Past Hurts (Sizzling Miami Book 1)

by Jessie G

  “How is that any different than watching you become the high-powered CEO of the Bennett Group…without me? You don’t think I was proud of you and pissed at myself for not being part of your accomplishment? Please.” Davin scoffed. “We’re not quitters. If we get knocked down, we get back up. If we take on a job, we have to succeed. I loved that about you and you used to love that about me.”

  “I do love that about you.”

  “Then I don’t understand the problem. We missed each other, Ric. That’s all. And now, we’re here and I don’t want to miss out anymore.” Davin leaned in and pressed their lips together, then whispered against his mouth, “If you think it’s bad to want my submission, then what does that say of me because I want your control?”

  Forget catching up, he either took the leap now or he was going to lose the amazing man who had already given him far too many chances. “I don’t think it’s bad, far from it. I think it’s a gift, that you’re a gift, and I adore what we have together.”

  “Much better,” Davin teased, offering him another kiss as a reward. “So, does this mean you’re done making foolish comparisons to your brother? Because I gotta tell you, I never expected you to look for similarities to him.”

  “We’re brothers, there were always comparisons drawn. Is it so farfetched to think that whatever made him a monster is inside me too?”

  “Trust me, it’s not inside you.” With that declaration, Davin sat back on his heels, straightened his spine, and squared his shoulders. “Ric, I’m going to solve this case because we both need the closure and then I’m turning in my badge. But I can’t wait until then to say that I need you to be my Ric again.”

  “You said before that it was your strength I doubted and that’s not true. It was my own. All those years ago, you gave me a gift. You put your entire wellbeing in my hands. Living openly gay with me, trusting me to make the right decisions for us, embracing my control, and you were so beautifully free and at peace. I was honored to be the person who could make you happy and that made my failure so much harder to take.”

  They talked a lot about guilt and blame, and where it belonged. They also talked about their reactions. Some of the decisions they made, though colored by a horrific experience, were wrong and that’s where he failed. Owning that failure was the only way he could let it go.

  “You forgave me long before I forgave myself. That’s why I couldn’t catch up.”

  “Are you caught up now, Ric?”

  “I’m caught up now, Davin.”

  A deep shuddering breath went through his detective before he asked, “Are you hungry? Dinner should be done by now.”

  “You need more than dinner, don’t you?” When Davin just nodded, he reminded, “You have to use your words, or I won’t know what you need.”

  Voice low and intimate, head high and face determined, Davin was the picture of confidence when he said, “I need you to spank me.”

  If he thought for a second Davin was doing it for him, Alaric would have refused. But there was no doubt in the eyes looking back at him, only lust and love. And need. His detective needed, therefore he needed to give. “Put dinner in the warmer and meet me in the bedroom.”

  “Yes, Ric.”

  He continued to sit there as Davin rose, leaned in for a quick kiss, and then sauntered off toward the kitchen. Only when he was out of sight did Alaric stand and make his way toward their bedroom where he made himself comfortable at the base of the bed. That’s where Davin found him a few moments later, fully dressed and waiting.

  Though it was obvious he’d been rushing, Davin’s step slowed as soon as he entered the room. His posture straightened and his chin went up…his all-powerful sex slave.

  Once he’d teased that good little boys bowed their heads toward authority, to which Davin responded that bad little boys get spankings and his detective loved a good spanking. Truth was, he never wanted Davin to bow to him in any way, much preferring that proud arrogance over anything that resembled shame.

  “Undress and fold your clothes neatly on the chair, then come stand before me.” Alaric wouldn’t deny that he got a boost from the easy way Davin complied, but that wasn’t what had his attention this time. Of the two of them, Davin was the one who’d changed the most, and it was all he could do to sit there watching instead of licking every visible inch.

  Then Davin was naked and coming forward to take the spot Alaric indicated. “Do I please you, Ric?”

  “You do.” Though he appeared to be showing off, Alaric could see Davin’s discomfort at being on display. It wasn’t the nudity that bothered him, or the intimacy they shared, it was the knowledge that Alaric was looking that tripped him up. “If I had my way, you’d be naked all the time. Do you remember when I’d come home after work and find you cooking dinner naked, just waiting for me to find you?”

  “How could I forget? You were very appreciative of my attire.”

  “Then you were long and lean, a runner’s body. Now it’s as if a sculptor took a loving hand to every beautiful inch. It may take me a lifetime to learn all your new muscles.” Cheeks scalding with embarrassment, Davin looked down, realized his mistake and looked back up. “I’ll consider letting that go on one condition.”

  “What’s the condition?”

  “Tell me what you see when you look in the mirror.”

  “I don’t really look at myself as a whole, just the parts that need tending. Brushing my hair, trimming my beard…” Davin frowned. “I focus on the task, not the face.”

  “Why? It’s a gorgeous face.”

  “It’s fractured.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After…my face wasn’t recognizable. All I could see were the bruises and swelling, and then I would remember.” Davin cleared his throat and admitted, “Even after they healed.”

  It’s fractured. “Did you break the mirror?”

  “All of them.”

  Alaric hesitated. The issue was too important to let slide, but Davin had expressed a need, clearly, determinedly, and he couldn’t ignore that either. “Someday soon we’ll stand at the mirror together and you’ll see yourself through my eyes.”

  “I’ll do my best, Ric.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He was under no illusion that it would be easy or that he could magically fix it just because that’s what he wanted. But they would do their best and if they needed help, he would convince Davin to call one of those therapists he mentioned knowing. Until then, Alaric would give them both what they craved. “Come here.”

  Alaric opened his arms and Davin stepped into them, taking a quick hug before he stretched out across his lap, found his favorite spot and settled in with a sigh. Again, he was struck by the physical changes that were even more pronounced in this vulnerable position. Davin was stronger and broader than him, physically more powerful, and definitely not someone who could be forced to his knees or across someone’s lap. That strength made this a true act of submission.

  “Why are you across my lap?” He asked as he encouraged Davin to spread his legs, giving him access to everything.

  “Because I need you to spank me, Ric.”

  “Were you bad?” Using just the tips of his fingers, he followed the curve where cheek met thigh, dipped low along his perineum, before trailing up the crease between his cheeks, then repeating the process on the other cheek. Beneath his touch, Davin shifted and clenched, the flex of muscle giving him new lines to explore. “Were you?”

  “No, Ric.”

  “Then why are you across my lap?”

  “Because when you spank me, I feel your authority and your ownership, and I need to feel that again, Ric.” It was no different than needing to hear Davin say his name, to have that tacit link connecting him specifically to Davin’s desires. It never dawned on them to question the psychology behind it. All either of them had to do was ask and the other was there to answer.

  “Do you want a stop word?”

  “No, Ric, I trust you.”
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  The first crack of flesh against flesh sent a bolt of satisfaction through them both and the bloom of pink on that pale skin was all it took to shed any lingering doubts. Keeping one hand at the small of Davin’s back, Alaric rained a steady pattern across his ass. Davin remained pliant beneath him, absorbing each point of contact with a moan and encouraging more.

  “If only you could see how beautiful your ass looks now that it’s pink and warm from my hand,” Alaric murmured, pausing to stroke and squeeze the tender flesh. “Tomorrow, we’ll go online and buy some toys. The next time you’re over my lap, I want this ass filled.”

  “Yes, Ric.”

  That yes, Ric played in his head as he delivered another stinging slap, this one stronger than the last. Davin pushed into it and demanded another, and Alaric knew they were finally home.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Davin

  “Do you think I need to wear a suit for this nonsense?” Davin was standing in the closet, still damp from his shower, and held up his only two suits in frustrated indecision. “Tell me again why I have to stop my investigation to give some damn speech. Didn’t I ask the Captain to keep the press out of my face?”

  “You’re giving the speech because the press is making up their own shit now and it’s not helping the case. Think of it as a chance to appeal to the victims. Maybe something you say will inspire them to come forward.”

  “I hate when you’re right.” He actually loved when Alaric was right, or when Alaric did anything. What he hated was putting on a suit and talking to the vultures. “But why does it have to be me? The MPD has this prim little press liaison who probably sat up all night writing the perfect speech. My time is better served on the streets, not reading pretty words.”

  “The press liaison isn’t going to express what you’re feeling, she isn’t going to convey the gravity or urgency, and she won’t be able to appeal to people she can’t relate to. If you don’t like her script, toss it. Your own words would be better anyway.”

  Looking over at Alaric, who was already impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit with a black dress shirt and matching gray tie, Davin sighed. Every piece fit like they were made specifically for him, probably by some flamboyant tailor named Hans who sipped cappuccino between each stitch. The effect was all masculine, well to do, and just slightly off putting. Fucking Hans.

  “Something wrong, Detective?”

  “Must you always look so perfectly put together?”

  “And here I was wondering how I ever realized you were gay.”

  “Since when does sucking cock go hand in hand with dressing well?”

  “When you put it like that…” Alaric could try to hide his smile all day long. Davin knew when he was being laughed at. “Just wear what you normally wear.”

  “Jeans and a button down?” Davin would very much prefer that, but he didn’t want to mess this up almost as much as he didn’t want to do it at all. “To a press conference?”

  “Yes. But go dark. Black jeans, black button down, and your biker boots. You’re a badass cop with a job to do, not a mouthpiece for the MPD—might as well look the part.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Tossing the towel in the hamper, Davin strode to the dresser, well aware of Alaric’s gaze following him. “A badass, huh?”

  “My badass with the sore bottom.” Resting a shoulder at the door to Davin’s closet, Alaric eyed the dry-cleaning bag hanging in the back. “Before you leave the force, I really want to see you in your dress blues.”

  “You mean you really want to see me strip out of my dress blues?”

  “I’ll bring dollar bills and popcorn.”

  “Dollar bills, huh? Surely my sore bottom is worth more than that.” Purposely giving Alaric his back, Davin bent forward to step into briefs. When a big hand curved over one bare cheek, lingering for a moment, he sighed. Yeah, it was going to be a shitty day, but the memory of that touch would make it bearable.

  “With that pretty pink flush still visible, it’s definitely worth more.”

  Before he could cover up, Alaric leaned down and pressed a kiss to each tender cheek. If the clock wasn’t ticking on this press conference, he’d beg for more, but it wouldn’t do for the lead Detective to walk in late and looking like he’d just been fucked.

  “Do I pass?” Fully clothed, Davin turned with his arms outstretched and raised an eyebrow in question. It could have been a tease, but having Alaric look him over was better than looking in the mirror, so his question was serious. Except instead of answering, Alaric’s expression softened into something that looked suspiciously like pity. “Never mind, I’ll look myself.”

  “Watch your tone.”

  “I don’t want your fucking pity. I thought we got past that last night.”

  Straightening to his full height, Alaric crossed the space until he blocked out everything else in Davin’s line of sight. “Look again and all you’ll see is love. With that comes care and concern, and no matter what you say, you can’t twist that into something ugly.”

  “Yes, Ric.”

  “Tone, Davin.”

  He met Alaric’s warning stare and realized he was taking his frustration out on the wrong person. They were stalled on the case and the Captain pushed this press shit on him at the last second, and none of that was Alaric’s fault. “I’m sorry, Ric, it was my mistake. I love that you care enough to worry about me, and I know it isn’t because you see me as weak or because you pity me. I just…I guess I have to work on accepting it without getting defensive.”

  “We’ll work on it together.” Alaric said those words so often, he should have them tattooed on his forehead.

  Imagining it made Davin smile, and he promised, “It won’t happen again.”

  “Misunderstanding my concern or that surly tone?”

  “Ah, well.” He laughed outright. The tone would definitely happen again, especially if he were angling for a punishment. “I make no promises on the tone.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you did.” Alaric met his laughter with another soft smile before he schooled his expression, crossed his arms, and quirked a brow. “Now ask me again, Davin.”

  “Do I pass?”

  “You’re not asking right.”

  “Do I pass, Ric?”

  Humming in approval, Alaric walked a slow circle around him and nodded. “Yes, that’s my warrior.”

  “Warrior?” Davin looked down at himself curiously.

  “Definitely, and I’m going to enjoy stripping away all that armor.”

  The liaison for the Miami Police Department took the microphone and thanked the press for coming before giving them the rules. “Detective Monroe will give a statement first, then the floor will be opened for five minutes for you to ask your questions about the serial rapist’s case only. Any other questions will be ignored. Try to be orderly, folks.”

  Stepping aside, the liaison offered him the podium with a reassuring smile, as if that would convince him he wasn’t being led to the slaughter. Behind him, Alaric and his parents stood in supportive silence, having already been warned not to answer any questions the press might try to direct at them. At Davin’s request, Bethany was not present, and he figured it might be another eight years before she deigned to speak with him again.

  All because the press needed something to report and wasn’t above making up their own details, even if it impeded their case.

  “Look. We all know how these things work. The press liaison writes the speech, I stand here and read it, and then let you guys rake me over the coals. Which, let me tell you, sounds like the first circle of hell.” Though he wasn’t trying to be funny, several reporters laughed, and he figured that was his cue to wipe the smiles off their faces. “Here’s the deal. You already know what Terence Bennett did to me and you still filled your shows and papers with your half-assed theories. Who’s got time for that crap? I’m not here to come out for your amusement. The Bennetts are my family, Alaric is my partner, and I don’t understand why yo
u’re wasting time gossiping about us and ignoring the threat.”

  He looked out over the crowd and saw the surprise on their faces. Remorse would be better, but at least they weren’t laughing anymore. “Folks, we have a predator targeting men and women of all ages and ethnicities. Let me say that again, he doesn’t discriminate against gender, age, or ethnicity. Right now, he’s in limbo because his partner is dead, and we need to stop him before he regroups.”

  No doubt the speech in his pocket was more eloquent, but nothing worked better than the ugly truth. “Sadly, sexual assault is still grossly under reported, especially by men. I understand. I was one of those men who were ashamed to admit they were violated, but that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do today. If you or anyone you know was attacked by Terence Bennett and his partner, please come talk to us. We have hotlines set up with counselors to help you through the process. I know it won’t be easy, but if we stand together, we can stop this guy for good.”

  Standing at the podium, on display for their benefit, he hoped they could see his sincerity and be inspired to get help, whether through the police or one of the many support groups Miami offered. “For everyone else, consider this a warning. Be vigilant, notice your surroundings, avoid routines, go out in groups, and please, watch each other’s backs. I’ve stood over too many victims in my career. Help me stop this guy before I have to stand over one of you.”

  At first, no one moved, and he could see the harsh reality sinking in. Beyond being reporters, they were people with loved ones they worried about and he just gave them a reason to fear. Thankfully, before it could become awkward, the press liaison leaned across to speak into the microphone. “Detective Monroe will take questions now.”

  Several hands went up and he pointed to a woman in the front row. “Detective Monroe, do you have any leads at all?”

  “My team is pouring over the evidence we collected at Terence Bennett’s apartment and we believe we’ll find the partner’s identity during processing, but that takes precious time. We’ll be able to catch him sooner if someone is willing to talk to us.”