Solace (Devastation Trilogy Book 2) Page 9

  “Good boy,” she says in that tone. It makes my cock twitch even more.

  She slants her lips over mine in a kiss. The kind I’d always fantasized about when alone in bed.

  The kind I figured it’d be several more years before I ever experienced for myself.

  Sure, girls hit on me at school—and sometimes women hit on me in the office before they realize how old I am—but I guess part of the problem is I have no interest in a college social life. I don’t want to go to parties.

  Emma never got to go to parties.

  My mother never got to go to parties.

  I can party when I’m sitting in my house reading a certain person’s obituary and smiling when I plan how to go piss on the fucker’s grave.

  Then I can party.

  Until then, I’m going to work my fucking ass off.

  Casey’s different. In some ways, it feels like Casey…gets me. Her parents are both dead. She hasn’t told me much about her past, but I get the feeling there’s some darkness there that makes us more alike than different.

  She cups the back of my head and deepens the kiss. I find myself sliding my arms around her waist and holding on, following her lead, letting her teach me.

  Cliched, but true.

  I’m happy to learn. There’s only so much you can absorb while watching porn, and that shit always leaves me feeling cold, anyway.

  Before long, she’s got me naked, on my back, and is straddling my face and making the kind of noises porn hopes to aspire to.

  Doesn’t hurt that she gave me instructions, so I wasn’t flying blind.

  The whole time, I’m hard and trying to figure out what to do with my hands, because she tells me I’m not allowed to play with myself.

  Which makes me even hornier, for some reason. But it pleases the hell out of her, so I just…

  Go with it.

  I go with everything she teaches me, and does to me, and has me do to her. By the time I collapse that night I’ve come twice, I’ve lost count of how many times she’s come, and curled up with her in bed I fall asleep wondering if this is what love feels like.

  Because even if it doesn’t? I’m okay with whatever this is.

  Chapter Ten

  Now

  When we arrive at the house, George thanks the officer who drove us and bids him good-night. Then he exits the SUV first while casually jingling his house keys as if he’s totally unaware it’s making my cock throb like a motherfucker.

  Outside the SUV, our breaths frost in the crisp night air. The clouds finally cleared away and the temperature dropped again. It’s supposed to warm up tomorrow but rain again as the front lifts from the south and heads north. George extends his hand to me, helping me from the SUV and once again cupping the back of my neck as we walk up the front steps.

  It’s casually possessive. The way he’s acting as if it’s no big deal hopefully means the officer will never breathe a word of this to anyone. He waits to leave until George unlocks the front door and guides me inside. After turning off the alarm and locking the door behind us, he grabs me by the hand and leads me down the hall.

  “What about the alarm, Sir?”

  “I’m sure Casey will take care of it later.” We head to the living room, where he pulls me in for a crushing kiss. “Stay.”

  He steps away, leaving me swaying a little on my feet. He turns on one corner lamp and puts on music before he turns and leaves the room, leaving me wondering what’s on his mind.

  I assumed we’d head up to the bedroom.

  Which is where I hear him heading, up the stairs.

  I don’t remain in limbo for long. He returns moments later, items in his hands. These he dumps on the sofa. Before I can get a good look at what he brought, he turns and kisses me again.

  Did I mention he’s a damn good kisser?

  He is.

  Maybe I don’t have a lot to compare him to, because I’ve only kissed Casey, but he sure seems like a damned good kisser to me. I have no complaints, that’s for sure.

  He reaches for my belt as he kisses me, unfastening my slacks and shoving them and my briefs down my hips. I toe off my dress shoes and nearly trip in the process, making him laugh as he catches and steadies me.

  “Don’t break your neck, boy. Ma’am would kill me.”

  I start to take my jacket off, but he stops me with a noise, the way Casey’s done countless times over the years. “Didn’t tell you to do that.” His voice drops into that deeper, Dom register, and I shiver.

  With that order issued, I pull my jacket back on. I don’t know what he’s got in mind, but my cock’s screaming for relief.

  The smile he wears tells me I’m in for a time, regardless of what he’s got planned. He picks up his keys, which he’d set on the coffee table. It’s hard not to drool as I look at them. Freedom, so close. After jingling them at me, he’s looking me dead in the eyes as he smiles and slips them into his jacket pocket. Then he backs up and sits on the couch, where he pats his thigh.

  His meaning’s clear. I eagerly straddle his lap, my arms draped around his neck as his hands settle on my ass.

  Fingers dig into the bruises and marks he left on my ass last night, squeezing and making my situation even more desperate. He stares up at me with those blue eyes of his and kisses me. I’m still distracted by the kissing when he moves his right hand, reaching for something next to him, feeling for it. He finds it, releases me with his left hand, and I hear the unmistakable sound of him pulling on a nitrile glove.

  Oh. I know where this game is going now.

  I think.

  We’re still kissing while he reaches for something else. I feel him lift the back of my jacket with his left hand. The fingers on his right hand—now gloved, called that one accurately—slide along the seam of my ass.

  Followed by the unmistakable feel of cool lube being squirted there.

  The fingers slip and slide and seek entrance. He swallows my moans with his kisses as one finger plays with me, teasing me to the point I’m arching my back to give him easier access.

  “Good boy,” he whispers against my lips, and one key point becomes achingly clear to me.

  I do belong to him. Absolutely, without question. I didn’t mean to lie to Casey this morning, but…I did.

  I love him, and I love Casey. I’m in love with both of them. I am now left praying they never force me to choose between them.

  There isn’t a choice for me any longer.

  Even knowing the darkness she and I share, even as deeply as I love her, and as much as I trust her, there is a part of her soul that will never trust me and let me in the way George so obviously can and does.

  Does she love me? She says she does, and I believe her. I trust her, because she’s never given me a reason not to.

  George hasn’t told me he loves me yet. Not in so many words, but when we’re alone—and sometimes, even when we’re not—his every action speaks to what I hope is love he feels for me.

  I mean, he hasn’t gone down on me yet, or offered to bottom to me, but I don’t need that from him. Casey sometimes goes down on me, when she’s got me tightly bound and helpless and begging for relief. For her amusement, not my pleasure, even though I do enjoy it, obviously.

  “I was hard most of the night, boy,” he whispers. “Thinking about you standing there with that locked on you. Knowing you were doing that for me.”

  My brain is jarred by the memory of seeing that man sitting across the table from George tonight.

  Ah, that is the only barrier between us, and for obvious reasons. I can never let him know about Junior, or our eventual goal. George might think himself a bastard, and in some ways he absolutely is one, but he’s also a man of the law. Personal ethics slips aside when it comes to me and Casey and what we’re doing.

  Except this relationship we have is only the three of us. We’re consenting adults, and our weird little relationship has no impact on his job, or on the people of our state. If anything, what we have helps him
with his job, helps him govern more effectively. Damn sure helps him function in a way he really wasn’t before.

  But regarding our vengeance? He would stop us, even if it broke his heart to turn us in if we did something. Even if he agreed with us. Unless we could find a legal way to enact justice, which looks doubtful.

  “I was hard, Sir.” Not really a fib, because yes, I was, at one point.

  I gasp as I feel the teasing finger make its entrance and explore, gasping again as he seeks and finds my sweet spot.

  That earns me Dom eyebrow, and a sexy, dark smile that means he recognizes what the hell he’s doing to me.

  Another shiver wracks my body. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open against the pleasure. Ma’am has trained me well in this way, taught me to crave this kind of play over the years. She doesn’t milk me very often, but playing with my ass in general.

  My balls brush against the fabric of his slacks as I involuntarily start rocking my hips. I hope he doesn’t mind he’s about to get some interesting stains on his tux.

  “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this, boy.” His lips part slightly as he watches me while he withdraws his finger and replaces it with two. “Don’t you dare come without permission, either, or you’ll be wearing this all night. I said I’d make sure you always go to bed satisfied, but I never said I wouldn’t lock you up. I warned you I’m in a mood to be a bastard. You come when I let you come, or you pay the price.”

  I unabashedly whimper and my eyes drop closed. Fuck turning it up to eleven, George just ratcheted everything up to a fifty. One of Casey’s kinks is tease and denial, mostly because of how needy and submissive it makes me. After my recent weeks with George, and him wringing as much pleasure out of me as he’s able to—and seemingly being amused by that—he’s now taking a page from Ma’am’s playbook.

  Between the two of them, I am absolutely and completely fucked. Literally and metaphorically.

  Again, not a complaint, just an observation.

  “Eyes open, boy,” he orders.

  I force myself to comply and tip my head forward, my forehead resting against his. I fist his jacket and hold on tightly, trying to make my body behave and obey.

  “I’ve got you now, don’t I?” His blue eyes look darker in this light, closer to midnight than their usual vibrant light blue.

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

  Inside me, his fingers scissor, thrust, rub my prostate and make me gasp and moan and struggle to obey.

  I want to be his good boy. I don’t want to disobey him.

  “Has Ma’am ever played with you like this? Milked you?”

  “Yes, but not lately.”

  “I’ve been thinking about doing this to you all day, boy.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I researched it and wanted to try it.” His fingers glide over my prostate again. The gasp I make earns me an evil smile. “I do like seeing you needy and undone. I like knowing the unflappable man negotiating with the General Assembly over my budget is also the same man squirming and desperate across my lap for me.”

  “Fuck,” I gasp. My cock’s throbbing inside the confines of the goddamned chastity cage—I really should hide the motherfucking things—and the mix of the pain and pleasure almost sends me over the edge.

  “Exactly.” He twists his fingers inside me and my eyes nearly roll back in my head. “My poor boy is sooo close right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His fingers disappear, leaving me empty and gasping, this time in disappointment.

  I know. I’m a complicated slut.

  I hear him strip off the glove and drop it onto the floor. “Sit up.”

  I do, and he unfastens his belt and slacks, shoves down his boxers, and fishes out his cock. He grabs a condom pouch from the pile of stuff, which also includes a towel, and quickly sheaths himself and slathers it with lube. After wiping his hands, he holds the base of his cock with his left, grabs my hip with his right, and pushes me down.

  “All the way, boy.” Dark, blatant hunger fills his gaze as he watches me impale myself. He grabs my other hip, his fingers digging in while he arches up and grinds against me.

  I fucking see stars. Biting down on my lower lip manages to keep me obedient, for now, but a couple of more of those and I’m going to be in trouble.

  Literally.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he whispers, reaching up and grabbing my head for leverage to slant a kiss across my lips. He tightly fists my hair, which nearly brings tears to my eyes at the same time my cock throbs in its confinement. The hand on my hip holds me still but I can’t help flexing my ass around him.

  That makes him groan.

  “Damn, boy.” He nips my lower lip. “That feels amazing.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Sir.”

  He kisses me, making me lose track of time. Hell, I lose track of what planet I’m inhabiting. There’s a raw, unrestrained energy flowing between us, much like last night.

  I’ve noticed this, that we tend to go off into some other dimension when we’re together. When we’re involved in sex or play, something primal and dark emerges. George the kind, gentle man disappears, and the sadistic Master takes command. Declan the straight, responsible, capable attorney and political operative takes a hike, while a needy, greedy bi-leaning masochistic slut rules my brains and balls.

  “If you can come like this,” George tells me, “fucking yourself on my cock, then I’ll take the cage off you and you’ll get to come as much as your balls can handle before we fall asleep. If you can’t, then I’ll fuck you, milk you, and the cage stays on until morning.”

  Nothing better to motivate me than that. I drape my arms around his neck again and struggle to find the right angle and way of thrusting to do the job.

  Meanwhile, the helpful sadist squeezes my ass.

  No, that really is helpful, actually, the bites of pain.

  I can only imagine what this looks like, me riding him like a horny prom date while he smiles and whispers to me.

  “Such a good boy,” he says. “My sweet, slutty boy. Show Sir how you can come from a good fucking.”

  Before long, it’s a deep craving to come like this for him. Like my very existence depends upon it.

  Then George spreads his thighs, and it appears that’s the secret sauce. It forces my thighs wider apart and his cock is now perfectly gliding right where it needs to.

  George’s gaze narrows. “That’s it, baby. Get you some. Show Sir how horny you are.” He slips his hands up under my shirt, against my skin, and brushes his thumbs over my nipples before pinching them, hard.

  I’m not saying this is the sexual equivalent of Chernobyl, but the chain reaction that triggers sets off a runaway series of sensations that blasts me off and rolls my eyes back in my head.

  George grabs my hips again and starts fucking, wanting to catch up with me while I’m struggling to stay fricking upright. I think I’m addicted to the sound of him coming, that certain groan he makes, because my cock twitches a little inside the cage even though I just blew my load.

  We both let out contented sighs, which leads to us both laughing. He pulls me close, apparently not giving a shit about the mess, and holds me tucked against him.

  That’s when I hear the golf clap.

  We both look to see Casey smirking, standing there at the end of the hallway and leaning against the wall. “Very nice, gentlemen. Very nice indeed.” She pushes off the wall and strolls over. “I hope you saved some energy for me, boy.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I don’t know why I’m blushing. On a scale of one-to-ten of the kinkiest shit Casey and I have done together, this doesn’t even blip a two.

  I start to move, but she stops me with that sound. The same one George used on me earlier when I started to take off my jacket.

  “I like the clothes,” she says as she rounds the couch and kicks off her shoes. “Points for style, George.” She turns her back to me. “Zipper, boy.”

  I reach up and un
fasten it for her, and she sheds her dress, revealing her lacy black bra and panties.

  She looks thoughtful as she contemplates our situation, her hand automatically going to her necklace and playing with it. It strikes me now that it looks familiar for some reason, but I can’t place it. Not just because she’s been wearing it, but like it’s…like something else.

  “I told him he could take the cage off,” George says, my attention snapping back onto him. “He did what I told him to. He was a good boy.”

  “You told him he could,” she says. “That can wait until I’m done.” My cock gives another twitch.

  “He can’t do much while sitting there on my cock,” George says, but I hear the amusement in his tone.

  “Oh, can’t he?” She smiles at me and shucks her panties. Then she climbs up on the couch. “Keep your hands to yourself, George.” She perches on his left, on the back of the couch.

  “That’ll be difficult with you practically sitting on my shoulder, Case.”

  “Well, you can keep me from falling off the couch. How’s that?” Then she smiles at me and crooks her finger. “I think you can reach me from there, can’t you, boy?”

  I need no other prompting. I lean in and go to town, because this is, honestly, one of my favorite things in the world to do.

  Pleasing her.

  George watches. I can tell from the look on his face he wishes he was invited to help out. But he ends up with his fingers laced together on top of his head, elbows stuck out, which basically lets Casey lean against him.

  And not fall off the couch.

  The few glimpses I catch of him while I do that show me he’s amused, curious, a little half-smile on his face as he watches me do what I do best.

  By the time she taps out, I know I’ve gotten at least three good ones out of her, and she looks happy and sated. She slides down onto the seat of the couch and kisses me.

  I watch George as we do this and now I’m not sure if that’s jealousy or desire, or both, darkening his gaze.

  I’d vote for both, if I was a betting man.

  George finally puts his hands, down, his left draped along the back of the couch and his right hooking around me and pulling me against him again. “Can I convince you to stay with us tonight?” he ventures.