by Lynn Stark
Because Neville had talked him out of having bodyguards with him, Deacon had taken other measures to protect him. He had given the sheriff and the deputies the codes for the building and the apartment. Deacon had changed it from a key lock the week before. He felt it was important that if Neville was in trouble, those best equipped to protect him should have access.
Now Tim was on his way up to give them both hell. This should be good, he thought, looking forward to Neville’s punishment.
“Dearest,” he called playfully, “we’re about to have company.”
“I’m not home!”
Although he wanted to mess with Tim, Deacon couldn’t wait until he could punish his brat. He knew that was what this was all about. The guy deliberately went looking for trouble so they could spend quality time together.
Deacon opened the door just as Tim reached it. “Come on in.”
The sheriff looked around the apartment with narrowed eyes. “Where is he?”
“I’m supposed to tell you he’s not home.”
Tim nodded, grinning. “I suspected as much. I hope you plan to warm his ass?”
“Well, I don’t know if that’s a punishment or a reward for his behavior.”
“Definitely a punishment!” Neville called from the bedroom.
“It’s too bad you’re on duty. I’d offer you a beer.”
Tim surprised him by sitting down at the island. “Actually, I’m not on duty tonight. I’m going to watch Ruby’s rehearsal. She has new songs she’ll be performing at the theater on New Year’s Eve.”
Having been to the drag queen’s shows before, Deacon knew he wouldn’t miss this one, either. “I have tickets,” he said in a low voice, hoping Neville didn’t hear him. He took a beer from the fridge and gave it to Tim. “I’m giving them to Neville for Christmas.”
Deacon winced when he heard an excited screech. Neville forgot all about not being home. He ran out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and then slid across the hardwood floor until he could launch himself onto Deacon. Neville’s slender arms hugged him tight. Deacon returned the embrace. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he chided, wishing they were alone.
Tim, however, didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.
“I’m sorry I spoiled your surprise, but I couldn’t help it. I hear Ruby’s shows are spectacular. I haven’t been able to go to one yet.”
“I know. That’s why I got them.”
Deacon glanced at Tim. The man raised the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. He winked and lowered the bottle to the countertop. “You know, Deacon, I have a rather fabulous dungeon you can use. Ruby has decorated it so that there is more bling than leather.”
Neville squeaked and turned his head to stare at Tim. “Uh, no thanks?”
“That’s not for you to decide, pet,” Tim informed him. Deacon felt Neville tremble. For a moment, he thought his lover was afraid of Tim. Then he felt Neville’s dick beginning to press against his stomach. “You need to find other ways to earn punishments.” Tim finished his beer and stood up. “Thanks for the beer. Neville, behave. I don’t want to see you without a shirt in front of the windows again.” Tim winked at Deacon, letting him know he was joking. “And, Deacon, don’t hold back spanking that cute ass of his. Remember, he wants to be punished.”
After Tim left, Deacon looked down at Neville. “Go to the bedroom and strip, baby. I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”
There was a mixture of trepidation and anticipation on Neville’s face. The green eyes darkened. Deacon tried to maintain a stern expression as Neville worried his lower lip between his teeth.
“Uh, Deacon…”
“Bedroom. Clothes off. Now that I think of it, I want you bent over the bed with your ass cheeks spread.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it.”
“Good boy.”
Neville made a huge show of returning reluctantly to their bedroom, his shoulders slumped, and all but dragging his feet.
Deacon turned off the oven and followed.
He had an ass to spank.
Chapter Nine
Neville swallowed hard as he heard Deacon walk into the bedroom and close the door. He had stripped quickly after being sent to their room. Now he was bent over the bed as he’d been told, reaching back to part the cheeks of his ass. Putting himself on display was nothing new, but it always took his excitement to a fever pitch.
Deacon was in for a surprise. While he had been in the room earlier, Neville had lubed up and inserted a butt plug. It made things easier. They could get to the good stuff faster, if they were just plain impatient. Neville hoped that the plug would make Deacon forget about irritating the sheriff. Yeah, Neville had wanted to be punished, but he really shouldn’t have involved his lover’s boss.
Too bad Tim seemed a little too understanding of Deacon’s situation. Did that mean Ruby and his other partner Bobby gave him reasons to punish them? Personally, Neville enjoyed being a brat. He was learning all kinds of things about himself. It didn’t hurt that he worked with people who were more than willing to fill in the gaps in his sexual knowledge. Learning came with the job. He couldn’t do it right if he didn’t know the difference between a ball gag and a spreader bar. It didn’t interest him personally to use those things, but he was glad to learn so he could help others enjoy their own kinks.
Knowing Deacon couldn’t see him doing it, Neville grinned. His kinks were mild compared to some. Still, they made him feel exceptionally naughty. Like now.
“I like the added touch, baby, but we need to establish a few rules.”
Uh-oh. Neville’s grin faded, and he swallowed hard.
“From now on, when you are near the windows, you must have a shirt on.” Neville began to shake his head, when Deacon added, “You don’t have to wear pants, unless they’re the shorts we bought.” The grin returned. Deacon played with the plug, pushing it in and out, before removing it.
Deacon’s large hand connected sharply, painfully, with Neville’s upper thigh, below where he was holding the cheeks of his ass. “Yow! Mother fuck!”
“Language, baby. No swearing. I want you to count and you can’t do both. Now, release your ass and put your hands behind your back.”
Deacon’s long fingers wrapped around his wrists, holding them tight. Neville felt the chill of metal against his skin. His heart raced, and he sucked in a breath as his wrists were locked together. Handcuffs. Deacon had never used them before. Sweet.
The man was seriously going to test him. Swearing helped ease the sting. After counting six firm whacks to his ass, Neville began to feel the change, the pain morphing into pleasure. He shivered and moaned as he tried to rub his aching dick against the bed. Ten sharp whacks and Neville was close to the edge of achieving an intense orgasm. If Deacon permitted it.
If Neville thought was going to sneak in a bit of pleasure, he was wrong. The cuffs binding his wrists prevented him from getting to his dick.
“None of that. Stay as you are. I’ll be right back.”
Neville opened his eyes. He could hear Deacon undressing, but couldn’t see him. Deacon remained behind him. He heard the door on the wardrobe open. Deacon seemed to rummage around for a moment. Then he heard the click of the wardrobe’s door as it was closed.
Deacon’s legs brushed against his. Neville was startled when a blindfold was slipped over his head to cover his eyes. Amazingly, his excitement level cranked up. Wow, this was new. Hell, most all of it was new. They frequently tried ways to push their personal limits. Something soft brushed over his skin. It felt like velvet, something he enjoyed the texture of, especially when Deacon rubbed it over his nipples or balls. It was all pretty tame, but not vanilla. He was proud of that.
Neville wasn’t interested in getting into some of the things Totally Discreet’s clientele were doing. But he was interested in being bad with Deacon. There was this look in Deacon’s beautiful eyes when Neville did something to excite him. It gave him an incredi
ble sense of power. Not that he wanted control over his lover, but it did make him feel confident, desired, and loved.
“Pull your right leg up onto the bed.”
Neville trembled as he did as he was told. His ass was once again wide. When the tip of something firm was pressed against his stretched hole, he knew they were finally using the dildo they had purchased.
“Push out, baby.”
Doing as he was told, he imagined what the dildo looked like as every inch of it was slowly pushed into his body. Without the ability to control it, his hips began humping the bed. Liquid fire trickled along his veins. It wasn’t long before Deacon was fucking him with the dildo, pressing it in, pulling it out, and repeating the action as Neville met each thrust and whimpered in protest when it was withdrawn. The dildo’s head struck his ultra-sensitive gland repeatedly, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body.
The coil of tension inside of him was tightening steadily. Neville took a deep breath and pushed back, only to realize Deacon was removing the dildo completely. He was about to protest again, when Deacon’s hand connected with his tender ass cheek.
“Fuck, yes!”
The edge of orgasmic oblivion was only seconds away. Deacon was playing Neville with skills the likes of which he had never experienced before. When Deacon pushed his cock into his hot, willing channel, Neville screamed and came hard, his body twisting and jerking as Deacon began pounding away at his body. His inner muscles clamped around the solid shaft of flesh filling his ass.
Neville bit down on a large wrinkle in the blanket beneath him. The sensations running rampant through his body were almost too much to handle, forcing him to try to escape the intense waves of pleasure battering him by twisting and bucking wildly as Deacon tried to fuck him into next week.
“That’s it, baby. Feel it all.”
* * * *
Rolling onto his back, his arms flung out, Neville panted. Exhaustion was his middle name. They had made love for hours. Now Neville was ready to sleep. Although he didn’t have to work, and his classes at the community college wouldn’t begin again until after the first of the year, he knew Deacon had to go in to work at eight.
A glance at the clock told him they had about five hours to get some rest. He could go back to bed after Deacon went to work, but his man couldn’t do his job safely if he was exhausted.
Deacon turned off the light and got into bed with him. Neville went into his lover’s strong arms and placed his head on the wide chest. Crisp hairs tickled his nose. He rubbed it vigorously before letting out a contented sigh.
“I love you, cutie.”
Neville chuckled. Deacon and his pet names. He would never tire of hearing them. “I love you, too, you crazy sex machine.”
Rumbling laughter filled his ears. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to the thick muscles he was using as a pillow. Deacon’s warm, masculine scent was comforting. The thud of his heart was soothing music. Neville fell asleep thinking that he couldn’t have been happier than he was at that moment, if he’d tried.
* * * *
Deacon was whistling as he all but ran up the steps to the apartment. He slowed and frowned as he realized the apartment door was open. What he saw from the doorway had him reaching for his service weapon. He had it in a position of readiness as he pushed the door back, cautiously venturing inside.
“Neville?”
Nothing.
“This is sheriff’s department. Raise your hands and come out!” he called as he moved further into the apartment, doing a sweeping visual perusal as the barrel of his weapon tracked his line of sight.
His heart was thundering in his chest. Neville had told him that he was waiting for him to come home, that he had made something new for supper. Whatever it was smelled fantastic. The aroma filled the apartment. He saw that the table by the front window, the one they had chosen together, was set. There was a tall tapered candle in a holder in the center of a round fishbowl filled with smooth pieces of green glass, ready to be lit.
The table was perfect. That couldn’t be said about the rest of the room. The Christmas tree was on its side with decorations askew. The room dividers were knocked over, and the armchair had been tipped onto its back.
Deacon continued through the apartment, checking the two bedrooms, the bathroom, and even the utility room. Nothing. The place was empty. The living and dining areas were the only ones that had been disturbed. He retraced his steps, looking at everything more closely, and almost wished he hadn’t. There were droplets of blood on the floor and a long smear on the front of the island where two of the tall stools had been knocked away. Was it Neville’s blood? Fury surged through him.
Holstering his weapon, Deacon pulled out his phone and called Neville’s. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard the song Neville had chosen for his ringtone. Following the sound, he found the phone under the sectional and near the wall, as if it had been thrown against the wall and had fallen there.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he pushed the large couch out of the way so he could get to the phone. As he suspected, it had been thrown. The glass was cracked. He looked around and saw the box of tissues on the window sill. He grabbed one to pick the phone up with. As he carried it over to the island, he called the sheriff’s department.
Less than five minutes later, the sheriff and two deputies were inspecting various points in the apartment. It wasn’t until one of them asked about the door to the roof that Deacon even remembered it. They had gone up there a couple of times to admire the beautiful decorations around the square. Silver had really outdone itself this year with all the lights and other ornaments on buildings, trees, and lampposts. Basically, if it was on the square and couldn’t move, it was decorated. The effect was breathtaking. Neville and he had also enjoyed looking out over the moonlit landscape beyond the town’s limits.
Now Deacon swore as he and Tim joined the deputy and went up there. Sure, someone could break in through the door, but it would take a lot of effort. The roof was a good twelve feet above the one beside it. An intruder would have to gain entry to that building and bring a ladder. He looked over the edge of the room.
There was a ladder. It didn’t quite reach, but a person in fairly good condition could have pulled themselves up and over.
Deacon’s breath left him, and he felt lightheaded. “Steady there,” Tim told him, reaching out to firmly grip his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.” That was exactly what he was doing. He should have done a better job of securing the rooftop door, instead of simply assuming no one would go to so much trouble to get into the loft apartment. “I wouldn’t have done anything any differently.”
“If nothing else, I should have kept the bodyguards until the Bellum brothers were caught.” He turned and headed back toward the door, leaving the others to search for clues. He had to find Neville, knowing that if anything had happened to him, Deacon would never forgive himself. Hell, the guy couldn’t fight off a cold, let alone two hardened drug dealers. Hearing Tim behind him on the stairs, he said, “I’ve got to get out there to begin searching.”
“I understand that you feel you need to do so, but I suggest you stay here. If there’s a chance he comes home, it would be best if you were here.”
That made sense. Deacon just didn’t have to like it. Remaining in the apartment would make him feel helpless. His jaw set hard, causing the muscles to ache. His mind was in a whirl as he tried to figure out what had happened to the love of his life. Why was there blood? Was it Neville’s or the kidnapper’s?
“I’ll stay…for now.”
“Good. Despite what you think, Deacon, this is the best place for you. If we find him, and he needs medical attention…and I’m not saying he will,” Tim injected quickly, “you need to be close so you can be with him.”
Tim was far too sensible, but Deacon was grateful for it. His own brain was still trying to sort out this terrifying situation Neville and he found themselves in. After Tim left, Deacon
helped to gather evidence after photographs were taken. And when the deputies were gone, he began to put the apartment back the way it was. When Neville returned, Deacon didn’t want him to see the place in chaos. It was their home, and that’s how it would be remembered, even after they had moved on.
Deacon called his parents to tell them what had happened. They arrived a short time later to be with him. He asked their opinion about calling Neville’s parents, and they told him that if the situation were reversed, they would want to know.
Calling them was one of the hardest things Deacon had ever done, but his parents had been right. Lara and CJ Swift were justifiably distressed about Neville’s disappearance. However, before the call ended, they thanked him for letting them know. Neville’s father also said that they would be there the next day. They wanted to see their son, and hopefully he would be found before they arrived.
Deacon prayed that would happen. His frustration was growing as he prowled around the apartment, going to the windows a dozen times to look out, as if he would see Neville crossing the square, coming home.
It didn’t happen, of course. Tim called him twice, but he didn’t have news either time.
“Come on, son. Come sit with your mother and me.”
“Yes, dear,” Anita West said softly. “Come sit with us. I’ve made some tea.”
Deacon stopped his pacing to turn to look at his mother. He smiled. “Tea?” Her response was expected.
“It was your grandmother’s remedy for everything. In the end, she said, it can’t hurt.”
That was true. His grandmother had had a variety of tea for every situation. Knowing his parents were worrying as much as he was, Deacon sat down beside his mother and watched as she put a teaspoon of sugar in it before the cream. She stirred it before handing him the mug.
“Thank you, Mom.” Deacon leaned toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m glad you and Dad are here. But I wish I was out there looking for Neville.”
The pain and worry he was experiencing was unlike anything he had ever known before. Deacon knew it was because he was in love for the first time in his life.
