The sun slowly rises, shining brightly through the narrow window. The rays catch on the bars and, for a few moments, the gunmetal gray glows like copper. Every morning, for the last six years, has been exactly the same. But, today is different. Today is the day I step into the warm sunlight, a new man. A stronger man. A man with power. It’s time to take charge and claim what’s mine.
When I arrived here, I was eighteen, scared and angry at the same time. I knew I’d been set up and I knew by whom. I simply couldn’t believe he went through with it. Word quickly spread that I, the son of the Big Gun, had arrived in prison. Rocco Valentine’s eldest son, his right-hand man, had been found guilty.
I understand why he did it. He was angry with me. I wasn’t the man he thought I was, the man he had molded me to be. He had no room in his empire for a queer—a faggot, or any other name he could think of calling me.
I survived in here because of one man, a man who became my father. Salvatore Moretti. He received a life sentence and knew it meant exactly that. He would die in prison. He also knew I was innocent, but that didn’t mean shit in this place. He was the first person to greet me as he crowded my cell. He filled it, not only with his size—and he’s a huge motherfucker—but with his presence. I knew of him, - he was my father’s rival, and even from within these oppressive, confined walls, he - ruled his domain outside.
“Welcome, Santiago. You are no saint, after all.” His lips turn up in a wolf-like grin before he steps closer and holds his arms out to me.
“I have no fucking clue how to survive this, and it’s just Santo now.” I say the first thing that comes to my mind, and it’s the dumbest sentence ever. Way to show your weakness, Santo.
“Santo, you just stick with me. I’ll see you right. No fucker will touch you while you are with me. I own this place and I run it with an iron fist.” He embraces me. “We will get along just fine, young man. Your father is a fool if he thinks he can get away with this.”
“How do you know?” I look at him askance.
“Santo, I know everything. Now, come, let me introduce you to my men. You are safe here.”
Over the years, he proved it. Then, after three years, he came to me with something more than merely protection. He came and taught me a skill I never knew existed. He showed me the way to use a man’s body. I never hid my sexuality from him. I didn’t need to; he knew. He unleashed something inside me, so real and so pure. I remember it vividly.
Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I gasp. It’s past midday! I guess I really did need to sleep, to forget. I need to get him out of my head and out of my system, and I know exactly the way to do it.
“Master Michael, it’s Ezra.” I keep my voice low, subservient.
“Ezra, my boy, it’s been a while.” The deep resonance of his voice has my dick twitching and my asshole clenching.
“It has, Sir, and I’m sorry. Can I see you tonight?”
“You want a session, boy?”
“Yes, Sir. I need it.”
“Do you now? Is that the way you speak to me?”
“No, Sir, I’m sorry.” I feel the heat on my cheeks as I flush, embarrassed.
“Good boy. I will see you at ten p.m. Be prepared.”
“I will be. Thank you, Sir.”
Tension drains from my body immediately. Even the thought of handing control over to him tonight relaxes me. Grateful for having the day off, I take my time preparing for him.
Making some breakfast, the thrum of excitement builds in my body. The thought of the flogger as it stings my skin brings goose bumps up over my skin. My fingers inch down to my cock, but I hesitate, refusing to give in to my desires. I know how good it will be tonight.
Lazing around, I watch shit daytime TV until it’s time to get ready. I take my time shaving my body. Master Michael likes me completely hairless. I clean my ass out, knowing he will check before he starts. The shivers run over my body as I finally attach the final part of my preparation. My cock cage.
Sighing softly, I step into my sweat pants—keeping them loose enough so they don’t leave marks on my waist—and throw on a baggy hoodie to cover my chest. Picking up my backpack, I make sure I’ve got everything I need. Then it’s time to go. I feel like a coiled spring, wound up and eager to get started.
Driving into the club’s private parking lot, I see it’s pretty full. I smile and wonder if the Master wants a public scene tonight. I like it when he wants to show me off. No, scrap that. I love it when I’m on display for everyone.
Wonderfully funny . . . good plotting, judiciously dropped clues, and a luminescent turn of phrase --Kirkus Lively
