brought with him, and put it over Gavin’s shoulders. The shirt hung on a frame meant to hold a shirt two sizes smaller, but Aidan liked seeing it there, just as much as he liked Gavin’s attention. “I know. I’m a lot to handle.”
“You have no problem with self-confidence.”
“Nope.” Not when it came to his body. The rest of him… He didn’t like to think about.
“So what now?”
“Now we get to know each other better. Then we see if you’ve learned anything from this morning.”
Gavin nodded, which surprised him. He hadn’t thought Gavin would be agreeable to another D/s scene so soon after being angry earlier. They might actually have a shot at pulling this off come Saturday.
With that in mind, Aidan built a fire. He squatted by the fireplace and arranged kindling. Then he watched as flames took life. He turned his head and noted Gavin’s gaze on his jean-clad ass.
“Like what you see?” he teased.
“Yeah. Just wondering if anyone’s ever fucked you.”
Aidan stood and faced his partner. God, he really thought of Gavin as his partner. The team fuckup had managed to sneak under Aidan’s shields in more ways than one. With that in mind, Aidan resolved to harden his livened emotions.
“That’s quite a question.” He crossed his arms over his chest, wanting to give the impression of strength when everything inside him shied away from bad memories. Had he ever been fucked? Yeah, and beaten and nearly strangled to death. Never again.
Gavin sighed. “And not an answer. But that’s okay. I’m good at solving puzzles.” Gavin walked up to him and placed his hands on Aidan’s biceps.
The contact sizzled. Everything faded but Gavin’s touch.
He wasn’t the only one affected. Gavin’s erection grew as he watched.
“I want to show you something. Can I kiss you…Master?”
* * * *
Carl Kerr stared into the fireplace, hoping for answers. He’d spent the better part of last month’s earnings on Polski’s resourcefulness. Now he had the answer to his biggest problem. Except the fucking book meant nothing to him. He’d had it authenticated out the ass. Yes, it was several hundred years old. Yes, it belonged to the Stallbridge family, who had carved a nice little niche in the world of finances. And yes, Owen Stallbridge wanted it back.
But why?
Ignoring the muffled groans from the corner, he looked from the fire to the book and frowned. The cover was unremarkable. Tattered leather, some faded gold-embossed letters. Inside was much the same. An unremarkable story about love lost and found lined the antique pages. Some sexual drawings, a hierarchy of Stallbridges and the families they’d married into. A weird little book that wanted to be the Kama Sutra but came across as a bad edition of perversions and nonsense about men and women with weird brain types. More than half the material meant little to him. But Stallbridge wanted it, according to the price tag he’d attached to Chronicles . Kerr frowned. What could Stallbridge want with such an unremarkable book?
A careful inspection of the binding and cover showed no tampering. Nothing had been stuffed inside. No codes or coordinates. No hidden secrets that Carl could tell. The suspense was killing him. No way in hell Stallbridge wanted the book because it held sentimental value. And showing it off to the world couldn’t embarrass him. Who would give a shit about an old book written about the Stallbridges that had sexual connotations? Considering Stallbridge had never made any bones about caring what anyone thought of him, Carl couldn’t see him fearing the family exposed as perverts.
A shriek and sudden grunt took his attention. From his position on the couch, he had a front-row seat to all the entertainment in the room. The overlarge, cozy fireplace, the custom fifty-inch LED television, and the stainless-steel table on which a bloodied sex slave lay strapped and helpless while two hulking monsters abused him. Carl turned his
“You have no problem with self-confidence.”
“Nope.” Not when it came to his body. The rest of him… He didn’t like to think about.
“So what now?”
“Now we get to know each other better. Then we see if you’ve learned anything from this morning.”
Gavin nodded, which surprised him. He hadn’t thought Gavin would be agreeable to another D/s scene so soon after being angry earlier. They might actually have a shot at pulling this off come Saturday.
With that in mind, Aidan built a fire. He squatted by the fireplace and arranged kindling. Then he watched as flames took life. He turned his head and noted Gavin’s gaze on his jean-clad ass.
“Like what you see?” he teased.
“Yeah. Just wondering if anyone’s ever fucked you.”
Aidan stood and faced his partner. God, he really thought of Gavin as his partner. The team fuckup had managed to sneak under Aidan’s shields in more ways than one. With that in mind, Aidan resolved to harden his livened emotions.
“That’s quite a question.” He crossed his arms over his chest, wanting to give the impression of strength when everything inside him shied away from bad memories. Had he ever been fucked? Yeah, and beaten and nearly strangled to death. Never again.
Gavin sighed. “And not an answer. But that’s okay. I’m good at solving puzzles.” Gavin walked up to him and placed his hands on Aidan’s biceps.
The contact sizzled. Everything faded but Gavin’s touch.
He wasn’t the only one affected. Gavin’s erection grew as he watched.
“I want to show you something. Can I kiss you…Master?”
* * * *
Carl Kerr stared into the fireplace, hoping for answers. He’d spent the better part of last month’s earnings on Polski’s resourcefulness. Now he had the answer to his biggest problem. Except the fucking book meant nothing to him. He’d had it authenticated out the ass. Yes, it was several hundred years old. Yes, it belonged to the Stallbridge family, who had carved a nice little niche in the world of finances. And yes, Owen Stallbridge wanted it back.
But why?
Ignoring the muffled groans from the corner, he looked from the fire to the book and frowned. The cover was unremarkable. Tattered leather, some faded gold-embossed letters. Inside was much the same. An unremarkable story about love lost and found lined the antique pages. Some sexual drawings, a hierarchy of Stallbridges and the families they’d married into. A weird little book that wanted to be the Kama Sutra but came across as a bad edition of perversions and nonsense about men and women with weird brain types. More than half the material meant little to him. But Stallbridge wanted it, according to the price tag he’d attached to Chronicles . Kerr frowned. What could Stallbridge want with such an unremarkable book?
A careful inspection of the binding and cover showed no tampering. Nothing had been stuffed inside. No codes or coordinates. No hidden secrets that Carl could tell. The suspense was killing him. No way in hell Stallbridge wanted the book because it held sentimental value. And showing it off to the world couldn’t embarrass him. Who would give a shit about an old book written about the Stallbridges that had sexual connotations? Considering Stallbridge had never made any bones about caring what anyone thought of him, Carl couldn’t see him fearing the family exposed as perverts.
A shriek and sudden grunt took his attention. From his position on the couch, he had a front-row seat to all the entertainment in the room. The overlarge, cozy fireplace, the custom fifty-inch LED television, and the stainless-steel table on which a bloodied sex slave lay strapped and helpless while two hulking monsters abused him. Carl turned his
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