“Oh God,” he muttered under his breath. He was so nervous for her, so stressed. Lemaitre turned to him but didn’t comment. Jason assumed the Cirque CEO would be staying in his Marseille residence while they were here, probably with a select group of his local slaves, but Jason had booked a hotel room closer to the theater and Theo and Kelsey’s place. Closer to Sara.
Jason wasn’t offended when Lemaitre declined his invitation to dinner, but he was frustrated. It left him alone with his anxious thoughts. He ended up dining alone at a sidewalk café and walking around afterward. He wandered in and out of a couple jazz clubs, but his heart wasn’t in it so he headed back to the hotel. It wasn’t even eight.
He took a long, steamy shower and distracted himself with some emails before bed. The sooner he went to sleep, the sooner tomorrow would come, and that was the day he got to see Sara again. Surely she’d talk to him. He could tell her all the things he should have said before, that he was her Master and she belonged to him, and that he had a cage with her name on it back in Paris, and that she’d been a very bad girl to run away.
No, he couldn’t say that. He wanted to, but no.
He had to tell her the other stuff, like how he couldn’t concentrate on work, and how often he checked Marseille’s weather. He had to tell her how sorry he was for squandering her trust, how empty his life was now that she’d gone. He’d tell her he’d do anything to win her back, even if it meant just being Jason and Sara for a while, without the Master/slave stuff.
His phone pinged and he glanced down to find a text from Theo.
You’re here? Marseille?
Yes, he typed.
Where?
Hotel Arbruste
Rm 17
Come by?
If Theo would meet him for a drink, he could pump him for details about Sara. Maybe he’d even take a message back to her. He waited a long time for Theo to reply, and when he did, it wasn’t the answer he expected.
Sara wants to come.
It’s okay?
He read the text twice to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.
She wants to come here?
Yes, okay?
I’ll bring her.
Theo was going to bring her. Sara. Sara was coming back to him, just as Lemaitre had said. Whether she was coming as a slave or lover or friend, Jason didn’t care. He typed back the only word he could think of.
Now. Now.
Now now now now now.
Chapter Seventeen: Re-Bound
Jason wanted to run downstairs so he could meet her as soon as she arrived, but there were several entrances to the hotel. God forbid he missed her. In the end he waited in the room, pacing, going out of his mind. He looked down at his phone, reading and re-reading Theo’s texts.
Sara wants to come.
It’s okay?
He didn’t say why Sara wanted to come, especially the evening before her big performance. What if she wasn’t returning to him? What if she didn’t want to be his slave anymore? What if she was quitting Cirque du Monde altogether, and coming to tell him goodbye?
Theo would have warned him if that was the case. No, she was coming back to him. When he heard the knock he flew to the door, fumbling with the lock just as he had so many months ago in Mongolia. Hold on a second. Don’t go. When he opened it she was standing there beside Theo, blinking her beautiful eyes.
“D’accord,” said Theo as they stared at each other. “Be good, you two.”
Jason would have thanked him but he was already down the hall, and Sara was in his arms, hugging him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over. His eyes fluttered closed. While she was away, it had been like missing some vital organ, his heart or his lungs, but now she was back and he could breathe again. He inhaled against her hair, remembering the smell of her, the shape of her, the weight of her against his body.
“I missed you,” he said, clutching her close. “God, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” Her fingers dug into his skin. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I needed time.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure you were angry. But I’m back now, if you want me.”
“Of course I want you,” he said. “But how are you?” He touched her hair, her face, her eyes, learning each part of her again. “Are you okay? Did you have the time you needed? I’m so sorry, Sara. I’m sorry I hurt you and lost your trust.”
“You were trying to protect me. I realize that now.”
He was supposed to explain all that, but she understood already. She possessed some new peace, some serenity he hadn’t seen in her before. She had changed during her time in Marseille. Grown, matured, whatever. She was different now.
He squeezed her, trapping her in his arms. “I want you back, little one. Right now. We belong together. Even when we fight, even when we make mistakes, I want you beside me. I can’t be happy without you.”
None of these words were enough to explain the depth of his feelings so he kissed her instead, a long, deep, searching kiss as he held her close. My lips. My beautiful body. My Sara. Mine. She kissed him back, pressing against him like she wanted to blend into his body. His cock filled and rose between them, and he shook with the effort not to throw her down and take her. Instead he broke the kiss and tilted her head back, and looked into her eyes.
Such longing. She might have changed but she was still all there, his precious slave girl, adoring and eager to please. “I missed you,” he said, and this time it was a growl of frustration.
She ducked her head. “Are you going to punish me for leaving? I deserve it. I should have forgiven you, the way you forgave me.”
He wove his fingers into her hair and squeezed until her lips parted in a whine. “I understood that you were upset,” he said against her cheek. “Maybe someday I’ll punish you on principle. But right now, I’m more of a mind to reward you for coming back.” He undressed her, yanking off her shirt and jeans, tossing them over the hotel chair. She scrabbled at his button and zipper. They probably should have talked more, become re-acquainted with each other before they got naked and started playing, but this had been their mode of operation from the beginning. She wanted to be on her knees and he wanted her on her knees, staring up at him, waiting for instructions.
“Master?” She clung to him as he stripped off her bra and panties. “You won’t...you won’t be too nice to me, will you? Because you missed me?”
He chuckled and took her elbow, holding it behind her back. “Are you trying to top me from the bottom? Who decides how ‘nice’ I am?”
“You do, Master.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m sorry,” she said as he pinched and then slapped one of her nipples.
“Maybe I’ll be so nice to you that you can’t stand it. So nice that it makes you sick.”
“You could never make me sick, Master,” she cried, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“All right, sillypants. Enough.” He twisted her arm a little further, pinched her nipple a little harder and pressed his lips to her neck. “Who are you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’m your slave. I love you, Master.”
His cock ached at every word. He ordered her to the floor and waited for her to assume her slave pose. She sat back on her ankles and parted her legs wide, arched her back and stuck her breasts out. So pretty. His cock rose hard and insistent in front of her face. She stared at it with such worship, such hunger. How on earth had he found this girl…and how had he ever let her go?
He grabbed the back of her neck to bring her up on her knees and used his other hand to guide his cock into her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue slid along the underside, teasing, caressing. The pleasure almost took his legs from under him. He eased deep in her throat. She gagged, but then stared up at him as if to beg for more. The sensation would have been enough, but her enthusiasm made it ten times hotter. A hundred times hotter. Way too hot, actually. If t
hey didn’t stop, this encounter would be over before it started.
“Hold on.” He drew away, fighting the urge to plunge back into her mouth. “I want your shoulders on the floor. Ass in the air. I want to see everything,” he added. “So spread those legs.”
She complied, assuming the position he’d first put her in at the hotel in Ulaanbaatar, before he knew who she was, before he realized she’d be his for life. Her shoulders rested on the floor, her hands above her head. She spread her knees and arched her ass up just as instructed. It was a position of offering, of utter vulnerability.
Mine. All mine.