Chapter Nineteen
Tyson
I hadn’t minded the frigid walk along the seawall.
Hamish and I’d held hands—with gloves, of course, but it’d been so cold that my balls had practically crawled back into my body to seek warmth.
Jeans did nothing against the vicious winter wind coming off the water.
I hadn’t cared, though. We were doing something together, and that something wasn’t going to land us in bed and trying to crawl into each other’s skin again.
Holding him in the late morning haze from our mutual pleasure had been wonderful.
Waking up with wood and the good sense not to act on it hadn’t been so much fun.
Donovan and I cleared the dishes and stowed the leftovers while Hamish ostensibly went to prepare his bedroom. Having seen it mere hours ago—in passing—I could swear the room was in perfect shape.
Hamish’s nerves, however, were not.
“I’m not going to hurt him.” Donovan sealed the leftover chicken in a plastic container and put it into the fridge.
We’d need to eat that tomorrow.
“I know you won’t.” I put the last glass into the dishwasher.
After gauging the machine to be less than half full, I closed it without turning it on.
Hamish had plenty—of everything. I wasn’t certain how many of his parents and siblings he might entertain at once, but I was pretty sure the entire McAllister clan could be accommodated without much effort.
They might not all fit at the dining room table, mind, but there would certainly be enough plates.
After a moment, I rested my hip against the counter. “But when I hear catharsis and breaking, I don’t exactly rush to a happy place.”
Donovan wiped the counter with a damp cloth. “I was…rambling.”
“Stoned.”
“Well, that too.” He snickered. “But maybe that was the truth serum I needed to be honest and flay myself open for him. Yes, I’ve broken people. In the BDSM context and, of course, always consensually.”
“That doesn’t reassure—”
He held out his hand. “But I’m also always there to pick up the pieces and to put the person back together—only stronger.” He winced.
“Do tell.”
He waved me off. “Okay, one time it didn’t go well, and a couple of times those people didn’t want me to piece them back together—they had long-term partners to do that.”
“And those partners stood by and watched?”
“Those partners had a say in the entire scene—but were also cautioned against interfering or stepping in unless I was out of line or the scene was going sideways. It never did.” He hung the cloth over the faucet and met my gaze.
“I’d never knowingly hurt someone without the ability to put them back together again and without their informed consent. ”
I believed him. His sincerity couldn’t be faked. Or at least I was pretty certain it couldn’t be. But… “Why Hamish? He’s got his shit together.”
“The tighter they’re wound—the more they need the release.” He scratched his bald head with just the hint of stubble. “He’s got something in there, Tyson. I see it. I don’t know if you—”
“I do.” I scratched my nose. “I mean, there’s the disciplinary hearing, for sure, but there’s more than that. He says he doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“And maybe he never will. We both know secrets fester and can silently kill if they’re not addressed.”
Gazing into his fathomless dark-brown eyes, I took a hit to the gut. “Have you ever told anyone?”
He didn’t show any outward sign of surprise. Instead, he pressed a hand to his chest—above his heart. “No. Never.”
“Not even Cole?” That surprised me. Although Donovan didn’t fit into the Cole/Caressa/Michael dynamic, I still regarded his relationship with his best friend as solid.
“It happened before I ever met Cole. I’ve lived in denial for twenty years.”
“Denial?” I scrutinized him. “That’s a pretty strong word.”
“I never think about it.”
“Liar.”
His eyes widened.
“I call it as I see it, and whatever it is, it eats away at you. You pretend you never think about it, but that’s just to fool yourself.
And for some reason, the shooting has dragged all this up.
” I waved toward Hamish’s bedroom. “And tonight’s going to be a lovely diversion.
But your need to break people…” I swallowed.
“There’s nothing abnormal about being a Dominant.”
“Nope, there’s not. I don’t understand either compulsion—to dominate or to submit—but I agree mental illness rarely plays a part in those decisions.
” I’d done some reading since all this came up, and the literature was pretty certain that most people who partook in BDSM were rational and cognizant of their feelings.
Not to say abuse and mental illness didn’t exist within the community—just at a rate no higher than the average population.
“Look, you don’t have to share. But Hamish is holding on pretty tight—and it’s not just us. ” I gestured between the two of us.
Donovan stepped into my space.
Our gazes clashed.
Oh, his indomitable will would overpower Hamish—as strong as the man was—and it’d likely run roughshod over me if I let it.
“Uh…”
We turned to find Hamish at the other end of the room, near his bedroom door. He was swathed in a huge terry-towel robe, and his cheeks were pink.
Donovan placed a hand on my hip and pivoted me to face our partner. “You’re ready?”
Those cheeks deepened into scarlet. “Uh, I think so?”
After placing a quick peck to my cheek, Donovan headed over to Hamish. He grasped the man by his shoulders. “You know you don’t have to—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
I jerked at Hamish’s profanity and his tone while Donovan’s eyes widened.
“I’m not fragile. In fact, I think you’re likely to find I’m quite the opposite.” He glanced from Donovan to me and then back again. “I’m so ready that I’m likely to explode.”
Well, all right, then.
Donovan smiled. “I’m going to brush my teeth—”
“Spare toothbrush is on the counter. Tyson already has his. Five minutes.” With that, Hamish turned and scrambled back to his bedroom.
“Don’t we have to go through his bedroom to get to the bathroom?” Donovan quirked an eyebrow in evident amusement.
“Yes.” I shrugged. “His bed is on the far side, and he’s going to ignore us.”
“You want to go first?”
“Sure.” I pressed myself against him. “Then I’ll keep a place warm for you.”
“How big is his bed?”
I laughed. “A king. Apparently, his sister coerced him into buying it—maintaining one day he’d have someone to share it with.”
“Bet she didn’t think there’d be two someones.”
“Yeah, probably not.” I kissed his cheek and then headed into the bathroom. I caught a quick peek at Hamish. He lay in the bed—on the right side and facing the middle. Which meant he couldn’t see me. Likely, he could sense me, though. God knew I was attuned to him.
I pissed, washed my hands, and then brushed my teeth. I was meticulous about oral hygiene, but today wasn’t the day to be picky. I undressed and piled my clothes under my arm as I entered the room.
Donovan’d entered as well, but he’d pressed himself against the closed door—almost at the farthest corner in the room from Hamish. He turned when I stepped into the room. He cocked his head.
I nodded.
He slipped into the bathroom behind me.
After piling my clothes on one of the two chairs strategically placed by the windows to maximize the view, I rounded the bed to face Hamish.
His eyes fluttered open under my scrutiny.
“I won’t ask you if you’re sure—because I know you are—but I’m offering to be a buffer.”
He snickered. And held the sheet up.
I slid in beside him so we faced. After holding his gaze for another moment, I leaned in for a kiss.
My intention was a brief press of lips, but he grasped the back of my neck and dragged me down for a drugging kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and explored the recesses. He sought to encourage me to match his ardor—and I did.
I reciprocated by running my hand through his hair and then trailing my fingers down his spine as I insinuated myself closer.
Donovan clearing his throat had us pulling away from the kiss—but not away from each other. He stood, gloriously naked, at the foot of the bed. His dark cock stood out proud from a thatch of trimmed hair. With his crossed arms, he looked like a domineering God.
I might’ve giggled.
He arched an eyebrow.
Hamish held up the sheet in invitation.
I scooted to the side, revealing to Donovan he was welcome to the center.
After a moment, he came over to my side of the bed, crawled over me, and settled between the two of us.
When Hamish began to pull up the sheet, Donovan waylaid him.
“I want to see you.” He glanced over at me. “You too.” He fingered my chest hair. “This is fucking sexy.”
“I know, right?” Hamish grinned. “He tries to play down how he’s not a real silver fox—because he’s not old. In fact, I’m the oldest…which feels a little weird…but anyway, that chest of silver hair covering those amazing muscles and, oh my God, his cock.”
A weird compulsion to cover myself overtook me.
Before I had a chance to make a move, though, Donovan grasped my arm in a strong viselike grip and held it back.
“Yes, I definitely want to see his cock again. Up close and personal this time.” Said with a massive amount of lasciviousness.
Hamish flushed. “Well, I always used think of it as a dick. Or a penis. But like, that’s not how guys talk on the videos and…” He halted. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Donovan burst out laughing. “Oh, Hamish, you’re priceless. You’ve watched porn.”
“Uh…”
He leaned over and placed a kiss to the man’s reddening cheek. “I love it.” Finally, he released my arm. Then he gazed over toward me. “Don’t ever cover yourself in my presence. Or with Hamish.”
I swallowed. “Yes.” Because I’d assumed that applied to all of us.
Hamish caught my gaze and gave me that boyish grin I was so familiar with and loved so very much.
Donovan grasped Hamish’s hair. “I’m going to kiss you, and Tyson’s going to play with your cock.”
The other man nodded vigorously.
Catching my eye, Donovan winked. “But don’t let him come.”
“Uh…” Hamish squirmed. “Every time he touches me…I…uh…”