Beyond the Footlights Read online

  Off Stage: Beyond the Footlights

  By Jaime Samms

  Off Stage: Set Three

  Kilmer and Jacko’s relationship has been foundering for a long time. With the end in sight and despairing that he might never find a Dom who suits him, Kilmer heads to a local bar to drown his sorrows—and meets country singer Tanner.

  Tanner feels oddly protective of the broken man and eventually convinces Kilmer to hire him to help remodel the small, sad house Kilmer once shared with Jacko. As Tanner and Kilmer get to know each other, Kilmer regains his lost independence and Tanner’s dominant streak rises to the surface. But will it be a help or a hindrance to the trust they’re trying to build?

  The answer might lie in the music Kilmer gave up not long after he met Jacko. Music always granted him solace, clarity, and an outlet for his emotions, and with Tanner’s encouragement, he picks up where he left off. Playing together eases them into honest communication, and though a happily ever after will still take patience and work, taking a chance on each other sounds sweeter with every note.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Epilogue

  More from Jaime Samms

  Readers love the Off Stage series by Jaime Samms

  About the Author

  By Jaime Samms

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  For Mary, who understands my guys like no one else. Without you, more people might like Jacko, but he wouldn’t be the character he was meant to be.

  Acknowledgments

  I WANT to thank Gin and Dreamspinner. This one was a rocky ride, but we got through. Until next time!

  Thanks to Jesse, my son’s guitar teacher, for his advice on guitars and amps; Greg Trembley for helping me out with setting up my fictitious sound studio; and S.J. Frost, who has been free with her experiences owning and operating a well-adjusted horse. Their help over the course of this whole series has been invaluable.

  Thanks to my kids, who inundated me with Adam Lambert and One Direction; Grant, who introduced me to many, many varieties of music in a regrettably failed attempt to find some common musical ground (well, except maybe for some good ska); and my roots, which will always and forever be country. The soundtrack for the Off Stage books is seriously eclectic.

  Prologue

  A SPLASH of light on the front lawn greeted Kilmer as he drove up to the house. Jacko was home. After weeks and weeks of near abandonment by his Dom and lover, tonight he wasn’t returning to an empty house.

  Since Kilmer’s friend Len’s birthday party, when Kilmer had spoken out against Jacko’s opinion, he’d been in the doghouse. His Dom had sent him to sleep in the spare room, in the spare single bed. Alone. Their interactions had been limited to perfunctory greetings if they crossed paths, and Kilmer ate alone in his room whatever meal Jacko had prepared. He wasn’t welcome in Jacko’s presence, and trying to force the issue had only prolonged the isolation.

  At least Jacko still came home every night. Small consolation when he was so often out into the wee hours with no explanation.

  Kilmer parked, took a moment to steady his breathing, then emerged from the car to clomp up the front steps and let himself in.

  The kitchen was mostly dark. At the entrance to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, a lamp cast a shadowy splash over the faded linoleum. Jacko’s dog, a huge, hairy beast that didn’t like Kilmer much, lay curled in his usual spot on a mat beside the stove. Not for the first time, Kilmer wondered if Jacko had given it a name yet. He felt bad for it. Not even an animal should live in a house for the four months this one had lived here and not have a name. But it wasn’t his dog.

  After dropping his boots and sweaty socks by the door, Kilmer followed the light. His bare feet made little sound on the worn carpet of the living room and hallway.

  The bedroom door was half-closed, and Kilmer made an effort to be quiet so as not to wake Jacko. He’d hoped to get home before Jacko went to bed. Maybe they would talk today. Or maybe Kilmer had taken his time over his last chores to avoid the conversation. He didn’t know anymore if he dared have it. If he dared… anything.

  Gently he pushed the door open, trying to catch a glimpse of Jacko in his bed. He was in the room, naked and hard but not in bed. He sat in his chair by the dresser.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Kilmer had a great view of a stranger’s broad back, tight ass, and heavily muscled thighs as he straddled Jacko’s lap. He had an equally perfect view of Jacko’s erection as it slid smoothly into the guy’s body. The man’s head went back, his mouth gaped slightly as he took Jacko’s girth.

  Kilmer clamped his lips tight to hold back the groan, then the anguish. Again.

  Both men were silent as they fucked. Jacko watched the guy’s face, intent on seeing the pleasure wash over the younger man. His big hand clamped lightly over the man’s throat and his other clasped his thigh, leaving half circles of white under his fingers.

  Kilmer should leave. He should. Instead, he watched. Because what else was he supposed to do when his lover was there, fucking some other guy, using another man for the things that he should have been using Kilmer for? It was Kilmer’s place to do and be what Jacko required. His place to accept what he couldn’t be.

  So he watched.

  He felt more than saw Jacko’s attention switch to him, and he met his Dom’s gaze for a split second before dropping his back to the place the two men connected.

  Jacko slipped rough, demanding hands over the guy’s backside, parting his cheeks, offering Kilmer a better view of cock and ass joining.

  Kilmer swallowed and took a small step forward. Infinitesimal because he didn’t want to leave, or leave this guy to Jacko, but he hadn’t been given permission to get any closer. Definitely hadn’t been offered a place in the action.

  He could practically feel that rough touch on his own body. Jacko’s hands were callused in all the right ways, strong and never compromising.

  “Deeper, boy,” Jacko growled. “Come on.”

  The guy obliged, driving himself down hard. He hissed as he did it, grappling with the pain, digging his fingers into Jacko’s shoulders.

  “That’s it. Work it,” Jacko ordered, and the guy gamely rose again, drove down, rose, fucked himself frantically. His grunts lost the edge of pain and took on a deeper growl of pleasure. One of Jacko’s hands disappeared from Kilmer’s view.

  “Oh fuck!” The guy moaned and shuddered. “So… fucking… close.”

  “You want to come?” Jacko asked.

  His companion hissed sharply and jerked, his entire body stiffening. The room filled with leaden silence before the man bled out a thin “Please, Sir. Please.”

  Jacko chuckled softly, almost kindly, and moved his arm as though he was stroking the man.

  “Too much!” The man groaned thinly. “It’s too…. I can’t….”

  “Yes,” Jacko soothed, “you can, boy. Let me see.”

  “Oh! God.” The
guy slumped and then jerked upright. He cried out some shamble of sounds as he came, splashing Jacko’s chest and stomach with his jizz.

  Kilmer bit his tongue and backed out the door.

  “Come here, Boy,” Jacko said louder, pausing, then emphasizing the word boy, giving it the weight of a title. “Don’t back away. You’ve come this far.” Jacko waved Kilmer into the room. “No point backing out now. Come here.”

  Kilmer supposed he could be glad he’d at least earned an uppercase Boy. And still he hesitated.

  “You don’t have to,” Jacko assured him. “Contract doesn’t say you have to participate. Doesn’t say I can’t have a third if I want either.”

  That was true. He could join or he could walk away. He doubted either choice would change much, but joining in didn’t have to be bad. The kid was good-looking and enthusiastic. Where was the harm? He shuffled into the room.

  “You’re home,” Jacko said softly.

  Kilmer nodded.

  “Good.” Jacko tapped his trick on the thigh. “Get up.”

  The guy obeyed, rising and managing to get himself off to one side on wobbly legs. Kilmer offered a hand under his elbow until he had his feet steady under him. The guy nodded thanks and gave a small dazed smile.

  Kilmer twitched his lips, but the smile didn’t make it through the stiffness of his expression.

  “I’m a mess.” Jacko took Kilmer’s hand and caressed his fingers. With his other he dragged a finger through the mess on his stomach and held it up to Kilmer.

  Kilmer parted his lips, reluctant, but he was Jacko’s boy. He had never been wildly enthusiastic about having a third in their bed, but he’d never made it a hard limit either. Nor had he ever denied Jacko the right to play with someone else, even if Kilmer wasn’t crazy about the idea. Some people weren’t monogamous, and Kilmer had never been under any illusions about Jacko’s desire to play with others. So Kilmer had set his limits on health and safety, because that was where he could place a boundary Jacko would accept.

  If this was what he was reduced to, it was still a step up from the empty room. Maybe he’d earn a spot on the mat beside the bed. He bent enough to take the finger into his mouth.

  “Very good.” Jacko gave a nod of approval. “Clean up the rest.”

  Kilmer knelt between his knees and leaned his face close to Jacko. The scent of sweat and sex was strong on his skin. Kilmer breathed it in. The sharp knife of the sex not having been with him dug deep, but he flicked his tongue out and touched it to some of the slimy mess on Jacko, drew the stranger’s jizz into his mouth.

  Jacko’s fingers slipped into his hair and Kilmer let out a long breath. This was his place. Here at his Master’s feet. He’d missed the touch. The attention. The connection. Dutifully he cleaned the come off Jacko’s torso, closing his eyes and drawing the scent of his lover into his body.

  He didn’t entertain thoughts that Jacko might expose him to any risk he couldn’t live with. That was a trust, at least, that he knew Jacko would never break. Jacko didn’t often fuck with condoms, but he never, ever took unnecessary risks with his own health either. If Jacko was safe, Kilmer was safe.

  Jacko cupped his chin when he was done, lifting his face, looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Kilmer nodded, small, unsure.

  “Wait there a minute.” Jacko motioned behind Kilmer, and a cloth appeared for Jacko to wipe meticulously over his dick. He followed that up with a second to ensure the cleaning was thorough before he rubbed the tip over Kilmer’s lips.

  “You want?” he asked, bushy gray brows lifting.

  Kilmer licked his lips and nibbled on his lower one. He wanted. So badly. He felt the hovering of a stranger at his back, watching, waiting. He should say no. It would only go places he didn’t want to go until they were more stable again. He parted his lips and looked into Jacko’s eyes, pleading.

  God, please let him have this; it had been too long he’d gone without.

  Jacko cupped the back of his head and guided him, easing his cock into Kilmer’s mouth just an inch, just the barest hint at what he wanted. Kilmer couldn’t help the sigh that eased up his throat.

  Jacko pulled him a little farther on and Kilmer adjusted his jaw to accommodate. The taste of soap stung his tongue under the musk of come. He swallowed and wiggled, trying to get more.

  Jacko flexed his hips back just enough to pop out of Kilmer’s mouth and Kilmer gasped—very nearly sobbed—in frustration at the loss.

  When Jacko pulled him forward and thrust his hips the next time, there was no tease, no increment. Cock was forced into him hard, and he gulped down the massive invasion. He only choked a bit before he got his gag reflex under control. Drool dribbled from his lip, and he sucked.

  “Good,” Jacko crooned, breathless. “Make it good, Boy.”

  Kilmer would. Oh hell, yes. He’d make this the best damn blow job Jacko had ever had, and no other twink or bear cub would ever compare to what Kilmer had to offer. He closed his eyes and took Jacko to the root.

  He wasn’t sure if it was the hand in his hair or the cock in his mouth that did more to ease him from the discomfort of having an audience, into the space where all that mattered was pleasing his man. Blow jobs, though. They were something he was good at, always had been, and Jacko’s hiss of pleasure confirmed he was doing it right.

  “Good enough to make the kid hard again,” Jacko grumbled, voice gravelly and thick. “C’mere, kid.”

  Feet shuffled across the carpet behind Kilmer, and he wanted to see, but Jacko had a death grip in his hair and a cock down his throat.

  A shin pressed against his ribs. He thought about leaning away, but Jacko flexed his fingers, forcing Kilmer to stifle a hiss of pain at the warning. He stilled, mouth wrapped around Jacko, side pressed to the stranger’s leg.

  “Peel him outta those jeans, will you, Rocky?”

  Rocky. So he had a name. Kilmer didn’t have one here, now. In this place, he was Boy. He shuffled his knees back and lifted his ass off his heels to give Rocky access to his jeans. He was the one without a name. Only a place and a function that was about the other two men getting off. It was good enough. It had to be for now. It was all he had, and he’d gone too long with nothing.

  At least the kid—Rocky—was gentle as he reached around and undid Kilmer’s belt and jeans. He pried the stiff, dusty denim from Kilmer’s body, peeled it down over his ass, and played with the black leather cock ring revealed once jeans and underwear had been hauled to his knees. He didn’t wear the ring at work, but he always put it on before he came home. Just in case.

  Kilmer moaned and gulped convulsively until Jacko told the guy to stop teasing him. It was torture. But it was also touch. Something he’d been denied for what felt like ever.

  Jacko cupped Kilmer’s jaw, lifting slightly so Kilmer got the hint and looked up into his eyes. “Poor Rocky’s got a stiffy again. We’ll have to do something about that, yes?”

  Kilmer didn’t know how to respond. No sprang first to mind. Then Rocky caressed his ass and he felt the scrape of calluses, the warmth of human contact, and he blinked. Hands just as strong as Jacko’s parted his cheeks and hot breath ghosted over his hole. He made a sound in his throat of pure need, and lifted into the sensation, suddenly unwilling to deny himself what pleasure he could find here.

  “Gimme your hand, Boy,” Jacko’s usually cool eyes offered a caress of emotion Kilmer hadn’t seen in so long. He lifted one hand to rest palm up on Jacko’s knees.

  “Here you go. You know what this is for?” He pressed a small bell into Kilmer’s hand.

  Kilmer nodded.

  “Good boy.” Jacko curled Kilmer’s fingers around the bell and looked at Rocky. “That’s his safety. That bell rings or hits the floor, you step away. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Rocky said, voice calm, soft as the touch of his breath.

  “Good, then.” Jacko’s attention came back to Kilmer. “We’re good here?”

  Kilmer nodded ag
ain. Anything to get that sweet look on him again.

  Jacko nodded in turn and threaded his fingers back into Kilmer’s hair, guiding Kilmer’s head close and his dick deep. As he worked to give what his demanding Master wanted, the hands on his ass were only periphery. It didn’t matter that this stranger was touching and taking. It only mattered that Jacko was accepting his service.

  When the first finger breached him, he barely shifted. The second was a flutter on his radar, and he moaned around Jacko’s cock but lifted his backside for more. Because whatever it was he had to take from Rocky, it came with Jacko’s touch as well.

  “You good with this?” Jacko asked him, cupping his chin again.

  Kilmer gazed up at him. No. But yes. He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t dare stop what he was doing to reply. He groaned as Rocky’s fingers kneaded his ass hard, and a flutter of apprehension danced through him.

  Jacko’s eyes narrowed. His lips thinned. Displeasure maybe?

  Kilmer closed his eyes. Jacko would see the uncertainty there. He fell back to his job and sucked at his Master’s dick until his fingers fell away from Kilmer’s jaw and cupped the back of his head.

  The third finger stretched him and Kilmer whined around Jacko, breath hissing out. He couldn’t draw another as Rocky began to thrust in and out. Kilmer struggled to keep his attention on task, but it was harder and harder to do as Rocky curled his fingers and found that sweet torture inside Kilmer’s body.

  Rocky hammered relentlessly, and Kilmer’s hips jerked, his body convulsed around the sensation. Finally he dragged in a breath only to have it forced away again as Rocky prodded.

  Too much, too much, too much. Kilmer panted and gasped and felt every nerve ending light on fire. The edge of the bell bit into his palm. He thought about uncurling his fingers. Thought about dropping it. Thought about stopping.

  And then Rocky’s fingers were gone.

  He was empty. Bereft. Only very vaguely did he note the sound of squelching lube; then came blunt pressure.

  The cock—that was a stretch. An enormous stretch. His body screamed, his mind whited out. The burn shivered white-hot up his spine, seared his brain.