The Boxer by Alec Stark

Author:Alec Stark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2019-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

If the sun never sets, if the sky never goes dark, how do you know when one day ends and another begins? Time has no meaning. The birds are always singing somewhere far off in the distance. Or maybe it's a cricket. Do they have crickets in Finland?

Every muscle, every nerve ending... we use them all before we slump together into a dreamless sleep. When I wake with a sudden jerk, it shows the same patch of white sky that showed when we first arrived. Impossible to judge from that what time it is or even if it's day or night.

The white nights. I know exactly where I am the minute my eyes come open. That much, I'm never in any doubt about.

Jan, still lost in sleep, looks younger. I touch the corner of his eyes too softly to wake him, but he does anyway. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face when he sees me looking down at him.

I don't fully understand what the sub gets out of this. The pain, the torture, the release that comes only when I permit it. Yet I can see from the way he's glowing that he likes what he's remembering about the night before.

“Someone was here.” He points his chin, and only then do I spot the antique mahogany tea cart set up with silver serving dishes. I realize I've been smelling coffee for some time. Perhaps that's what woke me up.

American coffee. The good stuff. Not that godawful European powdered crap.

“Serve me,” I say.

Naked and flushed, red marks still visible on his back, he does. He pours coffee and juice, then lifts silver lids to allow me to select from the smorgasbord of crackers, cheeses, and sliced meats.

“Serve yourself too. I want you strong. I've got a lot of plans for you.”

He doesn't question me about those plans. Even though the scene was scheduled for only one night and into the next day. For all I know, we've slept so hard it's already the next night.

Something tells me Jan Vogel can afford me.

Something tells me Marcus has always suspected we'd go into overtime.

“I don't want to go back to the things I used to do.” Jan is pouring my second cup of coffee, which gives him an excuse to mumble the words without looking directly at me. “I'm not just saying that because the sex was good. This is something I've been thinking about for a long, long time.”

“There's a reason you're seeking this out at this stage in your life,” I say. “I mean, you've always had these fantasies. People don't wake up in their thirties and suddenly realize they have a need to submit. It's something that's always been with you.”

He nods. “I told myself it was a weakness I couldn't indulge.”

“You needed to focus on your career, I suppose.” There's a reason I end up dominating rich men, and it isn't because they can't find partners who'd do them for free. It's because money comes with complications.

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