by Sara Brookes
The anger Boyce had felt, the jealousy seeing her snuggled up in that boy’s arms on a bench near their apartment building had been the first time Boyce had known something about Grae was different. That she meant more. Thought that perhaps life had far more reaching plans. Ones that Boyce had been incapable of understanding.
The tension-filled dance Saint and Boyce had been circling each other with had ended that very same afternoon the picture had been taken. When they’d seen Grae cavorting with her boyfriend, something had taken hold of them both. They’d come together in a sweaty mass of frustration and pent-up male sexual energy. They’d ravaged each other. Left long trails of angry red scratches as they’d tangled. Mated. Boyce had even left deep ridges in the back of Saint’s hand when the man had penetrated him for the very first time. A mark Saint had repaid several hours later when Boyce had been the one to take Saint.
A balance the two men would discover, in time, had more meaning than they realized.
They’d chalked that long winter’s night up to tension and experimentation, but Boyce had known, in those stolen, passionate moments, his life had been irrevocably changed. Feelings had surfaced. The energy between the men had shifted. Become tangible and real. If they’d been inseparable before that night as friends, they’d become ardent in their need as lovers.
That need had changed again the night the three of them had fallen into bed together the day before the graduation ceremony. The last night they’d seen her before she’d reappeared on their doorstep as a beautiful, graceful woman looking even more gorgeous than they remembered. Broken and crying because her life hadn’t turned out as intended.
“Think I’ll have this framed.” A quiet sniff drifted in the air, and he looked up to find Grae’s shoulders hunched forward. “Grae?”
Her shoulders hitched again.
Alarmed, he tossed aside the picture. The contents of the box she clutched came into view as he squatted beside her. Now his heart beat erratically for a different reason. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and brushed his thumb against a slender square. Over the raised lettering stamped into the metal.
His dog tags.
He was supposed to have surrendered them when his service with the army ended, but he hadn’t been able to part with them.
Boyce Michael Denali.
Remembering the man he used to be, he pulled out another pair of tags. These were from his closest friend, his constant companion, while he had been stationed overseas. The same one who had died in the raid that had also ended Boyce’s military career.
The night that had been the beginning of the end.
“Diega. Her name,” Boyce added when Grae looked up. He wished he had a picture, some memento of Diega so he could show Grae. Show her who had been his anchor in all the time he’d had to spend away from home. From Saint. But he’d burned those long ago. In a fit of rage that Saint had—yet again—talked him down from. Held Boyce as he’d broken.
As he ran his fingers over the raised surface of the tag, the acrid stench of fire, smoke, and ash seared the inside of his nose. “A German shepherd. Older than most of the other bomb-sniffing dogs. But I didn’t care. She’d already done two tours. They were going to retire her, but she wasn’t having any of it. So I said I would take her.”
“You always liked a challenge.” Grae sniffed, tilting her face up to his. “What happened? To you? To her? Unless you don’t want to talk about it...”
“No. It’s all right.” Boyce swallowed, forcing his mind to recall details he’d tried to spend so many years forgetting. He needed to say this. “Ambush. We were camped for the night. Working our way through an area known for attacks. Guards were on duty constantly. Gunfire started around two local time. Missile hits were so frequent I thought the world was ending. One hit nearby, knocked me off my feet and unconscious. When I came to, there was a guy standing over me, rifling through my pockets. Had these in his hand.” Boyce rattled his tags.
“You punched him.”
Her eyes flashed, and Boyce know what she was thinking. “At first. Didn’t seem to faze him, though. So I took him down with a knife I kept tucked in my boot. Right in his throat. Wasn’t going to take any chances the asshole was going to get away.”
Thankfully he hadn’t brought a knife to the scene with Saint and Asha that had sparked his flashback. Up until a few years ago, he’d habitually kept one tucked there, even during a scene. No telling when an emergency situation would arise and a submissive would need to be cut out of a binding that was constricting her in some way. If he’d kept up the practice, there was a real possibility that Saint wouldn’t be there with them today. Thankfully, during the confusion in the desert, he hadn’t reached for the pistol stashed in his waistband.
“I heard the dogs barking. There was so much going on. It felt like it took me forever to make it there.” He’d been convinced someone was playing a trick on him. Moving the area away as he struggled to get closer.
Strange what a mind on the precipice of shattering conjures in the heat of the moment.
Grae set her hand on his arm when he paused, emotion choking him. He hadn’t even spoken to Saint about events in the desert. About the fear and panic that had settled deep in his bones in the blink of an eye. But Saint had never pushed. At least not in that area. As though he’d known Boyce would talk about it when the time was right. Grae wasn’t pushing either, but Boyce felt it was long since time he rid himself of the burden.
“I turned the corner just as a group of enemies opened fire on the dogs.”
He could still hear the high whines of pain sometimes. Had spent a long time wondering if he would ever truly forget. In some way, he never wanted to because it made him feel as though he was dishonoring Diega’s memory in some way.
“I’m so sorry.”
“So were the insurgents.” Boyce remembered barreling over the crowd, not caring how or what happened to him. Revenge had been the driving force. Blinding him with untempered rage. But it didn’t matter.
Nothing would bring them back.
Nothing would change that moment.
The screams would be forever etched in his mind. The barks, whines, and whistles...the men calling for help that couldn’t get there fast enough. All horrific reminders of an event that had left Boyce scarred and unfit for duty.
“They shipped me out the next morning. Honorable discharge a few months later after I finished rehabilitation.”
Like one huge so long and fuck you for your service to your country.
He’d thought he’d stopped being bitter a long time ago, but tearing open the old wounds had brought ragged emotions to the surface. Seemed as though he still had a few more things to deal with. But he had a feeling it would be easier now.
“That’s my story. Diega’s story. My salvation, and my hell.”
She touched his cheek. “You both did a very brave thing.”
“Doesn’t feel that way. But it gets easier. Or so I’m told.”
“It will. I promise.”
The way she said it with such conviction reminded him of Saint. Of how much love he had for these two people who made him believe the world wasn’t as bad of a place as he’d once believed. “I know.”
“I...I have a few connections with some of the animal shelters. Friends who train dogs to be therapy animals for veterans with some of the stresses you’re dealing with. I could make a few phone calls. See what I can find. Whenever you’re ready, of course.”
“I’d like that,” he said quietly as he realized he liked the idea. Maybe he’d find a little bit of closure along the way.
Emotions close to the surface enhanced the sensations swirling through Boyce. He finally noticed his dick was rock hard. Saint’s proclamation in the darkroom had pumped up his already revved system. The photo session with Enver and his sub hadn’t helpe
d matters.
Boyce was usually able to keep himself distant from the sexually charged atmosphere during his photo shoots in order to ensure he captured the perfect image. No need to muddy the waters. But he’d peeled back the layers and exposed a lot during the session. With Saint in the darkroom. And Grae had uncovered even more by spilling his past all over the front hallway.
Caught up on the tidal wave of emotion, he leaned over and captured Grae’s mouth. She groaned, opening to his probing tongue to accept him. She tasted of sweat and hard work, dusty memories, and love. She slid toward him, letting herself be pulled into his strong, welcoming embrace. He cradled her close, reassuring himself that he could let her go when the time came in a few minutes, even though he knew he didn’t want to.
Boyce slid the kiss deeper, trapping her head between his wide hands so he could maneuver her face where he wanted. She angled back, letting him guide her to the floor amid the sea of boxes. He tangled his fingers in her soft cotton sweatpants, letting his fingers follow the curve of each ass cheek. A triumphant shout echoed through his head when she wrapped her thighs around his narrow waist.
Pressed together with her, mouths to pubic bones, he realized her breasts were pressed flat against his chest, her nipples hard, jutting points against his skin as an indication she wasn’t wearing a bra. He fit perfectly between the vee of her thighs, pushing his hard cock against her, feeling the wetness of her pussy through the cotton of her sweatpants.
Reveling in the way she came alive under him.
Wanting more.
“It seems as though I’ve made you wet.”
She nodded, her throat working as she swallowed, then flicked her tongue out over her kiss-swollen lips.
“I think I could probably set you off just by touching you with a single finger pressed ever so gently against your swollen clit right now.”
Grae hissed out a sharp breath when he canted his hips to underscore his threat.
“Do you know Saint is the reason I get up in the morning? I love thinking you’re the reason I want to get in bed at night. And sleep is not what I’m craving.”
Boyce nuzzled her neck, wondering if she knew how vulnerable he was with his emotions riding this high to the surface. If she realized how much of a lifeline she was for him right now. “Do you realize, since the day you showed up, there’s been a spring in Saint’s steps? As though his feet don’t touch the ground because his head is so far into the clouds.”
Her body tensed under his. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, there’s no reason to be sorry at all, Grae.” Boyce slid his hands down, cupped her ass again to keep her legs locked in place around his hips. “No reason at all. I didn’t tell you that to make you uncomfortable. I wanted you to know the effect you have on him. On me.”
“I meant...about everything.”
“You’re trying to find your way. To understand what you want. Have more faith in yourself, Grae. The kind we have in you. You’re braver than you think.” The slant of her lips signaled she didn’t truly believe him. Boyce vowed to make whatever strides were necessary to make her understand.
“I need to get home.”
Boyce’s disappointment surged. He wanted very much to tell her she was already there. Watching her walk out when he was in this state wouldn’t be the hardest thing he’d ever done. But feeling as though he’d failed her was quickly rising to the top of the very short damn list.
“Running already?”
“I’m sweaty from cleaning. Not to mention dirty.”
“I like dirty. In fact, I think you’re at your most beautiful when you’re dirty.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “And before you try to tell me I’m wrong, if anything resembling those words slips past your lips, I will toss you over my knee and spank your gorgeous ass so every time you sit down tomorrow, you’ll remember what I said.”
His commanding statement caused her to jolt underneath him, but he wasn’t interested in softening his words or his voice. “Are you sure you’re determined to run away again? Saint was pretty explicit with his plans for tonight. And they include both of us.”
Resolve shined clear in her green eyes, telling him all he needed to know.
“Still not enough to sway you to come to the club. All right. I’ll let this go for the moment. But know this, baby, you affect us in a special way, and we’re not going to give up on you. Don’t give up on yourself either.”
Chapter Seventeen
An hour later, Boyce found Saint near the bar at Noble House, standing on a stool. He’d pulled back his hair in order to work and, at some point, had stripped away his shirt. Boyce had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud when a string of expletives filled the room. Saint shook his head, shoving a pair of pliers between his teeth as he growled softly and twisted a bundle of wires together.
“Having trouble?”
“Yeah.” Saint wiped his forearm over his sweat-soaked forehead. “Do me a favor, will you? Can you flip that switch in Kochran’s office? The blue one in the breaker panel? Second one down.”
Boyce couldn’t stop admiring the way Saint moved as he worked. Hell, who’d want to? All that sinew and muscle just waiting to be explored. Boyce flipped the breaker. The row of flat screens mounted on a shelf above Kochran’s desk flickered to life. Saint’s arm was displayed on all three screens as he capped the wires.
“Picture looks damn good to me.”
Saint grunted. “The resolution is still shit. I need to upgrade the HDMI cables, but Kochran keeps dragging his feet.”
Like that was news. “He ever change the password?”
“Nope. Still hasn’t. I’m going to fuck up his world one day just because I can. And gonna laugh in his face when he comes complaining about it.” Saint’s last words faded off into a hiss as Boyce ran his hand over Saint’s denim-clad ass.
“Got twenty minutes or so for a break?”
“Only twenty?” Saint’s gaze traveled slowly over Boyce. “Fucking amateur.” Despite the harsh statement his eyes fluttered closed as Boyce tugged on the row of buttons at the front of his jeans. “Where’s Grae?”
A pang stabbed through Boyce at the memory of watching her leave. “Said she was tired after all the cleaning. Told us to enjoy ourselves.” No need to tell Saint the truth. He would know anyway. Boyce parted the zipper on Saint’s jeans, exposing the trail of fine hair mapping across Saint’s abdomen.
“Oh, she did, huh?”
Boyce slid his hands around, pushing Saint’s jeans down over his hips. Boyce leaned closer, basking in the scent of hard work, flicking his tongue out to savor the saltiness of his lover. “Fuck yeah. And I intend to.”
He pushed away the briefs, freeing Saint from the confines of the fabric. Boyce wanted to be everywhere at once. He settled on a pec, a bared hip, a strong wrist. Hungry for more, Boyce closed his mouth around the crown of Saint’s dick. The pliers Saint had been holding hit the floor with a clatter, his fingers tunneling through Boyce’s mane of hair. Insatiable now, Boyce pushed down, taking more of Saint into his mouth. Fueled by lust, he didn’t stop until his nose brushed against the hard ridge of Saint’s abs.
Saint loosed a deep, gut-wrenching growl, withdrawing slightly as he clung to Boyce. “Oh, fuck.”
Boyce stroked his tongue against the slit, the flavor of the man standing over him spreading through his senses. Pushing away the darkness as only his lover had been able to do.
As Saint continued to move, Boyce stripped open his own pants, freeing himself. He beat a few quick strokes, groaning around Saint’s cock. Boyce remembered the last time they’d been together. Alone. Before Grae had reappeared in their lives.
The sound of Saint’s belt striking his ass resonated through him. He remembered writhing under the man as Saint had turned his ass several different shades of red.
Remembered the rosy glow that had filled him for days afterward. The pain that had flashed white-hot every time he’d sat.
Jesus, he fucking loved this man and everything Saint made him feel. Want.
Loving Saint made him feel as though he could do anything. And right now, all Boyce wanted to do was suck Saint. To get off with him, follow him into oblivion. The burn glowing inside him flared brighter, hotter. Boyce’s cock was heavy in his hand as he continued to work both of them into a frenzy.
Sucking.
Pulling.
He ran his tongue up the shaft, savoring each flavor of Saint that was deposited in his mouth. Fucking his fist, working his mouth over Saint, Boyce felt lightheaded. But still, he wanted to fuck Saint until they were both a sweaty, dripping mess on the floor.
He also wanted Saint to fuck him. Fast. And hard. So, so fucking hard.
The juxtaposition of his need only frustrated Boyce. Every creative curse he knew screamed to be unleashed. But Boyce wasn’t about to release his hold on Saint in order to set them free. Saint tasted too damn good to let that happen.
Shocks of pleasure caused his toes to curl in his boots. His thigh muscles clenched tight as he fought against climax. Not without Saint. Boyce’s primal urges gushed forth, and took over. Driving him. Growling, he yanked his hand away from his cock, redoubling his efforts with his mouth. In one smooth move, he relaxed his throat and swallowed Saint whole. Saint snarled as he started to pump rapidly into Boyce’s willing mouth. With each thrust, Boyce swallowed, constricting around the cockhead.
Suddenly, Saint pulled away with a loud roar.
Driving need caused Saint to jerk Boyce to his feet and crushed their mouths together as he spun them. That wonderful fucking mouth. It had taken all Saint’s control not to blow down Boyce’s throat, but he’d felt Boyce’s need. Swore he could almost see it shimmering off Boyce in waves.
