The Deeper He Hurts (6 page)

The rasping cut of Sawyer's breaths accelerated, his muscles tensing until Ash lifted his fingers away from the scar. Another shudder raked through Sawyer, the reverberations tingling over Ash.

He wrapped his arm around Sawyer's waist and held on, prepared to be tossed off, but it didn't come. Sawyer stood stoic, his battle internalized behind his defenses. The power it took to rein in his anger, his hurt, his pain intrigued Ash and lit him up.

He grabbed Sawyer's dick, worked it back to fully hard. His own erection was as hard as ever and he ground it into Sawyer's ass. Pleasure burned through his groin to feed on the excitement coursing through him, on the adrenaline that ignited and pushed him on.

“You're going to come,” he told Sawyer, adamant.

Sawyer rolled his shoulder and thrust back. “Fuck off.”

“No.” He flicked the switch, aiming and hitting that brutalized inner thigh area Sawyer seemed to favor. “Unless you safeword.”

A low, angry growl was Sawyer's reply. Still not giving in. Not admitting to a weakness or a breaking point. Stubborn bastard.

Stubborn, infuriating, gorgeous, strong bastard.

Ash tightened his grip and increased the pace of his strokes, peppering more hits to Sawyer's thigh. His resistance trembled into Ash, the vibrations like tiny notes of need and denial that harmonized with everything he craved.

Friction hampered his hand, the skin beneath it catching now and again. Sawyer's grunts blended with moans until the delicious mix of pleasure and pain collided in an intoxicating blend. He longed to whip his dick out and sink into Sawyer's ass, to grind down and pound in until Sawyer begged for mercy or release.

He settled for sinking his teeth into that spot on his neck, the flavor of sweat and man tempting his tongue and firing him more.

Sawyer jerked, hips jolting forward, and Ash landed a hard, punishing strike down his inner thigh. Sawyer's mouth opened, neck tensing until the cords stood out, every muscle pulled tight down the front of Ash's length.

“Let go,” Ash whispered. “Give it to me.”

“Why?” The question was gritted out around a tense jaw, air sucking through his nose.

“Because you can.” It was as simple and complex as that.

Sawyer grunted again. Twitched, rocked, and shook his head, resisting when he was doomed to fail. The struggle was fascinating to feel, the experience unique and almost overwhelming for Ash. His sadist clamored for more, to push and incite and demand Sawyer give him everything when he had no right to demand anything.

Sawyer's roar was muted but forceful, back bowing as he came, each spasm and shot of come shooting out almost against his will. The anger shoved at Ash. The pain, mixed with relief and the subtle sign of surrender, reached in and eased his fever to a warm burn.

He slowed his hand when Sawyer finally stilled, sagging into the tree, legs shaking but holding. He tilted his head to rest against Ash's, his chest expanding with each long pull of air. The urge to hold him tighter, to catch him when he fell was so strong Ash almost stepped away. Almost. He wouldn't drop him, though. Or leave him hanging when he'd given so much.

He pressed a kiss to Sawyer's jaw, the stubble rough on his lips. “That was gorgeous,” he praised. He never held back on the truth.

Sawyer jerked his jaw away, sniffed. He swallowed, the action audible in the hushed aftermath before he straightened, each motion pulling him away.

“You a…didn't have to do that.”

“I didn't have to do any of this,” Ash countered, not letting him go. He'd dropped the switch at some point and had both arms wrapped around Sawyer, one hand splayed over his heart. The solid beat was decelerating, but it still pounded out the confirmation of what they'd just shared.

Sawyer scraped his palms around the sides of the tree until his hands rested before his face. He lowered his forehead onto them, his sigh escaping in a deep swoosh.

“Thank you.”

The soft words held a gratitude that spoke of honesty. Ash stroked his abdomen, a soothing glide after the intensity. He kissed Sawyer's shoulder, his lips grazing over the ridges of his teeth marks. Would it bruise?

He found the fresh welts on Sawyer's thigh, each thin stripe settling into him in a satisfying hum as he touched them. They'd burn tomorrow.

One last inhale, the sweet scent overtaking the bitter, a husky musk overpowering both. He held it in, logged it, then finally stepped back, one hand steadying on Sawyer's hip.

“Are you okay to stand?”

“Yes.”

Ash gave him room and backed off when he had the uncomfortable desire to hold him again. But Sawyer didn't seem to want to be cuddled or coddled and he respected that. The scene was done, and pushing his boundaries now would be rude and assholeish.

He stayed close though, watching for fatigue and unabashedly admiring the vision Sawyer presented. Strong buttocks and thighs supported by sculpted calves. Even in the dark it was easy to see his strength.

There was no visible sign of blood on the thigh he'd abused, which was good. He hadn't intended to strike that deeply and blood play required a level of sterilization the woods clearly lacked. Most likely, Sawyer would have some nice bruises tomorrow and a lot of tender spots.

The chill of the night finally penetrated his senses and he shivered, the perspiration cooling quickly on his nape. Sawyer would feel it soon, get chilled. Ash searched for Sawyer's clothes, collecting his discarded shirt. His shorts were still corralled around an ankle, his sandal a bounce from Ash's jacket.

Sawyer finally turned, head bowed, shoulders rising with each slow breath. His hair hung around his face in tangles that Ash wanted to brush away. He didn't though, instead handing over his shirt.

Sawyer dressed in silence, low grunts sounding as he hitched his shorts up and slipped his sandal on. His first step was more of a lurch.

“Shit.” He listed to the side and Ash was there, a hand on his arm to hold him steady. He shook his head, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “I'm going to feel this tomorrow.”

Pride burned through Ash's chest. He'd done that to him. “Good.”

They shared a smile of understanding, his face close enough to discern the subtle softness. Relaxed now and open. Maybe too drained to hide anything. The glimpse of honesty took Ash's breath away.

“I hope this doesn't affect my employment.”

A single beat laugh jerked out of Ash. “Can you do your job tomorrow?”

Sawyer scowled. “Of course.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Ash squeezed his arm when the urge to kiss away his concerns reared its strange head. “Are you steady now?” Keep it light. Focus on his role and not on his desires.

Sawyer tested his weight on his abused leg, wincing. Even that little show of pain sparked a flood of pleasure through Ash.

He cleared his throat and nodded down the trail. “I'll walk you back.” Then he'd finally head home. He'd lingered here all day when there was a mountain of work waiting for him at the office. “Do you need any meds to help with the pain?”

His laugh was layered with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

That low rumble of amusement was nice too. He glanced at Sawyer, relieved his smile was still there, the tension far away. “It's my job to ask.” He took aftercare seriously.

Sawyer shook his head. “I'm good.” His gate was hitched, but each step became smoother as they walked. “The whole point of the last hour was to feel the pain. Why would I want to make it go away?”

A question only a true pain slut would ask, and one Ash wanted to analyze and pick apart until he discovered why Sawyer wanted to live in the pain.

Sawyer shifted his SUV into Park and stared at the warehouse-style building that housed the Kick headquarters, not quite certain why he was here. No, that was bullshit. He knew why he was here. What he wasn't sure about was if he
should
be here.

The weekend following his encounter with Ash had been three long days of adrenaline rush followed by nights savoring the mellow drop and ache in his leg. The rub on his ass and the constant pressure on the bottom of his foot from bracing himself in the raft all day allowed the pain to linger longer than normal.

Or maybe he'd simply willed it to.

The pain had been exactly what he'd needed to get away from the past and remind him of where he was. Where he needed to stay. The smoke had shifted north by the next morning and stayed that way. He'd still driven out first chance he'd had to the highest point he could find, just to reassure himself that the fire wasn't close.

He'd been fine the entire next week too. He'd immersed himself in the job and was finding his place within the White Salmon crew. It was a good group, not that different from the ones he'd worked with for years. The job basics were the same, the river dynamics similar, and the whitewater a consistent companion.

He rubbed his thigh, little sparks flashing when he found a few remaining sensitive spots. They barely registered, but he greedily relished each little bite.

Why had Asher followed him? Helped him?

His phone rested in the cup holder, a list of area BDSM clubs pulled up and ready. He could investigate one of them, find another sadist who didn't get under his skin so deeply.

Or all over it, either.

The closeness had thrown him off. Asher had been all around him, touching, stroking, biting, until he'd wanted to roar with the violation. But not physical. He'd had more guys fuck him with less care than Asher had stroked him off.

He'd absorbed it instead. Soaked in every touch and relished the intimacy he'd deprived himself of for so long. It'd been torturous in its briefness, and a sharp reminder of how lonely his existence was.

His leg bounced, knee hitting the keys in a jingling announcement of his indecision.
Fuck this.

He turned off the ignition and got out before he played another round of rehash and dissect the unchangeable. He grabbed the stack of PFDs out of the back and strode toward the garage entrance.

His new employee keycard worked on the first swipe, the green light flashing with the click of the lock releasing. The welcoming call of a loud beep greeted him as he stepped inside. He jerked back to glare at the buzzer over the doorway before glancing around. Sneaking in definitely wasn't an option here.

“Hey,” a voice called from the back of the garage. “I'm counting paddles. Who's out there?”

“Sawyer,” he yelled back, not recognizing the voice.

“Sawyer?” A head popped around the corner of an aisle, brows drawn in a scowl. “Oh, hey.” The guy came down the row, a smile transforming his features from fierce to welcoming. “Nice to meet you.” He off-loaded half the PFDs from Sawyer's arms and tossed them in a large bin along the wall. “Cort Thompson. Welcome to Kick.”

Sawyer dumped the rest of the life vests in the bin and rubbed the lingering dampness off his arm. “War said these needed to be repaired.” He pointed to the bin. “Some straps were wearing. A few buckles are broken.”

“Got it.” Cort scrubbed a beefy paw through his rust-colored hair. The short curls sprung from his head in a disheveled array that indicated the action was probably an unconscious habit. “I'll get to them in a bit.”

“I can do it,” Sawyer offered.

“Nah.” Cort shook his head. “It's your day off, right?” He waited for Sawyer to nod. “Thought so. Don't worry about it. Go enjoy your free time.”

Sawyer's gaze automatically tracked to the back of the garage, to the door he couldn't see. His idea of enjoyment was very different from most people's. Well, except for maybe here. He chuckled at his thoughts, covering it with a cough.

“Have you been here long?” he asked as a distraction. He recognized Cort's name as another partner, but the company website provided only brief profiles that focused on credentials.

Cort shrugged. “A few.” He braced his hands on his hips, T-shirt stretching over his muscled chest. Hell, who wasn't fit here? The job pretty much required it. Cort was lean, though. An inch or two shorter than himself, his frame sleek and agile. “Finn roped me in after I discharged.”

Military then. “Marine?”

“Ooh-rah,” he said, fist raising. He grinned.

Sawyer chuckled and punched the waiting fist with his own. “Just a civvy here.”

Cort pulled a face before he laughed. “I guess we can't all be cool.”

“Fucker,” Sawyer chided, flipping him the bird. His instant like for the nonstoic Marine was a bit of a mystery. There weren't a lot of people he warmed up to so quickly—not that he let a lot of people get that close to him.

His smile died, the easy warmth chilling. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, fingers digging into the base of his skull. Right. The ache expanded in his chest before it morphed into the numbness he preferred.

“Do you know if Asher's in?” he asked, already moving to the door that led into the office area.

“He usually is.” Cort followed him down the aisle before turning off, presumably to finish his task. “I'll probably see you around,” he called. “But I don't work the Washington rivers much.”

“No?” Sawyer paused.

“I run Hells Canyon all summer.” He flashed another toothy grin. “I'm only back to restock for our next trip. I'll be heading out tomorrow morning.”

Sawyer nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

He stepped into the main office, the air-conditioned comfort cooling his hot skin. Why was he so warm? The day was sunny but mild and nowhere close to the hot temps he was used to.

The office was empty again, and Sawyer stopped to study the action photos on the wall. War had explained what Asher had been doing with the photography software. The technology was damn cool. Mick wouldn't go for anything that fancy, but Sawyer figured there'd be a huge market for it if Asher or Kick decided to sell the technology.

And he was putting off the meeting.
Shit
. He should listen to his gut and get the hell out before he got in too deep. However deep that was.

“Do you need something?”

Asher's voice slid down his spine in a shiver so fine he simply absorbed it. His stomach tightened and he squeezed his eyes closed before putting on his game face. Or a neutral one. Normal—his normal expression.

He turned around and eyed Asher standing in the doorway to his office. Still preppy and controlled, his emotions locked down behind his own neutral expression. An equal game then. Was there a chance Asher had enjoyed their exchange enough to do it again? He wouldn't know if he bailed without saying something.

“Pain.” The single word hung between them, the meaning and intention weighted with expectancy. The cramp in his stomach eased once the word was out. He'd never shied away from his need with any other sadist. He certainly wasn't going to start now.

Asher flicked a brow up, lips twitching. He stepped back. “Let's talk.” He headed to his desk, his movements visible between the open blinds.

Talk. Negotiate? Set down rules he didn't want? Or hear a lecture on Asher's definition of limits?

His scowl pulled on his brows, annoyance simmering beneath his foolishness. He followed Asher, though, right into the office. The door clicked shut behind him when he gave it a shove. The office area might appear empty, but he wasn't taking the risk of anyone overhearing them.

But then, he hadn't been that concerned about that detail the other night. In the middle of the damn woods.

Asher sat in his leather executive chair, arms braced on the desk. His eyes were serious behind the dark frames of his glasses. “How've you been?” A spark of amusement flashed in his expression before he glanced down to study Sawyer's leg.

He swallowed. “Good.” He resisted the urge to rub his palm over the thigh Asher had focused on, refusing to give away how much he still relished it. “You?”

Asher chuckled and sat back. “What do you want, Sawyer?”

“Another go. With you.” He waited a beat. “Asher.” He settled back in his chair and mimicked Asher's relaxed pose. They were both frauds. The tension filled the room with a vibration that hummed over his skin. Awareness was a new thing to him, but he recognized it all the same. He'd been aware of Asher since their first meeting.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Asher's soft humph was more action than sound. He cocked his head. “It's not wise. The other night was an exception.”

“To what? Your rule?” He didn't wait for an answer. “We're both adults who have reciprocal kinks that work together. I don't gossip, plus I'm gone at the end of summer. No ties, no worries.” A perfect arrangement for both of them.

Asher's brows lowered, his frown contemplative. “What are you proposing?”

“Fuck,” he scoffed, tired of the negotiations. “This isn't rocket science. You fuck me up and I let you.” Asher narrowed his eyes, and Sawyer went in with his best reason. “I can handle a lot more than you dished out the other night. And I think you want that. My pain slut is your sadist's nirvana. I think we should let them play together.”

“Holy fuck.” Asher's laugh jilted the air with a full dose of humor. Head tilted back, chest rolling, he let go. It shouldn't have been amusing. Ah hell, yes it was.

Sawyer gave in and joined him, his embarrassed chuckle blending with Asher's. He covered his face, disbelief rising. That had to have been the corniest thing he'd ever said. “Shit. That was bad.”

“Seriously.” Asher tried to stifle his laugh, but it didn't work. “Horribly bad. I should beat you just for that.”

“Yes.” His laughter died. He stared at him, total seriousness dropping into his voice. “You should.”

The room went silent in the next breath, the humor falling from Asher's face. He sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring, holding in the air. Sawyer didn't breathe either. He kept his gaze steady, every muscle tense. Would Asher concede or stay firm? He'd respect whatever he decided, but for the first time ever he cared about the answer.

He
wanted
to give himself over to Asher again. Wanted to feel his pain, to relish whatever he dished out and then take more. And maybe he'd get more of his touch, too.

Asher thrust up from his chair and stalked around his desk. He blew past Sawyer without a word or glance, yanked the door open, and left.

What the hell?

He sat there stunned, watching Asher through the blinds as he ducked behind the front counter and dug around in a drawer. Then he was coming back, a hand towel with the Kick logo on it in his fist. His gaze was direct and intent when he closed the door. The click of the lock echoed through the room like a promise.

Sawyer's breath released in a slow exhale. This was good.

Asher twisted the blinds closed, cutting off sight to the outer office. He moved to the two exterior windows next and systematically closed both sets of blinds until the office was plunged into semidarkness. The overhead lights weren't on, and only dim streaks of sun leaked around the edges of the blinds.

His heart raced when Asher turned his attention to him. That alluring control had dropped into place to draw him in. It wasn't the over-the-top Dom shit he detested, either. This was confidence mixed with surety. Asher knew what he wanted and wouldn't compromise on getting it.

“You take this without the entire office knowing and we'll talk.”

Sawyer straightened. “What?” Excitement pooled in his stomach and danced with his desire.

“I know your limits.” Asher moved his chair away from the desk, voice calm. “Anything change?”

“No.” He stood and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension that'd crept across his shoulder blades.

A sinister smile slid over Asher's lips, a touch of evil intent sparking in his eyes. And didn't that just set Sawyer on fire? He almost vaulted over the damn desk to get at whatever Asher was offering.

“Red and yellow.”

“Got it.”

“You're off until Wednesday, correct?”

“Yes.”

Asher moved some papers to the side of the desk, placed a pen in the cup holder, and stepped back. He pointed at his desk. “Bend over. Ass exposed.”

He had no urge to ask what Asher planned. He should, probably. Some tops spelled out everything that was coming, either to taunt or inform. It didn't matter to him, just as long as he got the pain. Years of play meant there wasn't much he hadn't experienced.

His walk around the desk was completed in a few strides. He held Asher's gaze as he undid his shorts and lowered them to the ground along with his briefs. He paused, shot a half grin, and removed his sandals as well. The pain that'd come with every step the following day had kept his focus off the sudden absence of the damn smoke.

Asher's rough chuckle was its own reward. He'd caught the hint and hadn't gotten pissed at his directness. Another point in favor of the non-Dom aspect.

His dick hung half interested between his legs. This was never a sexual craving for him, yet he didn't deny that Asher was an attractive guy despite his too-hip, too-geeky front. Maybe because of it. He was as far from the stereotypical sadist as he could get in appearance, but this wasn't a game for him.

And it definitely wasn't a game for Sawyer.

The desk was standard height, which meant his ass was lifted high when he bent over it, his dick and balls swinging free and exposed. He widened his stance and stretched his arms over his head to grab the other side.