BEACH STARED at the number. He never bothered to put caller ID in for the number, because it changed often. But he recognized the country code, the moussaka congealing into a cold lump in his belly.
Tai released his hand. “Your dad?”
Beach nodded and picked up the phone.
His father didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where the hell is the money? Why didn’t you call me back?”
“You told me never to try to contact you through my cell phone.”
“That doesn’t answer the question about the money, David.”
Tai put his hands on Beach’s shoulders, a comfortable weight urging him down. Remembering what the therapist had said about squaring off joints, Beach carefully lowered himself to his knees, sinking into the security of being Tai’s. His hand rested on Beach’s head as he leaned into Tai’s leg. Funny, David sounded so different when his dad said it. To say nothing of how hearing it felt inside. From Tai, a solid, steady warmth. From his father, a curl of shame and regret.
“Did you call Sinclair as I asked?”
“Yes, sir.” The sir to his father was as automatic as a God bless you to a sneeze. Instinct rather than the respect weighting his voice when he spoke the same words to Tai. When they were deep in that space together, Tai was Sir, guiding, controlling everything so all Beach had to do was take and feel.
“When did you call?”
“Right away.”
His father made a disgusted sound. “We all know that could mean anything with you.” Beach did prefer to put off anything unpleasant. It only seemed reasonable. Why do something distasteful if there was a chance that ignoring it would make it go away? But he hadn’t put it off this time. If calling the very next morning was in any way lacking, he knew Tai would have pointed it out.
“I called the next morning.”
“And?”
At that moment Beach envied Tai his unknown dead father. The deceased couldn’t hang a millstone of disappointment and disgust around your neck the way the living could. From Dad’s perspective, it probably appeared an easy task: convince Uncle Sinclair to loosen whatever hold he’d placed on Dad’s cash flow. From Beach’s point of view, it was like arguing with the tide. It would flow when it flowed.
He swallowed, then took a deep breath, leaning into Tai’s leg, wrapping himself in the comfort of Tai’s dominance.
“Uncle Sinclair—I asked him. I asked him to explain, or to let me handle things. He said, ‘Tell him he knows why.’”
“Sanctimonious fucking bastard.”
“Sir, I would be happy to wire money directly—”
“It’s far too late for that.”
Which was what his uncle had said. How could it suddenly be too late? As his father so often complained, he’d been living in exile for twenty-five years. Dad continued, “If you hadn’t gotten yourself into this mess, maybe you could have been some help. But with you tethered to the state of Maryland, there’s nothing you can do.”
Beach knew better than to suggest his mother or Beau’s side of the family. Beach might have been young, but he knew how wide the gulf was between his parents, and between his father and his cousins.
“I was trying to find the ring. Beau said—”
“Forget the goddamned ring, David. I need help, not some trinket.”
“Yes, sir. If you tell me your account details—”
“Forget the whole damned thing, me included. That shouldn’t be hard for you, after all.”
“Da—Father, I want—”
His father hung up. Beach pressed Redial, but there was no answer, no voice mailbox. He stabbed at Redial harder. The phone stopped ringing almost immediately. Before he could make another attempt, Tai took the phone.
“Walk now. Try again later.”
The surety and calmness spread out from Beach’s belly, radiating into his legs and feet and tingling into his fingers and hair. “Yes, Sir.”
Tai didn’t say anything as they walked along the edge of the infinity pool, then along the birches screening the property from glimpses of anything not upcycled from the area’s former life as a working wharf. Jez was on her best behavior, keeping pace right at Tai’s knee, her leash loose but arranged so Tai could check her if she started to wander. Tai and Jez were exemplary citizens. Beach, on the other hand, was a complete failure.
Though he had less need of his cane now than he had even three days ago, he stabbed it viciously into the ground as they walked. What was he supposed to do? What else could he possibly offer his father? Beach lashed out to the side with his cane, and Tai put out a hand to stop it before a row of innocent petunias suffered a premature beheading.
“David.” Tai yanked the cane out of Beach’s hands.
As if his grip on the cane had been a breakwater, anger spilled over, then bled away.
Beach shook his head in disgust. “Stupid, I know.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“What would you call it, then? Why do I even care that they all think I’m an utter waste of skin?”
“You care because it’s your father.”
“One I haven’t seen in twenty-five years.” He wondered at that. Maybe if he’d tried to visit?
“That is a long time.” Tai tossed the cane back. “Did you ever ask—maybe there’s another reason he can’t come back?”
Beach poked at a clump of green leaves torn from a birch in the storm last night. “No. I’ve never asked. I suspect I don’t want to know. He’s not much of a father, but he’s the only one I have.”
Tai took Jez off the pavement and onto the grassy verge for a spot of business. “Leaving the country and not being able to return for this length of time suggests something pretty serious. There are probably things that were kept from you when you were younger.”
“And you’re saying I should go digging up skeletons?”
“It makes more sense than digging for buried treasure on a forbidden island.”
“Now I’m both feckless and frivolous?”
“I told you before not to put words in my mouth.” There was no heat in Tai’s voice, just that calm dominance he used on Jez. Beach was tired of it.
“And probably not ones you haven’t heard before.”
“Check your assumptions, David. I took the SATs. I wouldn’t call you completely hopeless, though right now you’re sliding into careless.”
Shame soured on the back of Beach’s tongue. He’d never been the kind of person to put down others, been the kind of snob his cousins were. But being unable to get under Tai’s skin was infuriating. “And I suppose you have all this advice because of your vast experience with a male parent?”
If it hadn’t been for Jez, Beach might not have known how deep he’d struck. She pinned herself to Tai’s side, ears flattening, nose curled as she swung her head toward Beach with her lip lifted. It was barely audible over the slap of water, but the air vibrated with her growl.
“Enough.”
Beach was pretty sure that was more for him than the dog, but Jez lowered her threat level, bristling but not growling.
Tai stroked her head, and she sat. “I’m not going to play stand-in for your father.” At last exasperation colored his voice.
“Of course not. Because you putting me over your knee to spank me isn’t remotely paternal.”
“I’m your Dominant.” Tai was back to the reasonable tone. “You’re my submissive, not a child. And each time, you were very clear in what you were asking for.”
Beach dropped his gaze to stare at where he dragged his cane tip across the pavement. “And if I’m asking you to punish me now?” He hated his own diffidence, but he hated the way his insides felt—like everything was out of place and hard and hurting and would never be fixed—more.
“No.”
Beach thought things were hurting before, but that rejection was sharp enough to take his breath away. He started walking again, moving as far and fast as he could to outrace the burning ache inside. But he couldn’t outpace it. Or Tai.
“David, I’m not going to punish you because you’re upset about a conversation with your father. The D/s should only be about us. Not drag anyone else in.”
But Tai had done that before, hadn’t he? When this feeling got too big and Beach couldn’t take the Nancy somewhere to avoid it. Couldn’t chase it away with bourbon or X. Couldn’t lose it in a random body. Tai had given him that. Why couldn’t he do it now?
Beach gave a tight nod and kept walking as fast as he could. So much for feeling like he’d found something that gave him all he needed. Something that promised there was enough right here. No need to chase it.
Tai caught up and grabbed Beach’s arm. “I’ve told you not to run from me.”
“I thought this wasn’t about us. That it was about my daddy issues.”
“When you run from me or hide your feelings from me, that makes it about us.”
“So what the fuck do you want from me?”
“I want you to control yourself and think about what’s really going on. You’re angry, but you don’t get to lash out at everyone.”
“At you, you mean.” And he wasn’t angry. A little frustrated, but not angry.
“And at yourself.” Tai released Beach’s arm and took a familiar grip on his chin. “You need to think about what you really want, what you’re feeling. So you will not speak again until I give you permission.”
Beach opened his mouth to protest and then closed it.
“You have fifteen seconds to argue.”
It burned high up in his throat, like a shot of rotgut moonshine. The reasons why not. An explanation that talking was how Beach figured out what he was feeling. The flat-out denial of accepting Tai’s demand. It choked him, and he didn’t say anything at all.
“Good.” Tai caressed Beach’s jaw and pressed a gentle thumb against his lips. “Don’t forget.”
The sternness of that warning made adrenaline leap in Beach’s veins. So he could have what he’d been looking for, submit to that brief pain to get that release.
Tai must have read the intention in Beach’s face, because the dark eyes narrowed under the slash of brows. “If you speak before I give you permission, your ass is going to be more than sore. Three solid minutes. And it won’t be my hand. It will hurt like hell.”
Beach’s pulse still raced with excitement. It would be awful. Tai was deadly serious. But after….
“Be a good boy for me, David.” Tai brushed his thumb across Beach’s lips and resumed walking.
Beach blew out a breath as he followed. Damn him. Tai had handed the choice neatly off to Beach. If he really wanted the risk, to chance the pain for the release that followed, all he had to do was open his mouth. Bastard. Worse, Beach really hated displeasing Tai. In a completely different way, enduring the inability to speak because Tai demanded it gave Beach a prickle of warmth all over his body, like summer sunshine after too much air-conditioning. He wanted to luxuriate in Tai’s authority like a cat in that sunbeam. At the same time Beach wanted the out-of-control rush from Tai’s power and strength forcing pain into Beach’s body.
He didn’t want to have that option. For once, freedom weighed on him like an anchor.
Why couldn’t Tai make the choice for him? For them?
Beach had never realized how often he started a conversation to avoid being stuck in his own head until this restriction sealed his lips. Once he barely caught himself before snapping his jaw shut. Shit. This was harder than he’d thought. It was one thing to deliberately court punishment, but another to fail in control.
Tai pressed Beach into the sidewall of the elevator as they rode up to the fifth floor. “Remember you’re supposed to be thinking about what you feel, not avoiding it.”
Tai’s warm, hard body felt damned good against Beach. Faint spicy aftershave, the rumble of his voice, tang of sweat. Beach wanted a great big gulp of that kind of avoidance. He licked his lips.
The corner of Tai’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head. “Not that either. Focus.” Beach sighed and then tightened his jaw against a more verbal complaint or persuasion. Right as they crossed the apartment threshold, Gavin texted.
Beach glanced at Tai, not sure how far the prohibition went. Tai nodded, and Beach opened the message.
What are you doing?
Beach considered his answer for a second. My boyfriend. Let Gavin chew on that.
I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word. Gavin was a fine one to talk. Pardon my interruption. What are you doing on Saturday?
I devoutly hope more of the same.
Sunday was Tai’s day with his daughter, and their time on weekday evenings seemed so short. Like now. This wasn’t helping with the focus Beach was supposed to be doing. A focus he planned to show so they could get on with dessert and sweeter things.
Catch you later. He turned off the phone and left it on the counter. After a wistful look at the waiting baklava, he glanced back at Tai.
“Sit.”
Jez went over to her blanket, and Beach dropped on the couch. When Tai knelt in front of Beach, his breath whistled between his teeth, but Tai only checked Beach’s shin for signs of swelling.
Beach sucked back the protest that it was fine and then enjoyed a quick massage from Tai’s hands, pressure stretching and loosening the muscles again. He lifted Beach’s ankle to rest it on the coffee table before turning the TV on to the last three innings of the Orioles game, muting the sound, then settling next to Beach to watch.
Beach found baseball stupefyingly tedious. With the sound off, he couldn’t even devote some mental energy to mocking the announcers. No. Nothing but him in his head. Hadn’t he shown that he was in control now? He was over it. Like he got over everything. All he needed was an idea to replace the problem thoughts, some sweet anticipation, and everything would be back to happy.
They’d have the honey-flaky treat and then lick it off each other’s lips. Yes. Beach would show off his recent practice with frozen bananas and earn the praise of Tai’s hands, heavy caresses through Beach’s hair. He shifted a little, making room for the swell of his cock as he pictured it.
Tai glanced over. “I don’t think you’re focused on the right thing.” His voice was a little annoyed and a little amused.
What was the point of dwelling on Beach’s failings with his father? His uncle? Entire months of his life went by without any contact from his family. He hadn’t heard from his mother since her Christmas card.
He’d been frustrated after the phone call. And now that was gone. The end.
Tai had said Beach couldn’t talk, but not that he had to stay on the couch. He slipped off, kneeling next to Tai’s legs, foot flexed to avoid strain to that healing shin. Tai’s hands sifted through Beach’s hair.
“Very nice, boy. But it’s not going to get you out of what you’re supposed to be doing.” Beach was supposed to be thinking about how he felt. What he felt was that tug that made him want to be here. Kneeling at Tai’s feet. Obedient. And horny. There was also that. So that was what Beach concentrated on. How it felt. He shut his eyes, because the pictures on the TV were distracting. They took away from how right it felt to be there, to belong to Sir. He started to float on that connection, his chest full of heat and light, breaths even and slow. Time never mattered when he got there, so it might have been a few minutes or an hour when he was aware of Tai moving, his voice settling into Beach’s head. “Keep your eyes closed. Open your mouth.”
Sweet and sticky, airy fragments of buttery phyllo and rich filling flooded his mouth. After he chewed and swallowed, Tai urged him to open for another bite. Baklava should always be eaten like this. His senses swam with texture and smell, the dizziness that came with that absolute surrender. Tai held a glass to Beach’s lips.
“Tip your head back.”
Water. Had it ever tasted better? Beach swallowed. Then swallowed the swell of feeling in his throat that made his eyes prickle with moisture. As amazing as submitting to Tai felt, yielding this made Beach feel the most cared for, the most grateful for the caring. The simple act of food from Tai’s hand fed parts of Beach that had always gone hungry before, filled him and took away that endless desire to anticipate the next distraction. The completion found every hollow, left him full and sated but alive with energy.
When Tai said, “Open your eyes,” and urged Beach to eat the rest of the pastry from a cupped palm, it felt natural to lick all the traces of flavor from Tai’s skin, then kiss the pads of his fingers in gratitude. Beach smiled into Tai’s hand, remembering the husky whisper of My job, boy when Beach had licked his fingers earlier.
“What? You can speak.” Tai’s voice was as breathless now as it had been then.
Now that he could, Beach found he didn’t want to, didn’t want his usual bland banter to come between them. He shook his head.
Tai grabbed Beach’s chin. “Are you being a brat?”
Instead of his default reaction to push back, Beach opened his eyes wide and shook his head again.
“Hmm.” Tai leaned down to kiss him, beard a tingling rasp against Beach’s evening stubble. “I’ll take that as a challenge then.”
He tested Beach’s control, kissing him into the bedroom, examining the strength of it in a steady stroke of his cock before pushing him onto the bed.
Beach held out as long as he could, sounds and pleas confined by a tight jaw, until Tai swallowed and groaned, lips brushing the base of Beach’s shaft, that pulsing, hot, wet throat so tight, drawing his cock deeper.
“Please. God, please, Sir. Can I come?”
More perfect agony, Tai drawing off and then sinking back, slick pressure on every inch and the rough texture of throat on the head. Beach’s muscles cramped as he fought to hold back the fiery flood in his balls.
Tai pulled off all the way, abandoning Beach’s dick to the chill of the room. “Not yet.”
Beach didn’t care. He needed, God, how he needed. His wrists were locked together over his head, legs pinned open by Tai’s weight. “Anything. I’ll take anything, do anything. Please, Sir.”
“No bargaining. You will take whatever I give you.”
“Yes.” It was true. The knowledge wound more tightly through his balls. He would take whatever Sir gave him, craved that control, and for the first time the knowledge came free of any shame. What did it matter what other people thought if he had this?
Tai took him back to the edge, making Beach frantic with the added sensation of a spit-wet finger rubbing around his hole.
Beach wasn’t sure what he was saying now. Like in all that silence he’d forgotten words, but when Tai stopped again and the tension rebounded inside, tears squeezed out from the corners of Beach’s eyes.
“This, David.” Tai loomed, brows in a deep, serious V on his face, but his kiss was silky soft. “This is what I want you to take. What I want you to feel for me. You can do this for me, boy.”
“Yes, Sir.” The answer came out on a sob, but Beach tried to relax while still holding on to the orgasm burning in his balls and dick, all the way through to his shaking thighs.
Tai scraped his beard down Beach’s chest, teasing his cock with the soft prickle of it. Oh, he could come from that, couldn’t he? If it was just a little harder. Higher.
The finger teasing his hole became two, slicker, a rough push in that went right to Beach’s dick.
“When I tell you to come, you do it right then or you won’t get another chance tonight.”
Fuck. Beach’s head fell back, throat, stomach, legs, balls, everything straining, caught on the knife-edge where Sir kept him.
Tai’s fingers fucked fast, hard, and the burn helped Beach hold on until the friction turned to stroking stabs of pleasure against his gland and his legs shook. Though his eyes were squinched shut, he could feel Tai watching, and he tried to find a place where the tension wasn’t so terrible, where he wasn’t need but was surrender. He spread his legs wider, tipped up his hips, opened his ass.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this.” Tai’s voice sounded like he still had a cock in his throat. He pressed a kiss to Beach’s belly, then demanded, “Now,” before swallowing Beach’s cock again.
It should have been easy, he’d been waiting so damned long. But it wasn’t. He bucked up against Tai’s shoulders, trying to get the rhythm, the pressure to meet the need.
He shuddered, mind frantic. Tai would leave him hanging here, but even worse, David would disappoint Sir.
Another twist of fingers, along with the slide of a hard hand on his shaft, brought him closer. Exquisite suction and Tai’s tongue flicking over the head had the rush taking over, a flood of it, endless spasms of pleasure, blasting into Tai’s mouth. Muscles cramped and ached as the shocks rang through him until it ended in a bone-melting lassitude.
“So good.” Tai freed Beach’s hands. “That’s it. Good boy. Roll over for me now.”
Beach’s body wasn’t exactly cooperating, so Tai twisted and shoved, and Beach ended up with his ass up, hips tilted over the wadded-up sheet, dick protesting even the contact of the satiny thousand-thread-count percale.
It would hurt to be fucked, but Beach really didn’t care. In fact now would be a perfect time to be branded, or tattooed, or for another round of surgery on his tibia.
Tai’s cock slipped along Beach’s ass crack. Beach shoved back toward him, squeezing. “Yeah, just like that.” The voice was more gravelly, abraded from—God, from having Beach’s dick in so deep, so long. Tai’s voice, rasped and shaky with want.
I gave him that. Me.
Beach shuddered, then pushed back harder, shifting to try to line them up. Satisfaction pulsed hot in his belly. I can give him this too.
Tai pressed him down, full weight pinning Beach to the mattress. “Not gonna fuck you. Keep it tight for me.”
Beach did, clenching his muscles and rocking against Tai’s thrusts. The pressure on Beach’s hole sent a painful throb of blood to try to fill his dick. The desperate, hoarse groans from Tai only made it worse, like the pleasure spilling out from where Tai sucked a bite into the back of Beach’s neck. But the unbroken chant of his name before warm, slick come sprayed between them made the ache worth it.
Tai didn’t move off, arms wrapping through and around Beach’s, the anchor holding back any threat of a drop as they drifted off.
When Beach woke up with an urgent bladder and the need to stretch a cramp out of his hip, Tai peeled away with a sigh.
“Y’okay?”
“Everything’s good. Be right back.” Beach swung his feet onto the floor.
Jez was sprawled on her side, not even giving a twitch of an ear as he passed. After he pissed, he executed some contorted maneuvers with a washcloth to despunk his back and decided he could do with a glass of water.
His phone sat on the counter in silent rebuke. After eyeing it through his emptying glass, he resigned himself to seeing if he had a message. Three texts from Gavin, and a voicemail from his father. He chose the lesser evil first. Be sure you have something to wear to charm some donations out of grande dames on Saturday. Garden party at the Manor.
Why the hell would Beach willingly subject himself to that when he could be subject to Sir?
There was a follow up. You. Owe. Me.
And finally. Wear blue. The ladies like it when it matches your eyes.
Beach rolled the orbs in question, though he knew guilt would win and he’d be there.
Guilt also had him gingerly bringing the phone to his ear to listen to the voicemail.
“Might have a way out of this shit. Be ready to wire two point five to an offshore account. I’ll call back with the information.”
Two point five million would pretty much empty Beach’s accounts. The Fancy Nancy was his, free and clear, and the town house in Charleston. This apartment, docking fees here and at other favorite spots along the coast, the place he kept in Juno Beach, all that drained from his account. He earned it back in dividends—the trust fund had a steady stream of investment income—but he wasn’t like Gavin. He couldn’t sneeze a million dollars into his hand. He’d barely cover the next two months if he wired that to his dad. And he certainly wouldn’t be able to make a splash at Gavin’s fundraiser.
Though if Beach did… if he cut that check to his father, handed it over, maybe he’d finally feel free of it. Finished. Done with the expectations of what family should be.
He pressed the button to call back. A computer voice answered, “El número que usted ha marcado no está en servicio. Por favor revise el número y trate de nuevo.” Beach had taken French and German, but he got enough to know the number was out of service.
It stiffened his spine with a jolt of alarm.
No real reason. Beach might believe in ghosts, but he sure as hell wasn’t a psychic.
There was nothing unusual about his father dropping one burner phone for another.
The unease came from all those things. A sudden demand for cash after refusing it. The desperation in the voicemail. The promise to call back to get the money and now the out-of-service answer.
Beach left the phone on the counter and padded into the bedroom, stopping for a moment to peer out through the windows.
He loved predawn light. The first shift from black to deep indigo. All the promise in a new day—though he much preferred to catch dawn from an all-night-out perspective rather than needing to be up at a crazy hour. He slipped back into bed and stared at the shadowy block that made up Tai. In Beach’s absence, Tai had clutched onto a pillow, face relaxed as he curled around it. Tenderness rolled through Beach, and he stroked a hand through the long black curls. So satiny and scented with a sweet oil, almost almondy. Tai curled closer.
It was like having a sleeping tiger in his bed. Lethal power with a deceptive feline softness. And somehow, Tai chose to share that with Beach. Gave him the gift of the terrifying and tender places they went to.
Beach wanted that now. Wanted Tai’s solid, emphatic control poured over the tangle of fear and confusion in Beach’s mind. He stared at Tai’s face, willing him to wake up.
Couldn’t he feel it? Didn’t that connection, David to Sir, still vibrate between them? Beach felt it all the time, like something rooted right under the bottom of his sternum, a cord that pulled him to Tai.
Beach made another stroke through Tai’s hair, contemplating a tug, an accidentally purposeful kick to his shin.
I’m not going to play stand-in for your father.
That wasn’t what this was. Beach was completely over the desire for any parental guidance in navigating life. And he certainly didn’t want Tai to be—what had Eli called Quinn when they were joking around the grill?—Daddy. Beach didn’t want any kind of a stand-in. Not for Gavin off focused on Sergeant Boyfriend, or their other friend Lee, who was caught up in his wife’s Machiavellian manipulations. He wanted this. Brand-new. And all Tai.
But maybe that was all Tai saw it as. Why he listened patiently when Beach whined about the family disaster. Why he urged Beach to take care of himself, to go to physical therapy for his leg. It was Tai’s job, straightening out the miscreants so they could go on to be good little members of society. He’d just found a better than usual way to help out Beach. When his probation was over, when Beach was trained to good behavior, Tai would find a new cause. Beach wished he had enough courage to be bad enough to keep that from happening.