The Mormon and the Dom (3 page)

“He’s the best.”

“And you deserve that?”

“I do.” Noah straightened his spine.

“I like you, kid.”

“Then please stop calling me kid.” Swallowing down his inner mother who warned him of all dangers real or imaginary, Noah said, “Please call me Noah.”

“Noah.” Tony nodded. “Good for you.”

Noah didn’t think Tony was commending him for his given name but for the fact he’d finally gotten brave enough to give it out.

“You aren’t arrogant, and you aren’t a doormat. That’s good. I think Ronan would really like you, but like I said, he’s been pulling back out of the lifestyle.”

“He lives day in and day out as a Dom?” Noah had heard there were different levels of saturation. Some dabbled, while others wallowed. Noah wasn’t certain which end of the spectrum he’d like. For now, all he wanted was a taste. He wouldn’t know if he liked the flavor until he tried.

“Far as I know.” Tony shrugged. “I don’t know him like that. I just know that he used to take on clients that I met in my line of work.”

“He does it for money?”

“Don’t look so shocked.” Tony wiped his hands and face off with a napkin he dipped in his water glass. “Lots of people do things for money. It’s not like he’s a whore. He’s not selling sex.”

“But—” Noah cut himself off. It wasn’t any of his concern. If both parties were consenting adults, who was he to say it was wrong? From what he’d read, some Doms didn’t engage in sexual intercourse with their subs. Each pairing agreed to terms before they got started. If he was lucky enough to meet Ronan, Noah would have to tell him exactly what he wanted.

Never in a million years would Noah have anticipated the next words tumbling out of his mouth. “What if I offered to pay him?”

Tony had looked as stunned as Noah felt. What was wrong with him? He must be crazy. His twisted desire had pushed him to consider hiring a man to act out his fantasies. After some more back-and-forth, Tony had left with the promise that he would contact Ronan. In the meantime, Noah contented himself with gathering supplies. Each day that passed without word from Tony made Noah think he either didn’t know Ronan or Ronan simply wasn’t interested. Still, Noah was building his confidence by building his collection of fetish items. The leather gear Tony constructed had been expensive, but when Noah pulled on the leather pants, he thought they were worth every cent.

Not only was the smell of the leather intoxicating, but the feel of his cock and balls being cupped tight and forcibly put on display felt as good as it looked. Somehow, in the clinging black pants, Noah didn’t look scrawny, but slender and strong. Tony had also fashioned him manacles, a collar, and his very own set of collapsible spreader bars. Noah practically climaxed just looking at the items. When he’d gotten home and put everything on, he’d stood in his bedroom admiring himself.

But then he had a momentary stumble. He couldn’t decide if he looked silly or sexy. Possibly both. But his opinion didn’t matter so much as that of his master. And he still wanted Ronan. After a lot of pestering, Tony had told Noah to be on the corner of Ninth and Ninth at noon. So here he was. The only reason he’d brought the pie was so that he’d have something to offer. Tony said if Ronan found him acceptable, he would tell him what to do.

“If he’s not into you, he’ll just drive on by.”

That had seemed unfair to Noah. How could Ronan make a true assessment without meeting him? Was the man so shallow he only cared about looks? In the end, Noah again recognized he had no control over the situation. The only thing he could do was present the best possible image.

Noah had dressed with care in his best suit. He had all his gear with him in his satchel, slung over his shoulder. He kept his head down as if he was checking on his phone, but he was riveted to the traffic. Would he be able to tell a Dom just by the way he looked or what he drove? The longer he stood there with the sun beating down on him, the woozier he became. What if he wasn’t good-looking enough? How long should he wait before he gave up? What would he do if he wasn’t acceptable?

When a large motorcycle pulled up near him, Noah frowned. Apparently, his little trick wasn’t working and someone thought he wanted to cross the street. He lifted his head to tell the person to move on when his gaze collided with dark brown eyes. Had they not been under the shield of a helmet, Noah was certain the man’s gaze would have been powerful enough to yank him out of his shoes.

“Get on.”

Chapter Three

Ronan passed through the intersection twice, convinced he was seeing things. There was a man waiting at the corner of Ninth and Ninth, but he couldn’t be the one. His appearance was so innocent he practically oozed naivety. Hadn’t Tony said at one point during the string of phone calls that he had a stunning twenty-two-year-old sub? No way was that man twenty-two. Ronan drove on. He made it three blocks before he flipped a U-turn and went back.

Blond hair gleamed in the sunlight as he stood peering down at his phone. His suit was well tailored but not excessively expensive. Even though he wasn’t close, Ronan knew the dark navy color would highlight his blue eyes. He most certainly had blue eyes. Ronan would bet his life on that fact. No way could he have the corn-silk hair without the corresponding cornflower-blue eyes. The universe had a warped sense of humor, but there were certain things that were simply destined. But more than his surety about the man’s coloring, there was no way Ronan could leave him standing on that street corner.

After going the other direction, he flipped another U-turn and went back. Anticipation did a little dance in his belly, making him keenly aware of everything around him. Pulling up to the side of the corner, tucked out of traffic in a parking spot, Ronan waited for the sub to look over. When he finally lifted his head, their gazes seemed to smack into one another. Ronan had never felt overwhelmed the way he did in that moment. This man was going to be stunning in his submission. Twisting his innocent features into an expression of passion would possibly be the most satisfying achievement of his life. Hearing his voice, which Ronan already knew would be quiet and sweet, beg for his cock would probably make him climax.

“Get on.” The order was out before Ronan realized the guy was holding a pink box. After he pulled off his helmet, he pointed and asked, “What’s that?”

“Pie.”

“You brought me a pie?” Ronan couldn’t help himself. He grinned. He’d just been thinking about the Zen of Pizza but maybe it was really the Zen of Pie. Many of life’s best things came in pie form. “Let me guess. Apple?”

He nodded and blushed.

Oh. Fuck.
It was the wash of red on his cheeks that practically made Ronan drool. Of course, his all-American boy would pick the all-American pie. Ronan wanted him, and he wanted him now. He’d never had a partner who was almost totally innocent. Even Jeremy hadn’t been as naïve as— “What’s your name?”

“Noah.”

A biblical name?
Not all parents chose such names because of their religious connotations, but in this case, it just might be true. “I’m Ronan.”

“Should I call you that?”

“It’s my name.” Ronan extended the kickstand, then swung his leg off the bike. “What else would you call me?”

Noah swallowed hard as he looked left and right. There weren’t many people around, but by the way Noah was acting, he clearly expected people to listen in. Leaning close, looking up at Ronan with those big, blue eyes, he asked, “Shouldn’t I call you master?”

Ronan’s cock twitched. It wasn’t just the word, which was one of his favorites, but it was the way Noah asked. He was so concerned about not upsetting Ronan that it was almost funny. Almost. When Ronan flashed back on what he’d been thinking about right before coming here, he realized that Noah was very much the same way Jeremy had been all those years ago. Noah was young, confused, and eager to please so he could be pleased in turn. If Ronan laughed at him, he might permanently break something inside this man. Noah’s fragile sexuality seemed battered. He was almost painfully young, yet he seemed deeply scarred.

“You’ve never acted out a scene?”

Noah shook his head. His shoulders were so tense they were practically touching his earlobes.

“First of all, calm down. Take a slow, deep breath.” Ronan took the pie box from him and put it in the trunk on the back of the bike. The pink box fit inside perfectly once he removed the helmet. “I’m not going to do anything to you without your consent.”

“But you do want me?” Noah sounded stunned.

“I want to get to know you.”

Noah frowned.

“What?” Ronan wanted it clear right away that Noah should speak up when he had an issue.

“Just that from the way Tony set this up, I thought it was all about how I look.”

Ronan felt like a jerk, as he should. If he’d actually taken the time to listen to Tony the half-dozen times he’d mentioned this man, he might have arranged a meeting in a more normal way. Sadly, Ronan had been too busy running from himself to think about someone else. How must it have been for Noah to stand out here in his suit wondering if he were good enough? Ronan liked control, but he’d never thought of himself as a self-serving bully.

“I’m sorry.”

Noah’s head snapped up.

“I shouldn’t have subjected you to this. It won’t happen again.” Ronan realized he’d made a mess of their first encounter, but he could clean it up. “I’d like you to come home with me.”

Noah drew such a deep breath, if the air were made of helium, he would have floated away.

“Not for that.”

“What?” Again, Noah managed to look so crushed it was as if he alone carried the weight of all mankind’s failures.

“I don’t want to hash everything out on a street corner. I’d like you to come to my home so we can talk. If you’re not comfortable with that, we can go somewhere public that’s a little more private than right here.” Ronan looked around, hoping he could simply guide Noah toward a local eatery, but there weren’t any good restaurants within walking distance. “What would you like to do?”

“I’d—I want to go to your house.” Even though that was what he said, Noah looked scared to death. Ronan understood completely. He could stand here for the next three hours and assure Noah he would be perfectly safe, but Ronan had a feeling that would only make matters worse. He couldn’t tell Noah he was a decent man. He had to show him. So far, he hadn’t done a very good job of instilling confidence in his potential partner.

Ronan lifted Noah’s satchel off his shoulder. Without looking inside, he placed the entire thing in one of the saddlebags. As he did so, he discovered there were hard metal sticks.
Spreader bars?
If he was carrying around his own spreader bars, maybe he was more experienced than Ronan thought. Rather than continue to speculate, Ronan decided he would have to wait and get to know Noah.

Like the supernova that went off over his head all those years ago with Jeremy, Ronan realized that was what he really wanted. He wanted to get to know Noah. He didn’t just want to negotiate a scene. He’d done that hundreds of times. Somehow, to make things safe, sane, and consensual, he’d reduced the encounters to a mechanical act. His subs were jaded and indifferent because he was. They weren’t rubbing off on him; he was rubbing off on them. If he wanted to find the way to make the parallel lines of his sexual needs and relationship needs cross, he had to stop keeping them separated. No one was making him compartmentalize his life but himself.

Practically giddy with his insight, Ronan grew nervous. Just how in the world did he tell this man he’d just met that he didn’t want to be his Dom until they first became friends?

Chapter Four

Noah couldn’t believe his luck. Not only was Ronan handsome with his dark brown eyes and longish brown hair, but he was nice. Somehow, that surprised him. Noah had just assumed he’d be big, cruel, and demanding. He envisioned a hairy man draped in leather with a surly attitude. From what he could see, Ronan wasn’t any of those things. Ronan had to be at least six three and over two hundred pounds, but he wasn’t heavily muscled and he didn’t seem to be coated in hair. His exposed forearms were strong and dusted with dark brown hair, but it wasn’t excessive. It was sexy. He wore simple jeans, engineer boots, and a green T-shirt with a faded emblem that advertised some bar in the Florida Keys. What Noah found fascinating was that Ronan was powerful without having to put on airs. He exuded strength and confidence.

Ronan handed Noah a helmet.

Unsure how to put it on, he watched Ronan with rapt attention. With one big hand, he finger combed his collar-length hair back, then slid the helmet down. Once he had it seated, he fastened the chinstrap.

Noah followed suit.

“How does that fit?”

Noah practically jumped out of his skin. Ronan’s voice was right in his ear.

“Sorry. I should have told you there’s an intercom system.” Ronan tapped his helmet. “This way we don’t have to scream at each other.”

“It’s great.” When Noah struggled to attached the chinstrap, Ronan reached out to help him. His touch was all business, but Noah found himself off in a fantasy of those same strong fingers seeking out far more sensitive areas on his body.

“You’ve never been on a motorcycle, have you?”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re shaking.” Ronan looked at the bike, then back to Noah. “If you’d rather not, I can figure something else out.”

“I don’t mind.” Noah met Ronan’s gaze. “I’m ready to try something completely new.”

Something about what he’d said made a slow, sexy smile spread over Ronan’s face. He had seemed handsome before, but now he was downright gorgeous. “I like you already.”

The way he spoke made it seem to Noah that Ronan was surprised. Had he not liked his submissives before, or had he expected not to like Noah at all? Rather than ask, Noah admitted, “I like you, too.”

“You impress me.”

“I do?” As far as Noah knew, he’d never impressed anyone.

“Any man who can confront his fears is a man worth getting to know.” Ronan slung his leg over the bike and lifted the kickstand with his foot. “Climb on.”