched his thrusts, the sub not holding back. He raised his head from the cushion and cried out, “Oh, fuck, Sir. Gonna come.”

Miles howled, “Yes!”

Dorian had had enough. He turned quickly and exited the room, the sounds of four men succumbing to orgasm following him, almost like a taunt. He went straight to the changing room and ran cold water into the washbasin, then splashed it onto his face, his breathing uneven. He straightened and stared at himself in the mirror. Drops clung to his skin, dripping from his nose and hair, his eyes wide and staring.

What is wrong with me?

He forced himself to take deep breaths, the pounding of his heart so loud in his ears in the silence of the room. He patted his face dry with a nearby towel and then gripped the edge of the basin, steadying himself as he stared at his reflection.

“For God’s sake, get your act together,” he muttered under his breath. “What’s gotten into you?”

He knew what lay at the root of it—a deep sense of dissatisfaction with his sex life, his scenes at the club, and the way his life was mapping out.

Is it so wrong to want more?

He knew he’d only touched on part of it in his conversation with Pietro after the wedding. Yes, he wanted a partner, someone who understood his needs. Yes, he was unhappy that so far there’d been no one who looked like they wanted to fill that position. And yes, he wanted more than Collars & Cuffs seemed to be able to offer him at the moment. But as for what he was going to do to change the situation? Dorian needed to think long and hard about that.

Calmer, he sank down onto the wooden bench below the clothing hooks and leaned his head against the cool white tiled wall. He closed his eyes, grateful for the peace and quiet to soothe his aching head. Beyond the changing room, he could hear the distant noises of the club, but he forced them into the background, letting his mind be still.

He knew what he needed—a change of environment. One where he didn’t have to see daily reminders of his failures.

Something stirred in his brain, a memory from the end of the previous year, something he’d seen and filed away in his head. Except now that memory was as bright as a flashlight, and the more he thought about it, the more excited he grew. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it might prove exactly what he needed, or at least push him in the right direction.

And it would take him away from Collars & Cuffs, away from the memories that assaulted him every time he’d stepped through its doors during the last few months.

The sound of the door opening brought him back. Pietro entered, beaming, his belly still bearing traces of his come.

“Hi!” he greeted Dorian with a smile. “What are you doing, sitting in here on your own?” Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to one of the showers and flipped it on, sighing as the hot water cascaded over his body.

Dorian watched him, his heart aching at the sight of Pietro standing under the jets, eyes closed, his fingers resting on the collar that lay snug around his neck. His friend was the perfect picture of contentment, a peaceful smile stretched wide across his face. Dorian closed his eyes and let the sound of the water flow over him. In his head, everything was suddenly much clearer.

“Dorian?”

He opened his eyes to see Pietro standing in front of him, a towel fastened around his hips, his eyes bright with amusement. “Were you asleep?”

“I was thinking.”

Pietro smirked. “I wondered what the noise was. It was obviously the cogs in your head.” He chuckled but then fell silent when Dorian didn’t respond. Pietro sat beside him. “Are you okay?”

It was on the tip of Dorian’s tongue to tell him that everything was fine, but he stopped short of saying it. Pietro was probably the only one in the club who might understand.