Prologue 1

PROLOGUE 1

A couple months ago

Cameron Jacobson

“Forgive me—I’m rambling,” Archie laughed softly. “What step are you on?”

“No problem! Step twelve—putting the dish in the oven.” I grinned to myself and closed the oven, then set the timer for forty-five minutes. “You?” I went to wash my hands and push play on my background playlist again.

“Almost there too. Just adding the Parmesan.”

I dried my hands before I adjusted the earbuds. “To sum up, we’ve had a great holiday, we need a new book for our book club, and it’s nice to get back to normal routines.”

He chuckled. “Exactly. I mean, I loved meeting Master’s family, but they’re such a wild bunch. When one yells, there’s no one to tell them to lower their voice. No, they shout even louder.”

That cracked me up, ’cause he was just describing Noa. And, to an extent, KC. KC could definitely meet Noa at his level. “I have two people like that in my life. Noa and my cousin Parker—and KC gets an honorary mention. Don’t let the corporate lawyer schtick fool you.”

Good thing I was home alone, because KC and Noa would include me in the same group, which was so fucking wrong. I had my tiny brat moments—nothing more.

“Like Sloan!” Archie exclaimed. “Because Master’s usually the hell-raiser, Sloan comes off as the calmer of the two. But that’s just setting the bar low. Sloan can push buttons like mad—which you obviously know.”

I sure did. I snickered under my breath.

In the background, I heard Master Greer going, “Who you callin’ hell-raiser, baby?”

I grinned and started wiping down the counter. Master would be home in about half an hour, so I had time to prepare his appetizer too.

“Definitely not you, Owner,” Archie teased. “I’m talking to Cam. We’re cooking together.”

“I see.” Greer’s voice sounded closer, and it was soon followed by an audible kiss between the two. “Hey, pet. Everythin’ good?”

“Yes, Sir. How are you?” I smiled and opened the fridge to haul out the ingredients. “Archie told me you spoiled each other over Christmas.”

“Good and proper,” he confirmed with a chuckle. “If you ask me, Corey went overboard. He—hold on.” There was some commotion in the background, a mix of dogs barking and a kid crying. “I’ll be right there, sweetheart! Oi, Jason—your sister’s upset. Don’t just walk past her. Where’s Kyla?”

“Corey has her. They’re upstairs. Shoo, Sir.” Archie clearly wanted his phone privacy back, and I waited, amused, until things quieted down again.

By then, I had everything out for Master’s antipasto platter.

Since he’d told me his doctor wanted him to cut down on salt and red meat—according to Master, there was “slight concern” about stress and “slightly elevated” blood pressure—I’d done my best to serve him less antipasti. But it was difficult because he loved his charcuterie, olives, marinated artichokes, and stuff like that.

And call me a fretter, but when someone overused the word “slightly,” it raised a red flag or two.

He was going back to the doctor next week, and I could only hope things hadn’t gotten worse. I couldn’t actually believe it, because he hadn’t worked less. He hadn’t made an effort to sleep better. His hours at the office remained insane.

For now, I kept it all to myself.

Instead of an appetizer, Archie was preparing a loaf of bread and side salads with their dinner, so we chatted about upcoming events while we worked. He and Macklin were hoping to put together a cooking class at some point, and Archie and I wanted to plan a demo about going the extra mile for our Owners.

Archie couldn’t decide which topic to go with. “I mean, I feel like body worship has been covered—and I say that as a complete newbie in the community. But it’s usually the first kink that pops up.”

That was true.

I placed two slices of brie on the plate before moving on to the olives. “We could also do two examples of my idea.” I threw that out there. “It doesn’t have to be a huge, elaborate event. Sometimes, we just wanna share some tips and tricks.”

Archie hummed, thinking it over. “I suppose… Actually, our versions of that would look different, so it’s not a bad idea. Luxury unboxing for you, special teatime for me.”

I laughed. “Luxury unboxing—let’s fucking call it that.”

He laughed too. “I don’t know how else to describe it! When you first told me about it, it sounded so posh and luxurious.”

And his version didn’t? Please.

I’d seen the pictures he uploaded online sometimes, how he spoiled his Owners rotten with snacks served on silver trays, little sugar bowls and jams and freshly baked scones. His food porn was like stepping into Victorian England or something.

“Discreetly changing the topic, by the way,” Archie went on. “How did the meeting go with your boss?”

“I haven’t had it yet—officially—but we talked in the cafeteria at work before the holidays, and he doesn’t foresee any problems,” I replied. “I’m gonna see him first thing on Monday.”

I couldn’t freaking wait. Unlike Master, I could cut back on my work fairly instantly. I was opting for 75%, so that I could still advance—which was an option I wanted—but I could work from home quite a bit too. I mean, I still loved my job and I couldn’t imagine quitting altogether, but I wanted more time for my slave space.

Master had told me it was entirely up to me—so long as I didn’t stress myself out.

Hello, irony!

“You can quit, you can work full time, you can go down to part time. Whatever you choose, you have my full support. And if you do cut your hours, it means you’ll let me take care of you financially as well.”

He could tell me it was my choice—and I knew it was—but he couldn’t hide his deepest desire. He wanted to take care of me, just like I wanted to serve him. So this was gonna work out perfectly. Well…the day he eventually, finally, let go of some of his own responsibilities at work. ’Cause it was a decision we’d made as a couple. I would go down to 75%, and he would do the same.

I checked the time again, and I also checked my phone. No messages from KC and Noa, meaning they hadn’t changed their minds. They were staying at our condo in town tonight. Master and I would have the house all to ourselves.

I smiled and popped a cheddar cube into my mouth.

* * *

The instant I heard Master’s car pulling in, I dimmed the lights in the kitchen and hurried into the dining room to light the candles on the table. Then I rushed back through the kitchen and out to the hallway.

Deep breaths.

Dinner was almost ready. I’d turned off the oven so Master could sit down with some peace and quiet to enjoy his appetizer without the timer going off. Plus, it was a good way to save on power. It wasn’t as if the oven turned cold instantly.

I ran a hand through my hair and grabbed Master’s coat hanger, and then I waited. He didn’t want me to kneel or get into any sort of high-protocol position for his arrival. I was even wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt! But he’d just said, “When I come home, I want you in my arms, not on the floor. I want you comfortable, warm, and cuddly.”

I could totally live with that.

The door opened, and I lit up. He’s tired. My smile faltered a little, even as his widened. Oh, he needed to rest. He couldn’t keep working this much. It might sound early to have dinner at six, but he’d gone into work at four-fucking-thirty this morning. And honestly, most of the time, we didn’t have dinner till past seven—and then he worked a couple more hours in his home study.

“Without a doubt, the best part of my day,” he said. “I missed you an absurd amount today, darling.”

“I missed you too, Owner.” I stepped forward and helped him with his coat, and I hung it in the closet next to the laundry room. And then I was in his arms. He hugged me tightly, and I slipped my hands up his chest and locked them around his neck.

Fuck.

I screwed my eyes shut and squeezed him as tightly as I could.

Lucian Leroux wasn’t one to complain when he was under pressure. If anything, he hunkered down and pushed himself harder. But I could tell anyway. Master’s exhaustion radiated off him in every ounce of affection. Like silent pleas for help.

I pressed kisses along his neck and jaw, drawing out another smile from him, and he tilted his head and captured my mouth with his.

His fingers occasionally brushed over the leather of my collar. I only wore it at home and at Mclean, partly because it was impossible to hide a two-inch wide leather collar.

The leather was so soft, and I loved wearing it—I loved feeling it.

Master did too, though, right now, for the wrong reasons. As if touching the collar reminded him that life outside work existed. A reminder he shouldn’t need.

KC’s words went on a loop in my brain sometimes. He’s been slowing down at work for a year now. A fucking year. I mean, I remembered from my years pining after him; he’d only ever shown up at Mclean on weekends. Never weeknight events—and far from every weekend. I’d been lucky if I’d caught him two nights in a month. With his manipulating asshole of an ex, of course.

It made me wonder, though. If working nine to ten hours a day was the result of cutting back for a year…what the hell had his schedule looked like before?

Although, KC had also said that Master had put in extra hours lately in order to handle both his work and training someone new. With their responsibilities, with their close relationships to clients, Master evidently had a lot of knowledge to share. Each billionaire is different, he joked sometimes.

To me, they were all the same. They were demanding too much of my Master.

“Would you like me to help you freshen up, Master?” I kissed the corner of his mouth and loosened his tie.

“Tempting—but I’m starving, and it smells heavenly in here.”

Food first, then.

I smiled and sank to my knees to help him with his shoes, and he just smiled back and shook his head a little. With that out of the way, he was quick to haul me back up, and he threaded our fingers together.

He was always affectionate with me, which I loved so much, but I could sense something was off. He needed my closeness for reasons that made me worried. Like a dying grandmother who wanted to spend all her time with the grandkids before she passed away. Maybe I spoke from experience.

In the kitchen, I grabbed his appetizer and a glass of red wine, and he snuck a peek in the oven.

“I don’t know what that is, but it looks fantastic, love.”

“It’s an Italian chicken casserole,” I replied. “Archie and I cooked together over the phone. He wanted my recipe for my strawberry tartlets, and I’ve been asking him about this casserole.”

“You know how to make my mouth water,” he said. Then he glanced around the kitchen. “Are we having those tartlets for dessert, by any chance?”

I grinned ruefully. “We said no more desserts on weeknights, Master. Remember?”

He sighed and followed me into the dining room. “I recall you and KC agreeing to that nonsense. Noa and I had very little say in the matter.”

Yeah, I wonder why.

I placed his antipasti platter at the head of the table, with his wine, and pulled out his chair. “We’re just worried about you, Sir.”

“You have no reason to worry, Cameron. I didn’t waste my first forty-four years on this planet to lose you in the blink of an eye.”

That was supposed to be reassuring. If only his actions didn’t go against his words. Everything he did, all the stress, all the pressure, not eating very well, was already taking a toll on his heart.

I watched him take his seat, and he eyed the platter appreciatively as he took a sip of his wine.

“Can you promise me?” I sort of blurted out.

He glanced up, pausing with a soft slice of blue cheese in midair. It went limp in his grasp.

I bit my lip. “I’m not asking you to promise me you’ll live forever, but can you promise me you’ll do your absolute best to give me the next forty-four years of your life?”

Something softened in his gaze, and he set down the cheese again, sucked the remains from the edge of his thumb, and pushed back his chair.

He patted his thigh. I obeyed wordlessly and eagerly, and I sat down sideways across his lap.

Then he cupped my face in his hands. “You’re the love of my life, Cam.”

That was also supposed to be reassuring.

“Everything I do is to make sure we have a very long future ahead of us,” he murmured.

Dammit. He was wrong! He was killing himself!

Worry gripped my chest. You couldn’t chase the horizon without walking the terrain to get there. You had to swim the oceans, climb over mountains, wade through swamps, and cross deserts.

Master pulled me in for a kiss, and I felt so pathetic. His need for me stripped me of power at a time I should stand my ground and fight for us. I wanted to trust him so badly; I wanted to give in and just let him lead the way. And I caved…not because I believed in him but because I was desperate and fucking weak.

Part of me wondered if I was throwing myself into the heat of the moment because I was collecting memories to look back on one day when he was no longer with us.

Fuck.

My own thought process made me sick.

I could just be overreacting, right? Who was I to know? I wasn’t a damn doctor. Maybe he could handle it.

Our kiss grew heated, and I sensed what he needed. He was a drug that way. He snapped his fingers, and I came running.

Food could wait.

Before I knew it, he picked me up and sat me on the edge of the table, and he kissed me forcefully as I undid his belt.

“Who owns you?”

“You, Master.”

He grabbed my jaw tightly, forcing me to shift my gaze higher to meet his, and my breath hitched in my throat. The burning intensity in his eyes shot hope through me, but could I trust it? Just because he believed something didn’t make it right. Did it? He did believe, though. He believed in himself, in us, and that we had all the time in the world, merely because that was what he demanded.

Without breaking eye contact, without releasing my jaw, he used his free hand to fish something out of his pocket, presumably a packet of lube from his wallet. Then he handed it to me, and I took over.

I opened it and poured some into my hand, and he guided it to his hard cock.

“Who’s your world?” he whispered.

I sucked in a breath and wrapped my fingers around him. “You, Master.”

Something softened in his heated gaze, and he dipped down and kissed me gently. “And you’re mine.” Next, he inched back and began removing my clothes, and I had nothing to say. I couldn’t. I knew he meant every word he said; I just couldn’t lean on them.

But I was too desperate to cockblock myself with reality and shoulds.

Once I was naked, he told me to lie down on the table, and I obeyed. My back hit the cold, gleaming wooden surface, and he pulled up my legs.

“Hug your knees to your chest,” he commanded quietly. “You know what I need.”

Oh fuck yeah, he got so deep in this position. To the point where it hurt and I felt him for hours afterward. But for him, this was when I became his sex object. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a sound, I didn’t use my arms and legs, I didn’t touch him back. I just took his cock and existed for him.

With my hands clasped around my knees, hugging them tightly to my chest, I braced myself for his perfect cock.

I clenched my jaw at the first brush of the head of his cock against my sensitive skin. Right there, at the opening, he spread the fluids around and made me clench down at nothing.

“I know you’re worried, Cam,” he murmured, never looking away from my ass, “but I’m not letting you go. Ever.” With that said, he started pushing inside me, and he didn’t stop. Slowly but surely, he filled me, and his expression flooded with satisfaction.

I stifled a whimper and pushed back as much as I could, needing all of him buried deep inside me, no matter how much it stung at first. He stretched my hole and exhaled a groan when he was all in, and my breath suddenly came out in shallow puffs.

“You know who you are, slave,” he said huskily.

I’m Master’s little fuck pillow.

His hands roamed my body, how I’d folded myself in half for him. Nothing sticking out—I was just his little pillow.

He fucked me in long, deep strokes that pushed the outside world out of my mind, including most of my worries. I lived for this very moment. I existed for his pleasure and the high it brought me to be the only one in the universe to give it.

I suppressed every moan, every cry, and every plea, causing myself to nearly implode with ecstasy. Over and over, as he fucked me up the table, then yanked me back down, in and out, in and out.

Every now and then, he ghosted his hand between my legs and over my cock, and it took all my strength not to arch my back in a silent plea for more.

“My little pillow appears to be needy,” he murmured. “Such a sweet cock it has.”

Hnnghh.

I screwed my eyes shut and smashed my lips together, and I flushed all fucking over.

Just like that.

Oh my God, he was going to kill me. He stopped teasing me and stroked my cock at the same pace he fucked me, and I wasn’t sure I could keep quiet much longer. It felt so damn amazing, so overwhelmingly hot, that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Except… Fuck. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and forced myself to refocus.

This was for Master. Everything was for him. If he didn’t want me to make a sound, I would be silent. If he didn’t want me to move, I would be still. So I took everything he gave me, and I took it quietly. Pleasure rushed through me, faster and faster, dropping lower and lower in my body, but a sense of tranquility followed like aloe on a burn.

You’re everything, Owner. Take what you want. I will obey, always.

“Fuck,” he growled, speeding up. Skin slapping against skin, his fingers digging into my hip, the others wrapped around my cock, he chased both our orgasms.

Moments later, I was fucking soaring. Bursts of come shot from me as shivers of both hot and cold washed over me. My mouth popped open in a silent scream, and goose bumps appeared across my arms and legs.

Master’s groan rocked through me, and he pushed in once, twice, three more times. Then he grew still deep within me and panted heavily.

With the gentlest, most sensual touch, he slid his hands up my legs and let me stretch them out—or rather, he wrapped them around his waist.

I shuddered violently.

He did my arms next. He brought them around his neck and dropped breathless kisses along my chest.

“My lovely little slave,” he whispered.

As if I hadn’t shivered enough!

I swallowed hard and wriggled against him, and he withdrew his cock.

“Come here.” He gathered me in his arms, and I lifted off the table. “Change of plans. A quick shower, and then we’re eating in bed.”

I plastered myself to him and buried my face against his neck. “I love you, Owner.”

I need you forever.

“I love you more, my property.”