Bad Behavior

by K.A. Mitchell

  “Okay. But you listen better like this.”

  “I listen just—” David’s sigh was rueful. “Yes, Sir. I do.”

  “I wasn’t saying that I didn’t enjoy what we did. Only that I got sidetracked.” David tipped his head to one side to show off a grin. “Glad I could help.”

  “And you’re trying to do it again.”

  David straightened, not resisting Tai’s hold but no longer relaxing into it.

  “My mom called and told me what you did. At the hospital.”

  “What did I do?” David’s surprise was genuine, a flinch throughout his body. “I was a perfect gentleman.”

  Tai shifted them so that he could tip up David’s chin. “You made them let me see Sammie. Thank you.”

  David lowered his eyes. “Yes. Well, I’m not particularly fond of stupid bureaucracies.”

  “My mom thinks you’re in some kind of mafia.”

  “She mentioned that.” David fidgeted, rolling his foot in a circle until the ankle joint popped audibly over the slap of rain. “Beauchamp is a name health-care administrators are familiar with. I went over the nurse’s head.”

  Tai had expected smug. Not an almost apology. “Well, I appreciate it.”

  “No trouble. It was a simple phone call.” But there was more deflection than courtesy in David’s answer.

  Tai went fishing. “Did you make those calls you were supposed to?”

  David slid free and turned to face him. “I did. I have a physical therapy appointment at three forty-five.”

  “And?” Tai prompted.

  “And my uncle said he couldn’t talk at that moment, but he’d call me back.”

  “Good.”

  The praise didn’t shift David’s eyes from their focus on his knees. The luxury around them might have made Tai aware of the gap between them, but right now he could only see David’s need.

  Tai lifted David’s chin. “Tell me.”

  David blinked, then let his cheek lean into Tai’s hold. “My father—I haven’t seen him since I was ten. Something happened—a girl accused him of having sex with her when she was underage. I don’t remember it very well. There was a lot of money involved and lawyers and then my father left the country. He’s in Venezuela, and if he comes back, they’ll arrest him.” David licked his lips. “My mother….” David paused and shrugged. “I guess she was so embarrassed by it all, she went to Europe, and I went to live with my aunt and uncle.”

  “The same uncle you called.”

  David nodded. Tai tugged David into an embrace, keeping his back pressed tight against Tai’s chest. This time David relaxed.

  “The thing I remember is that the girl claimed she had a ring because my father gave it to her. A family-heirloom thing. We had a painting of my great-great-grandfather wearing it. I was fascinated by it because according to my grandfather, you could spin the gem and underneath was the family seal. But I don’t remember my dad having it.”

  David twirled his foot again, but the ankle didn’t pop. He flexed the ankle with the band back and forth.

  “So that’s how I ended up with this. I ran into a cousin who told me the ring didn’t make it to my dad because his grandfather swiped it and then his uncle lost it on Fort Carroll during some party in the ’90s. If I found it, her case would be shot and my dad could come home.”

  From everything Tai knew about evidence and indictments in general, it seemed like there had to be much more on the side of the accusing girl than her say-so and a ring to keep a man with the kind of power Beauchamp money could buy out of the country. But Tai had promised David trust, not a legal briefing.

  “How did you plan to find a ring on an island, even one that size?”

  David stopped swinging his foot. “I admit I wasn’t too clear on it. I thought I had a good fix from what Beau had told me, about a gun port that faced due east, but that night….” He shook his head. “It seemed like a simple plan.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I know I’d need a metal detector at least. The place is a mess.”

  Despite his best intentions to work the kind of supportive-reflective-de-escalating-listening crap the state forced POs to go to in-services on, Tai couldn’t keep a half grunt, half growl from escaping his throat.

  “And a permit. Or whatever.” David pulled away. “I really don’t want to go to jail. I’m not going to do something stupid.” He rolled his eyes. “This time. I wish I hadn’t dragged Gavin into it that night. Maybe he and his—”

  David’s phone chirped with that bland ringtone, and he sprang off the sofa, winced, and then hobbled to where his deck shorts were hanging off a cabinet knob.

  After retrieving the phone, he mouthed My uncle at Tai before tapping it and bringing it to his ear.

  Either David’s cell phone had impressive reception or his uncle had a particularly loud voice, because there weren’t many words from either side of the conversation that Tai didn’t catch.

  He might not have been familiar with the uncle’s voice, but there was no mistaking the tone for anything but a sneer of disgust as he said, “What kind of trouble are you in now, David?”

  So much for everyone calling him Beach.

  “None. Well, nothing new.” David’s attempt at charm faded fast. “It’s only that Da—my father has been unable to reach you, and he asked me to call in his stead.”

  “Yes.” But there was nothing else forthcoming from the man on the other end of the phone.

  After a moment of impatient tapping on the counter, David faced Tai and made a dramatically exasperated face that did nothing to hide the real tension underneath.

  “Well, sir”—David capitulated to the silence—“he’s concerned.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “About money, sir. About his dividend check.” Into the continuing unhelpful silence, David blurted, “I offered a wire transfer from my account, but he said it wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Small mercy that you never got the full shares.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s not much of a surprise. What do you know about your father’s financial situation?”

  David turned back to the counter, hiding his expressions from Tai. “Nothing.”

  After that whisper, the uncle’s voice was jarring. “Precisely. And you’ve chosen to remain unaware. So don’t pretend you’re going to tax your brain with it now. Might get frown lines on that pretty face of yours.”

  David’s voice deepened but held a note of appeal. “I managed a business degree from a fairly respected institution of higher learning. If you could explain it to me, Uncle Sinclair, I’m sure I could—”

  “And you’ve done what with that exactly? Don’t trouble yourself. Just stay out of it.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, sir. I can’t come down home at present, but—”

  “I’m all too aware of your situation.”

  “But if you could send someone, or I could meet with someone—”

  “It’s a bit late for that, my boy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And you should be on your knees thanking God for that.”

  David went to stare out of a rectangular porthole in the wall, his forehead against the glass. “What am I supposed to tell him when he calls again?”

  “Tell him he damned well knows why.”

  David pulled the phone away from his ear, staring down at the screen, but it was obvious his uncle had disconnected.

  “Well.” David leaned on the counter and smiled. “At least I can cross that off the to-do list. Now, can I buy you lunch?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  TAI’S CLOTHES had progressed from soaked to damp by the time he pulled them back on.

  David continued to talk about anything but his conversation with his uncle.

  “The restaurant here specializes in seafood, unsurprisingly, but it’s quite good, which is surprising.”

  The air had gone muggy after the storm, and t
he damp clothes might be a nice buffer, but Tai had to change into something less jizzed on before going to work, and his dog was waiting to go out.

  “I’m going to run home before I go back to work.”

  “Right. Probably isn’t the best for a probation officer to be seen hanging with an alleged felon in public.”

  Contact with criminals was dead-on for Tai’s job description, but he cut through David’s defensive bullshit. “I’m sorry your uncle wasn’t much help.” Though if the charges were serious enough that David’s father was hiding out in Venezuela, the guy deserved a little inconvenience. Statutory-rape laws existed for good reason.

  David gathered up the damp towels and his long-sleeved shirt, stuffed them into a canvas drawstring bag, and tossed it back up through the hatch. “Dad should have expected it. Uncle Sinclair’s self-righteousness is a lot to live up to. You may have noticed, the rest of us Beauchamps are a bunch of scalawags. Right on back to my carpetbagger great-great-grandfather who got us slung out of Charleston after the war.”

  “David.” Tai could see the name and tone alone couldn’t break through. Something sure needed to. He blocked the hatch, hands braced to either side.

  “I know you have to get back to work. And I need to wash these. Mold is a bitch on a boat. And once it digs in, you might as well forget about ever getting rid of it.”

  Tai got tired of waiting for David’s effort at charming bravado to run down. One step forward and Tai locked him up in a hug.

  “Um. Thanks.” David returned the hug for an instant and then pulled away as much as Tai’s hold let him. Patting Tai’s back a couple of times, David said, “I appreciate it. But it’s no big deal. My family’s shortcomings are not exactly a surprise.”

  When Tai didn’t let go, David pushed. “Really. I’m fine.”

  Tai kissed him, then propped one foot up on the small steps leading to the deck, dragged David forward, and pushed him over Tai’s elevated thigh. “What the hell are you—?”

  Tai swatted his ass, not hard, but enough to make his intention obvious.

  “Let me rephrase that. Why are you doing that? Sir,” David ground out through clenched teeth.

  Tai smacked him three more times, dusting his palm across the top curve, aiming for sting rather than impact. “First, let’s be clear about what I’m doing.” He rested his hand on David’s ass and waited.

  “From what I can tell, you’re blocking the way out and hitting me.” That was his boy, not going down without some fight.

  Tai rubbed David’s back, then swung hard, wrist flicking to make sure there was a good, long sting.

  David jolted forward. “Ow.”

  “We can do this on the sofa with your pants off, or we can do it faster. What am I doing?”

  “Spanking me.”

  Tai squeezed a handful of cheek. “Who am I spanking?”

  “Your submissive, Sir.” David’s voice was rough, but not with suppressed anger anymore.

  “Good. When you were in a similar position last night, what did you tell me?” Tai smoothed the material of David’s shorts over his ass.

  After a long, steady breath, David said, “I will trust you, Sir.”

  “Yes, David.” Tai spanked him fast until he could see the reaction in his lifted head and feet. “You don’t have to talk about what’s going on, but you do not run from me or lie to me.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Tai finished with a few hard swats. “Stand up.” He held David’s arm as he got his balance.

  With his head down, David unbuttoned his shorts and shoved them and his briefs off his hips before leaning forward over Tai’s leg again.

  The rush of heat under Tai’s skin made him want to kiss David, not spank him. But rejecting David’s need, failing the trust in that waiting surrender, would destroy everything they were creating.

  Tai stroked a hand down David’s spine. His David. So resentful of restrictions while craving to be held down, have accountability forced on him. That he shared it with Tai, had confidence in what Tai offered, electrified the air more sharply than the storm, pulsing between them. No. He would not let his boy down.

  Hitching his leg up higher, Tai held David tight at the waist to keep him secure. His ass was barely pink, though following so close after last night’s spanking, it was probably more tender than it looked. Tai wanted to make sure David got the release he was looking for. “Five more. Hang on to my leg. If you reach back, we start over.”

  David latched on to Tai’s calf, muscles tensing as Tai rubbed the hot flesh. “Relax. I’m not going to start until you relax.”

  David let out a long breath and stopped clenching.

  “Good boy.” Tai slammed his hand down under the curve, one swat turning the pink much darker. “What do you need to tell me?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  Tai aimed for the same spot, getting a sharp hiss in response before David repeated his apology. Three more and Tai’s palm was stinging, and there was a faint hand outline in the middle of David’s ass.

  “Stand up.” Tai helped David balance, then led him to the couch, sat, and pulled him down, holding him steady as his breathing slowed. When he shifted on Tai’s lap, arms going around his neck, Tai kissed him.

  “Okay?” Tai whispered against his lips.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I got you something.” Remembering David’s marked wrists and long-sleeved shirt on a day headed for triple-digit temps, Tai had stopped at the leather store before heading for the marina. He pulled a dressier pair of cuffs from his pocket. “I got these for you. They snap and there’s no clip. They’re for decoration, not play.” They were woven from strips of two different shades of brown leather, softer and smoother than a braid, suede against the skin. “Not a collar,” Tai said, wondering if David understood what that would mean, and got a quick nod. “But I want you to wear them for me.”

  David brushed a finger across the pattern, then smiled, offering his wrist, palm up.

  The cuffs were on the decorative side. Not Beach’s usual style, but then everything about Tai was pretty far from Beach’s usual style.

  He didn’t care what they looked like. Could have been made out of neon-green plastic, and they would have still felt good. It wasn’t as if he wanted to try to explain the bruises on his wrists to people with more curiosity than manners, but he liked the dark circle of smudges. All morning he’d snuck glances at them. Accidentally-on-purpose being sure his shirt cuff rode up so he could see them there, the ring a perfect reminder of the dizzying freedom of surrendering to Tai’s dominance.

  Now he had the cuffs and a throbbing burn in his ass. It wasn’t like the pleasure Eli had described. Isolated pain like that was still something to try to avoid as far as Beach was concerned. But after? It was like every bit of stress and frustration and all those endless, unsatisfied wants got flushed out of him, leaving nothing but a peaceful, solid sensation. Being here. Belonging. Not only to Tai but to this moment. Free of the need to go chasing a distraction.

  Funny how something he still didn’t like thinking about and that also hurt more than he thought he could stand made him feel so good afterward. It was the reverse of sex, when things were great in the moment but the letdown after made everything awkward.

  He kept touching the cuffs and sinking into the ache of his sore ass meeting Tai’s hard thighs. Tai rubbed Beach’s back, then kissed him.

  “I’m glad you like them.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Sir.” The Sir came out edged with a shy breath. Beach wished he knew exactly when they were supposed to be Beach and Tai or Sir and David. He knew he had a safeword as a signal for needing to end the scene, but what was a word for saying you were fine with it lasting longer?

  Tai brushed his beard back and forth across Beach’s chin. Soft, then prickly when a hair caught in the wrong direction. “I can stay a bit longer if you want.”

  Beach wanted. Wanted to tell Tai to pack up Jez a
nd they’d fly right out of the harbor. Out to Bermuda or down to the Keys. Away from jobs and pending court dates. Turn this week of discovering each other into a life of it. Beach pictured them on the porch of one of those pretty pastel houses on Key West. Seagrass whispering around them. The Tai in his fantasy never wore a shirt, skin tanning darker in the Florida sun. No ankle monitor. Hell, not even shoes, their bare feet propped up on the porch rail as they watched the sunset.

  Fantasy David and stuck-in-Baltimore Beach rolled an ankle. The pop was satisfying, but the monitor was still there.

  “I know you’re supposed to be out checking on the rest of the miscreants.” Beach smiled and stroked Tai’s beard with his thumb.

  “I’m thinking more of Jez with her legs crossed and a giant pile of files that need updating.”

  Beach leaned in for a kiss, and Tai gave it, holding Beach’s head and pushing that wonderful sensation of being owned into him with lips and tongue. Beach was still high from it as they stepped off the Nancy onto the dock.

  “Who’s Nancy?” Tai asked.

  Beach imagined a hint of jealousy in the deep voice, but he told the truth with a wry smile. “Me, actually.”

  At Tai’s stunned look, Beach explained as they strolled down the dock. “It was the first spring break home from Deerfield. I brought Gavin home—well, to Uncle Sinclair’s to visit. We were fourteen or fifteen, and we kept acting out some skit from school that amused us every time we did it.” He remembered Gavin’s laugh, the way a cowlick made his hair flop up and then down into one eye. “My uncle had a different opinion. ‘Look like a couple of damned nancy boys.’” Beach sneered in imitation. “Gavin got all tense.”

  Poor Gavin. Beach had pretty much picked up on that vibe from his friend, though he hadn’t considered for himself if he was interested in more than some rubbing or touching with another boy.

  “So.” Beach shot a look over at Tai and cleared himself some space for a proper reenactment. “I did this grand bow to my uncle”—he demonstrated—“and said, ‘I think that should be fancy nancy boys, sir.’”

  That sexy-sweet smile teased the corner of Tai’s mouth. He glanced back at Beach’s boat then huffed a single-breath laugh. “What did your uncle say to that?”