Demons Within [For Love of Authority] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Rhiannon Ayers

  She raised an eyebrow in answer to Allen’s stunned gasp. “Every single one of those complaints said it was bad enough that Brock was bullying half the staff and trying to blackmail the other half, but having to watch him torture you, day in, day out, and yet seeing you stand up to him so boldly and yet so professionally—it made them all realize they were the ones who were chicken-shit for not doing anything to help you. Whether you realize it or not, Allen, you’ve already earned the respect and admiration of every other person in this company. They asked me to intervene, not because they didn’t think you could handle yourself, but because they were ashamed they hadn’t stood up for you sooner.”

  Allen blinked. “That…that can’t…wait, what…?”

  Sidri had risen from her desk, circled around behind where he sat in the visitor’s chair, and placed a graceful hand on his shoulder before bending down and whispering, “I told you before, we need you. You, not selfish assholes like Brock Ashburn. We take care of our own. Remember that.”

  After giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, she quietly left the office, leaving Allen staring blankly out the window. It was a long, long time before he could bring himself to get up and walk out of that room. Not because her words had stunned him, though they had. Her touch on his shoulder, her breath near his ear, the heat radiating from her luscious body and rolling over him in drugging waves—all those things had combined to create a tsunami of lust so strong his cock could’ve been used for a baseball bat. He’d had to recite the periodic table, think about poor, dead puppies, and finally picture his father’s sneering, hateful face before he could get his hard-on to subside enough to get him out of the office and down that hall unremarked upon. Even so, he’d made a beeline for the private, lockable men’s room that was almost never used—and ended up having to jerk off three times, just to get his erection to stay down for the rest of the day.

  To date, that was by far the worst of his lustful transgressions, but it was by no means the last. And he still had no idea how to turn it off.

  “Earth to Tonto!” Keelan called, snapping his fingers not three inches from Allen’s nose. Allen jumped and locked eyes with his former mentor. Keelan’s bushy eyebrows were crawling along his receding hairline, cloudy eyes bright and mischievous. “You get lost somewhere in that great big head of yours? ‘Cause your body was here, but your hamsters sure as hell weren’t.”

  “Sorry, man. Space cadet, I guess,” Allen laughed, grateful for the old man for bringing him back to the present. No way did he want to revisit those shameful memories, especially not when…

  Another light knuckle-rap on the doorframe announced his next visitor. Sidri stood in the hallway, looking mouthwatering as usual in a black peachskin suit with a power-red blouse underneath. Her lipstick, nail polish, and fuck-me red pumps all matched the shirt perfectly. Normally, Allen hated it when redheads wore the color red, since it usually clashed horribly with their hair and skin tone. But Sidri’s hair was such a deep shade of auburn, kissed with streaks of gold from exposure to sunlight, that the color looked simply stunning on her.

  Then again, she could wear a paper bag and Allen would still say it looked simply stunning on her. Damn his hormones anyway.

  Sidri floated into the room, flashing a wink Keelan’s way before focusing all that feminine intensity on Allen. “You finished admiring your new digs? We’ve got Tatum on the horn in conference room D in five minutes.”

  “You bet,” Allen said with a smile, waving as Keelan gave their mutual boss a two-fingered salute and sauntered out the door, no doubt to look for someone else to annoy on his last official day as an employee of MM&M.

  Sidri watched the old man go then turned back to Allen with her adorable button nose wrinkled. “Someday, that man is going to forget that second finger when he ‘salutes’,” she said with a grin.

  Allen laughed. “Someday? Bet you ten dollars he’ll be giving all of you bigwigs the one-finger salute when he hauls ass out of here.”

  “No bet.” Sidri laughed. “I never bet when the odds aren’t in my favor. Come on, we’re going to be late. Tatum’s been anxious to have this meeting all day.”

  So was Allen.

  Allen rose from his chair, unable to stop himself from giving the baby-soft black leather an affectionate pat. The movement also gave him a moment to clear his expression, and hopefully the blush heating his ears.

  He had no reason to feel embarrassed, or anxious, or any of the other myriad emotions he was feeling about this upcoming meeting. After two years, it really shouldn’t matter anymore, after all. But, somehow, he couldn’t get over the feeling that, despite today being his official promotion and supposedly the greatest day of his life because of it, the real thing he’d been waiting for all this time was the meeting they were about to go to.

  Today, for the first time in two years, he would see Tatum face-to-face.

  It was ironic, really. Tatum had been the one to find his photos first, had been the one to call him and inform him he had the job. And yet that emergency phone call he’d received the morning of Allen’s first day had set off an avalanche of obstacles that kept them from meeting in person. That very day, Tatum had taken off for London, and he’d been there ever since. It seemed the Creative Director over there had had a stroke, and no one knew if he would be willing to or capable of returning to work when he recovered. Rather than simply fire the poor man and replace him, Tatum had flown to London and taken over daily operations, quietly keeping the company running while giving the old Creative Director time to heal.

  It said a lot about the company that they were willing to do that.

  Tatum had been over there ever since, and despite numerous attempts to set up a video chat between him, Allen, and Sidri, something had always happened to change their plans. Allen had spoken to Tatum on the phone numerous times, exchanged thousands of e-mails with the man. But he’d never seen him except in photos, never spoken to him face-to-face.

  Today was the day he’d finally get to do so. And Allen couldn’t shake the feeling that this one conversation would have more influence over his future than anything else that had happened to him in the last two years.

  Which made no sense. At all.

  Brushing aside his irrelevant feeling, Allen quickly scooped up his iPad and gestured for Sidri to precede him out the door. In the hallway, he quickly caught up and walked beside her—she’d made it clear a long time ago that she hated it when people treated her like a queen, “walking three steps behind with eyes on my shoes at all times.” So he walked next to her. And damn if it didn’t feel good doing so.

  She was the perfect height. Allen always hated that his Columbian blood meant he was destined to be so short. But Sidri was small enough that, even with high heels, she only came up to his nose. That their strides seemed to complement one another was a bonus, making it seem the most natural thing in the world to rest his fingers at the small of her back. Not that he ever did, of course. Not only would it be terribly inappropriate, he was dead certain Sidri—and Tatum—would kill him for showing such familiarity.

  He thought about that as he and Sidri headed for the private conference rooms located behind the accounting department. Allen wasn’t sure when he’d figured out that Sidri and Tatum were lovers. It wasn’t like they flaunted their relationship or anything. Sidri never mentioned having a boyfriend, never brought a man to a company function or put a photo of some random guy on her desk. She did have photos of Tatum in her office, but had explained them away when Allen asked, saying that the two of them had literally grown up together, even going to the same preschool, and that he’d been her best friend since they were in diapers. And of course, all of his conversations with Tatum had been focused on business, not their personal lives. So he supposed he had no real evidence to back up his theory that the two of them were sleeping together. It was just instinct.

  The way she spoke about him, as if Tatum’s opinion mattered more than anyone else’s, period. The way she alwa
ys got this funny little smile on her face whenever she looked at Tatum’s photos on her desk. That little twinkle in her eye when she told Allen stories about their antics growing up together, about how much trouble they’d managed to get into with their parents. It was obvious, more than obvious, that she loved him deeply.

  Of course, there was the slight possibility that Sidri did love Tatum, while Tatum was completely unaware of it. But Allen sincerely doubted it. No way was Tatum that blind, deaf, and dumb to miss such obvious signals. If he was that clueless, then he was a complete, utter fool for passing up on his opportunity to be with such a spectacular woman.

  But Allen had been basking in the reflected glory of Sidri’s attraction for long enough that he could be pretty sure his assumptions about their relationship were true. He could literally feel how much she wanted the other man whenever she spoke about him, and he had no doubt he would get the same vicarious high when Tatum showed his attraction for Sidri.

  Did it make him a masochist that he enjoyed feeling their mutual attraction? Most guys, he supposed, would be jealous beyond belief that the woman they wanted so clearly desired someone else. But then, Allen had always been wired differently from other men.

  In more ways than one, came the hateful thought. Allen squashed it back down with the other foul memories he refused to acknowledge.

  No, instead of jealousy, he found himself rooting for them, praying to be allowed just a tiny glimpse into their love for one another. He wanted to be a piece of furniture in their lives, acknowledged as useful but only part of their private interactions by proxy. Their love was so strong, Allen would gladly sit at their feet, grateful to be allowed to witness it, though he’d never be allowed to participate.

  It was the closest he’d ever get to feeling what it was like to be loved.

  Sidri suddenly threw open the conference room door, and Allen realized he’d been mooning throughout their entire walk. Shaking his head at himself, he pulled his inappropriate thoughts back behind the iron curtain in his mind and tried to pretend he felt nothing but professional interest in what came next.

  When Sidri seated herself near the giant flat-screen TV, Allen did the same, only on the opposite side of the table. She fiddled with the remotes while using the com system to ask the receptionists to patch Tatum through to their conference room. Allen watched, amazed that he could be turned on so much simply watching her do mundane tasks, and somehow missed it when the giant screen lit up. He did see Sidri’s smile, however, and the sparkle of lust in her eyes. Which had to mean…

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the elusive Allen Heras,” a deep, extremely masculine voice rumbled just behind him. “I’d say this meeting was long overdue, but we both know that would be the understatement of the century.” This was followed by a booming chuckle that vibrated down Allen’s spine disconcertingly.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Allen pasted a welcoming smile on his face and turned to face the huge monitor.

  And with sinking heart and rising libido, he finally understood. Today wasn’t the first day of the rest of his life. It was the day he finally managed the self-destruction he’d been heading toward all along.

  God help me, I am so screwed.

  Chapter 4

  Eyes riveted on the tall, trim, fucking gorgeous man framed by the giant TV screen, Allen thought, No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening.

  Thirteen years. It had been thirteen years since he realized he could be just as attracted to men as he was to women. And the day he finally understood the truth about his aberration was the same day he ran away from home.

  Accepting the truth about his depravity was one thing. Acting on it was something altogether different. He’d managed to stuff his unnatural desires somewhere deep inside, so deep, in fact, that in thirteen years he’d never once slipped up, never once even come close to exposing himself.

  Until today.

  Time stopped. Jesus, the photos on Sidri’s desk did not do this man justice. Tatum was all blond hair and heavy muscles, narrow hips and massive shoulders. With those ruggedly handsome features and that carefree smile, he must have women throwing themselves—or their panties—at him every day. He was very much a man’s man, with a clear Alpha set to his square-cut jaw. And that body…

  Despite being short, Allen was no lightweight. He worked out every day, and his body was gratifyingly endowed with thick, heavy muscles that allowed him to pack one hundred eighty pounds on his five-foot-nine frame. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and his arms nicely defined, so that, even while standing next to men who were taller than him, he didn’t feel small in comparison.

  Tatum, on the other hand, dwarfed him. At six foot seven, he had a good forty pounds over Allen, and not one iota of that weight was fat. Sidri had shown him a photo of her and Tatum at the beach, so he’d had one slightly out-of-focus chance to see that Tatum was ripped, with a full eight pack, heavy pecs, and biceps the size of tree trunks. He hadn’t realized until this very moment that he’d filed that picture away in his mind, ready to pop into his brain the moment he saw Tatum for the first time in real life.

  The man didn’t disappoint.

  Frozen, choked by horrifying, appallingly inappropriate waves of lust for another man, Allen could do nothing but stare.

  “Holy Christ Mary Mother of God, you really are gorgeous.”

  Allen flinched. Jesus Christ, had he really said that out loud? Had he no control over his mouth anymore? How could he say something so mortifying?

  But then he heard Sidri’s exasperated, “Tatum!” and realized it hadn’t been him—Tatum had been the one to say what Allen was thinking out loud.

  What the fuck?

  To Allen’s surprise, Tatum actually blushed, his ears turning bright red. He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It’s just, you know, I’d had several people tell me you were a good-looking guy, but to find out they weren’t exaggerating…” He shrugged, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

  Okay, now it was Allen’s turn to blush. He had no idea what to do with this conversation, no idea how he was supposed to react. Obviously, Tatum was not saying that he himself was attracted to Allen—such an occurrence was about as likely as astronauts discovering recipes for German sausage on Mars. That he was embarrassed by his outburst meant he was afraid Allen would misunderstand his intent.

  Did Tatum think Allen was gay? Christ God Almighty, please let this not be happening…

  Sidri’s silvery, velvet-coated laugh went a long way toward calming Allen’s budding panic. She shot Allen an amused look before shaking her head at Tatum. “Now, as ever, you have no control over that mouth. When will you ever think before you speak, Tatum?”

  The big man shrugged, his discomfort gone in an instant. “Hey, man, I gotta be me. Well, since I fucked up the introductions, let’s move right on to business, shall we?”

  Allen cleared his throat and managed a nod, which Sidri echoed. Tatum beamed at both of them. “I have two bits of awesome news to report. Well, three, I guess. But first thing’s first. That Versace ad campaign you created for us, Allen? They abso-friggin’-lutely loved it. We are now the official advertising agency for the entire global Versace enterprise, and all thanks to your phenomenal photos. Kudos, man. There will be major bonuses coming down the pipeline after a victory like this.”

  That damn blush was back again, turning his ears beet-red while Allen sat through Tatum and Sidri’s heartfelt congratulations. He bobbed his head in what he hoped came across as a nod of acceptance for their praise, still unable to find his voice.

  Tatum chuckled, bringing Allen’s embarrassed gaze back to the screen. “Modest as ever, I see. Well, good for you. As good as you are, it would be too fucking easy to let your ego get ahead of your talent. Arrogant assholes have no place here at MM&M. That you aren’t one when you have every right to be says a lot for your personal character. Congrats, man. You’re doing a fantastic job, on and off the cour
t.”

  Basketball euphemisms aside, Tatum’s praise sent little fireballs of pleasure straight to Allen’s balls. He grimaced, desperately trying to shove his lust back in the closet where it belonged, with little hope of success. Fortunately, Tatum had taken his silence for acquiescence, because he moved on.

  “Second bit of news. Lawrence Hamilton has made a complete recovery.”

  That made both him and Sidri sit bolt upright. Lawrence was the Creative Director whose stroke had forced Tatum to spend the last two years in London. If he was recovered, that meant…

  Tatum’s grin and Sidri’s whoop of glee confirmed his next words. “Yep, that’s my third bit of news. With Lawrence back, I’m free from my exile. I’m coming home.”

  A thousand thoughts crashed through Allen’s mind at once. Holy fuck, what the hell was he supposed to do? Tatum, coming here? If he had this strong of a reaction to the man simply looking at him on a computer screen, what would it be like in person? And having both Tatum and Sidri here, together, at the same time? Christ God Almighty, he’d turn into nothing more than a walking hard-on.

  They were his bosses, for Christ’s sake. That one of them was a man was irrelevant—it was completely inappropriate for him to lust after either one of them. Not only would it cause a company-wide scandal if his attraction became known, he had no doubt he’d be fired in a nanosecond. It was damning enough that he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was bisexual in the first place. To have his depravity brought to bright, screaming life here and now, just when he’d thought he’d left his old sins behind, was almost too much to bear.

  I can’t do this. I’m going to have to quit. I can’t be trapped with both of them. What if they find out? What if I can’t hide how much I want them? God, they’ll both be disgusted. And they won’t even know the half of it. Even if they did want me, I wouldn’t let them touch me. Couldn’t let them touch me. I’m stained, tainted.