Florentine Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  By Mazarin Stone

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Florentine

  By Mazarin Stone

  Mahiro became a professional figure skater for one reason—to be near the object of his lust from the time he was a teenager, Alex Breschi. But he never advanced far enough for Alex to notice him. Now Alex is retired from skating and working as a thriller author, while Mahiro gracefully bowed out of competition years before to become a successful app developer and practicing Dom in New York City.

  Reality and fantasy collide at a penthouse play party when Mahiro meets his idol. Alex is researching a book, and he wants to learn more about the lifestyle. In fact, he wants to be trained as a submissive. By Mahiro.

  Mahiro knows it’s a terrible idea. He’s hardly objective, and Alex is a novice. Still, all those years of longing shatter his reserve, and he cannot refuse to have the man of his dreams in his hands. Alex will certainly notice him now, and since Alex is returning to Russia in a few months, Mahiro can have some fun without divulging his past… or his obsession. What does he have to lose?

  Just his heart.

  To my husband and my son, who put up with months of hearing me say “I’m going to go write” and disappearing into my bedroom or into my headphones. Thank you.

  To my original first reviewers and technical consultants, Liz and A.N.D., who made sure that everything I came up with rang true on the page.

  To my community, who believed in me and never let me talk myself down.

  Author’s Note

  WHILE EVERY effort has been made to make this story as accurate as possible and respectfully reflect the practice, Florentine is not a BDSM manual. Every Dom and every sub have their own way of playing, and every person has their own limits, tastes, and kinks. Safe, Sane, and Consensual are critical bywords if you choose to practice. Happy playing!

  Chapter 1

  MAHIRO TAPS a flogger against his thigh in the soft, warm light of Rena’s most recent acquisition: a Tribeca loft that was part of a silk garment factory, now gutted and restored, and home to the biggest BDSM play party of the year.

  It’s a gorgeous place, exposed brick and floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows, sparkling with candlelight and the murmur of a hundred enthralled voices. There are various small groups talking, eating, laughing; some sitting by the feet of others, some led on a leash, some being kissed, touched, wrapped around another’s body. But the most dominating feature by far is a thin, dark-haired, tattooed man lashed by his ankles and wrists to a St. Andrew’s cross stationed in the middle of the room.

  And he’s waiting for Mahiro’s particular ministrations.

  “Color?” Mahiro murmurs near his ear.

  “Green.”

  “Good.” Mahiro swings out with the soft suede until the tails snap against the man’s thigh with a gentle swish. The man breathes out a sigh, and Mahiro narrows his eyes at the light pink swath left in his wake. Not enough, honestly. Adrian is well capable of more, but Rena specifically told him to keep the demo a bit tame to not scare off any newcomers. So he flips the tails out again and barely snaps Adrian’s other leg, then his back, careful to only mark one area at a time until his entire back and upper thighs are turning a beautiful dusky rose.

  Mahiro assesses. Adrian’s hard and sweating already, wound up, on edge much faster than Mahiro’s experienced in the past from him, but performing for an audience can be nerve-wracking.

  Mahiro knows this all too well.

  So he snaps Adrian on the ass, making him twitch and swear and pull on his restraints.

  Mahiro wanders close, drags his nails over Adrian’s ass and up his back until he can lean close again. “Color?”

  “Green, sir, please,” he whispers, and drops his head back down, chin against his chest.

  Got it. Mahiro steps back and swings the flogger again, a long, full-armed stroke that is perfectly calculated to leave a nice welt rising on the crest of his ass: a little lasting reminder for Adrian during the day tomorrow. Adrian moans his approval, and the sound goes straight to the pleasure center in Mahiro’s brain, bringing him the rush he craves, he needs, a flash of power that suffuses his entire body with deliberate, erotic purpose.

  He glances out at the audience as he stalks around Adrian’s helpless body. Usually the crowd fades mercifully into the background at times like this, but here they’re pressed much closer than he’s accustomed to. He sees a few familiar faces, a few friends, and as he reaches the side of the crowd, he catches Chris Worthington’s eye. He’s leaning casually against a pillar, shirtless as usual and oddly collarless tonight. He winks and Mahiro tries not to roll his eyes. On the prowl, then. But as he turns away, he catches a glimmer of rather familiar platinum hair right at Chris’s shoulder.

  Mahiro startles and almost drops the flogger.

  Because the man standing next to Chris, the man leaning ever so slightly forward with an absolutely rapt look on his face, is none other than the star of Mahiro’s more lewd fantasies, inspiration for his first, rather desperate choice of career, and a face that still smiles at him from a poster he keeps folded up in his desk and only looks at when he’s feeling particularly bad about himself.

  Retired figure skating legend Alex Breschi.

  Mahiro turns around quickly and walks up to Adrian, uses the pretense of checking the welt he left as an excuse to catch his breath. He’s not sure how long he takes until he hears a quiet, concerned “Sir? Is everything okay?”

  Shit. Mahiro needs to get his head together. Adrian is in his care. He can’t lose focus. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you, okay? Let’s get finished here and maybe we can set something up for next week, just the two of us.”

  Adrian nods and smiles. At least he smiles until Mahiro refocuses, takes aim, and snaps the flogger against his ass again.

  ADAM CATCHES up with him as soon as the scene is over and Adrian’s aftercare is handled. Mahiro left him resting on a sofa in the quiet room with a few other subs and happily downing a slice of cake, cheerful and forgiving of Mahiro’s momentary lapse in concentration. Mahiro, however, isn’t quite as happy with himself as he cleans his toys and repacks them in his bag.

  “What the hell, Mahiro?” Adam says, dropping down on the floor next to him. “You utterly zoned out. Did you almost safeword or something?”

  “No, Jesus, Adam, I didn’t safeword. I just—” Mahiro viciously shoves his riding crop into his bag. “You won’t believe who’s here.”

  “Who? Oh God, don’t tell me Dylan’s here. He’s such a twatwaffle. I swear I’m about to yank that chain he keeps Isabella on right out of his hand the next time he—”

  “No, Adam, God. No. It’s worse.”

  “Worse than Dylan?”

  “I kid you not, Chris is here with… with Alex Breschi.”

  Adam stares in utter stunned silence.

  “Adam? Did you hear me? I said—”

  Adam waves his hand at Mahiro’s face to silence him. “Yes, I know what you said; I’m just struggling to process. As in the Alex Breschi. The figure skating legend. The one you have had a boner for your entire life. The one you took up professional figure skating to impress. The one who writes books now. That one.”

  “Would you shut up! Yes. That one.” Ma
hiro tries to whisper, but the constant hum of people makes it impossible to be heard without raising his voice a little. “I don’t understand. Why is he here?”

  Adam looks hilariously confused by the question. “Uh, why are we all here?”

  Mahiro feels a pair of arms slide around his shoulders from behind and a stubbly kiss on his cheek. “Why are we all here, Adam darling? To be taught a very special lesson, right, Mahiro?” Chris purrs into his ear. Mahiro swats him away and feels panic spiral up in his stomach.

  “You never learned any lesson I tried to teach you, brat,” Mahiro says, and focuses on finishing putting his equipment in his bag so he doesn’t have to turn around to see the person he absolutely knows is standing there as well. He takes a deep breath and makes himself straighten and stand up. He finally turns, and of course he’s absolutely correct.

  Alex. In all his perfect, glorious flesh, complete with those devastating blue eyes and a pair of slick dark jeans. His platinum hair is styled perfectly in a swooped, long fade, and Mahiro is about to melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the room.

  That is, until he remembers who and where he is.

  He’s no swooning teenager staring at posters on his wall. He’s an adult, a practicing Dominant, and Alex is in his house now.

  So he takes a deep breath and snags Chris under the chin with his finger and tips his head back to give his neck an exaggerated inspection.

  “My, my, my. Brazen. Anyone would think you were out looking for a keeper, Christopher.” Mahiro casually hooks his thumb into Chris’s mouth to tilt his head back down. Chris winks and, as expected, sucks lightly on it.

  “You’re the only keeper I’d have ever wanted, cheri,” he says. “But alas, you and I, as two ships passing in the night. But I’m being incredibly rude. I want you to meet a friend of mine, from my skating days. Alex. This is his first time at a party, so be extra nice, okay?” Mahiro has Breschi, his last name is Breschi on a constant loop in his head as Chris smiles and pulls Alex forward a touch. “Alex, this is Mahiro and Adam. Two of the most adorable and fierce Doms in the game.”

  Mahiro snickers, wipes his damp thumb on his pants, and holds his hand out, never more glad in his life that he never made it past a single appearance at a Grand Prix series event six years ago and is allowed this shred of anonymity. Alex looks interested and amused and doesn’t hesitate to shake Mahiro’s hand.

  “Hi!” he chirps. “Nice to meet you both. Chris has told me a lot about you. Your demo earlier was fascinating.”

  Mahiro can feel his face go a touch pink. “Thanks. Adrian’s fun. He likes showing off, too, so that makes things a bit simpler.”

  “He’s easy, you mean,” Adam says, cutting in. “I’m about to go get a drink, now that we’re finished for the night. Do you guys want to come with?”

  Chris nods. “Yes, please. Alex’s here for a reason, and it sort of involves you both.”

  Adam looks at Mahiro and Mahiro just shrugs, bewildered; it’s not like he’s got some magical insight into Chris’s head. They collect drinks and find some open seats on the balcony. Mahiro settles into a squashy, low-slung chair and breathes in the soft spring air, taking a moment to settle the butterflies that threaten to erupt.

  “So, what’s going on?” Adam says. “I didn’t even realize you were in town.”

  Chris takes a long drink, pauses, and then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks serious, contemplative, and a bit unsure. “Like I’d miss this party. But really, I need a favor. Well, it’s not my favor, but I promised Alex I’d talk to you and see. Alex is writing a book, a murder mystery where a submissive is killed by her Dom.”

  Mahiro and Adam both recoil. “Oh hell no. No way,” Adam says. “It was bad enough after the Clarendon murder; I don’t need another book about murderous Doms, for the love of fuck, Chris.”

  Chris sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Mahiro looks at Alex, who is biting his lip and still hasn’t said anything. “See, I told you they’d react that way,” Chris says and shrugs at Alex. “You’d better explain it.”

  “Okay. Well.” Alex scoots forward on his chair. “I’ve known Chris a long time, and I know he’s into this, and I think it’s really fascinating. I had an idea a few months back, about a murder that people think is a BDSM relationship gone terribly wrong—you have to admit it makes for a good novel. So I thought I’d write the story of an investigation into the murder, and how the investigator is pulled deeper and deeper into the scene and realizes there’s no possible way the murderer was an actual Dom, and finds the murder was a homicidal sociopath who insinuated himself into the community and was never actually a real Dominant at all.”

  Adam sits back and looks skeptical. Mahiro’s pretty sure he looks the same, but it’s not the first time someone hasn’t understood. Alex looks pretty sincere, so Mahiro decides to humor him for a bit.

  “How much of our lifestyle do you really know, though? What you’ve heard from Chris, or read on the internet? Have you ever been in a scene, or anything like it?”

  Alex brightens up at Mahiro’s questions in a way that portends bad things, he’s sure of it. “Not even once! So that’s what I was hoping to find out!” he says, enthusiastic and smiling. “I want to learn how to be a submissive. How to get into my victim’s head, to understand her motivations and how she could have fallen for his tricks, and how a real Dom is supposed to behave. That’s why Chris thought of you two.”

  Mahiro’s nods calmly, considering, while internally screaming about what he’s just heard. Alex wants to be a submissive. He wants one of them to teach him. He wants to be trained.

  Mahiro needs to remember to breathe.

  “Nope,” Adam says. “I’m out. I don’t train subs. I don’t have the time or patience for that nonsense.”

  Mahiro then knows Adam is the very best friend he could ever have, because what just came out of his mouth is a flat-out lie and three of them at this little chat know it.

  “Come on, Mahiro. You know it’ll be fun,” Chris says, and his smile is teasing, almost salacious. “I promise he’s legit.”

  “He doesn’t have the inclination, though,” Mahiro says, and it sounds weak even to his own ears.

  Chris laughs. “You sure about that?”

  Alex turns pleading eyes on him, deep blue in the spring twilight, and says “Please?” in the sweetest voice Mahiro could possibly imagine, and he knows he’s done. Imagines it with just a bit more of an edge, a plea for more as Mahiro lovingly ties him up from neck to ankles, red ropes against pale porcelain skin, suspended and ready to be treated in any way Mahiro sees fit.

  This is a terrible idea.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” he says instead.

  Alex beams. Adam laughs. And Chris, that asshole, looks much more smug than he has any right to.

  Yeah. A really, really terrible idea.

  It’s going to be great.

  Chapter 2

  ALEX CHECKS the address once again, straightens his collar, and smooths down his hair. He paces a couple of steps across the stoop, stops, lifts his hand to knock on the glossy black door of Mahiro and Adam’s brick town house, and pauses. Again.

  He’s almost positive he’s gotten in way over his head. He told Chris so several times, each time the hysteria mounting higher and higher, culminating in a small meltdown in his kitchen less than an hour before he was to leave.

  “This is crazy!” he snapped at Chris. “You’re asking me to put myself into the hands of a perfect stranger, to let him… I don’t know what! Slap me, or hurt me, or, or, fuck me! He’s going to want to fuck me, isn’t he?”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to do anything. Remember, this was entirely your idea, mister writer man. The real experience, you said, and well, I’m giving it to you, all wrapped up in a hot little package. He might want to fuck you; he might not. I know he’s fucked me, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the point.”

 
Alex raked his hands through his hair. “But you know what you’re doing!”

  “That’s what he’s going to teach you, mon chaton. How to know, and how to please him.” Chris walked over and pulled Alex’s hands from his hair. “Trust me, Alex. Trust him. I know you don’t know him, but I do. He’ll be sure you’re comfortable before anything happens. I swear. And when you do please him, there’s nothing like it in the world. Believe me, I saw the look on his face when you met. He would like nothing more than to make you beg for it. You’ve got his attention, Alex, and that’s rare enough. His partners are few and very select.”

  Alex chuckled ruefully, his fear subsiding somewhat. “Do you really think he found me… attractive? At all? Because he’s gorgeous and I don’t know if I’ll survive this if I can’t make him at least feel something. I mean, he’s got to get some satisfaction out of it, right?”

  Chris just hugged him and rubbed a calming hand over his back. “If you don’t come out of this with him eating out of the palm of your hand, then I never knew you at all.”

  Alex blows out a breath, grips his courage with both hands, and knocks. There are a few moments of silence, then a scrabbling of door locks, and Alex braces himself as the door swings open.

  Mahiro. Standing there in perfectly ordinary jeans and a deep blue T-shirt, barefoot, and his hair is soft and tousled over his forehead, not slicked back like it was the other week. And he’s wearing glasses.

  “Hi,” he says, giving Alex a bit of a perplexed look. “Are you all right?”

  Alex snaps himself out of his own head. He’s being rude. “Yes! Sorry, I was just. Um. You just look… ah. Different than last week.”

  Mahiro giggles and the sound is delightful. “Well, yes, of course. What did you expect? Leather and chains?” He gestures Alex into the hall and begins to lead him toward the back of the house.