Beach had hoped they’d skip this part of the story. He stepped off onto the shore and tried to keep his tone light. “Oh, the usual. A big sigh followed by a ‘Cut me a switch and drop ’em, boy.’” Beach smiled. “I assume he sighed because peeling the skin off my ass was a giant inconvenience.”
“God, I’m sorry.” Tai stopped walking.
Beach felt the sympathy and regret come at him in a smothering wave.
He shook his head forcefully and tapped his cane against the side of Tai’s running shoe. “Don’t. I am keenly aware of the difference.”
Tai had that look where his brows made a tent over his eyes.
Beach took a deep breath and settled the laundry bag over his shoulder, the cuffs cradling his wrists, suede rubbing on the ring of bruises. “You ask me to trust you. Can you trust that about me?”
The return of the sun and blazing heat made all the wet pavement shimmer and steam, creating ripples behind Tai. Jaw tight, he nodded.
Beach smiled and gripped Tai’s forearm before starting toward the hotel and the parking lot beyond. “Turned out to be the last time. And the last time I went back to Uncle Sinclair’s. There was always an invitation to go to Gavin’s. Plus”—Beach waggled his eyebrows—“Gavin felt obliged to put ointment on my butt, and that led to some interesting rubbing and exploration. I always tell Gavin he owes me for helping him figure stuff out.”
“He was your first boyfriend?”
However much fifteen-year-old Beach might have wanted some kind of acknowledgment from Gavin, that hadn’t ever been forthcoming. “Not quite that. Though he was the first in other ways. We fumbled around together.”
The grunt from Tai might have been annoyance or acceptance. It was hard to say.
The happy sensation Tai gave Beach, the certainty from giving up everything to Sir, spread out from Beach’s chest. “As it happens, that position is still open.”
Tai’s stare—Sir’s stare—fixed Beach to the spot and made him lick his lips in nervous habit. “What position?”
“My first boyfriend.”
Beach wished he were standing close enough to touch Tai because the growl that accompanied his words would have made an electric vibration.
“Consider it filled.”
THE POSITION was well filled. Jesus, it was well filled. Beach had no complaints. He’d always thought answering to someone in a relationship would be like wearing the ankle monitor times ten. Not only blinking lights and a weight, a nagging human would make Beach feel guilty about how he spent his time. Instead he found himself checking his phone constantly for a random text from Tai. Some were funny, some echoed with Tai’s frustration about work, and some made Beach’s balls tingle and throb until it was hard to follow Tai’s order to keep hands off unless taking a piss.
That’s mine, boy.
Yes, Sir.
The anticipation of seeing Tai at the end of the day didn’t make time drag. The charge of excitement rushed time forward, until it had been over a week of having a Dominant boyfriend and physical therapy, and Beach was getting the hang of both. His leg was tired, but the bone seemed to ache less. And Tai had a way of making the extra exercises very rewarding.
The returning strength in his muscles meant Beach could kneel at Tai’s feet. Being there made Beach’s head quiet. No worrying about the court date for his sentencing looming in two weeks. No need to think about anything but being there, being David for Sir.
Beach reached for the baklava after finishing off the moussaka from the Greek takeout Tai had brought with him, and Tai put his big hand over the plastic covering the pastries. Beach quirked a smile. “I cleaned my plate, so to speak.” He tilted the empty container.
“After.”
Beach was a little full for sex. Burping up spiced beef could put a damper on the mood. “After what?”
“Didn’t the physical therapist say you should start daily walks to strengthen the muscles?”
Damn him for paying attention. “Yes, Sir.”
“Jez could use the walk too.”
Beach cleared the remains of the meal off his counter, gazing wistfully at the flaky honey-soaked triangles under plastic.
“One taste?”
“Don’t be a brat.” That particular warning from Tai came in two different tones. One affectionate and teasing, which meant the consequence of ignoring him was likely to be the same. This was the deeper, gruff warning. Ignoring this could escalate into unpleasant consequences. The least of which would probably be Tai departing with his baklava, so Beach left the lid on. There was a bit of sticky sweetness on his thumb from moving the container though, so he sucked it clean.
“David.”
That one word could do so many things to Beach’s insides, stirring that now-familiar tangle of want and dread at the idea of punishment. The way his heart expanded under the narrow focus of Tai’s attention. Beach didn’t think he’d ever be getting off on pain, but the idea of surrendering to it, taking it because it was what Tai wanted, that felt amazing.
“I didn’t open it, Sir.”
Tai came around the counter to stand in front of Beach, hand closing over the leather cuffs Beach wore everywhere but the shower. Tai drew Beach’s hand up until the soft beard tickled his knuckles as Tai licked Beach’s thumb.
“My job, boy.”
“Yes, Sir.” They needed to do that walk. Now.
His father’s call dropped into that sweet anticipation like an acid bomb.
Chapter Eighteen
BEACH STARED at the number. He never bothered to put caller ID in for the number, because it changed often. But he recognized the country code, the moussaka congealing into a cold lump in his belly.
Tai released his hand. “Your dad?”
Beach nodded and picked up the phone.
His father didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where the hell is the money? Why didn’t you call me back?”
“You told me never to try to contact you through my cell phone.”
“That doesn’t answer the question about the money, David.”
Tai put his hands on Beach’s shoulders, a comfortable weight urging him down. Remembering what the therapist had said about squaring off joints, Beach carefully lowered himself to his knees, sinking into the security of being Tai’s. His hand rested on Beach’s head as he leaned into Tai’s leg. Funny, David sounded so different when his dad said it. To say nothing of how hearing it felt inside. From Tai, a solid, steady warmth. From his father, a curl of shame and regret.
“Did you call Sinclair as I asked?”
“Yes, sir.” The sir to his father was as automatic as a God bless you to a sneeze. Instinct rather than the respect weighting his voice when he spoke the same words to Tai. When they were deep in that space together, Tai was Sir, guiding, controlling everything so all Beach had to do was take and feel.
“When did you call?”
“Right away.”
His father made a disgusted sound. “We all know that could mean anything with you.” Beach did prefer to put off anything unpleasant. It only seemed reasonable. Why do something distasteful if there was a chance that ignoring it would make it go away? But he hadn’t put it off this time. If calling the very next morning was in any way lacking, he knew Tai would have pointed it out.
“I called the next morning.”
“And?”
At that moment Beach envied Tai his unknown dead father. The deceased couldn’t hang a millstone of disappointment and disgust around your neck the way the living could. From Dad’s perspective, it probably appeared an easy task: convince Uncle Sinclair to loosen whatever hold he’d placed on Dad’s cash flow. From Beach’s point of view, it was like arguing with the tide. It would flow when it flowed.
He swallowed, then took a deep breath, leaning into Tai’s leg, wrapping himself in the comfort of Tai’s dominance.
“Uncle Sinclair—I asked him. I asked him to explain, or to let me handle things. He said, ‘Tell him he knows why.’”
“Sanctimonious fucking bastard.”
“Sir, I would be happy to wire money directly—”
“It’s far too late for that.”
Which was what his uncle had said. How could it suddenly be too late? As his father so often complained, he’d been living in exile for twenty-five years. Dad continued, “If you hadn’t gotten yourself into this mess, maybe you could have been some help. But with you tethered to the state of Maryland, there’s nothing you can do.”
Beach knew better than to suggest his mother or Beau’s side of the family. Beach might have been young, but he knew how wide the gulf was between his parents, and between his father and his cousins.
“I was trying to find the ring. Beau said—”
“Forget the goddamned ring, David. I need help, not some trinket.”
“Yes, sir. If you tell me your account details—”
“Forget the whole damned thing, me included. That shouldn’t be hard for you, after all.”
“Da—Father, I want—”
His father hung up. Beach pressed Redial, but there was no answer, no voice mailbox. He stabbed at Redial harder. The phone stopped ringing almost immediately. Before he could make another attempt, Tai took the phone.
“Walk now. Try again later.”
The surety and calmness spread out from Beach’s belly, radiating into his legs and feet and tingling into his fingers and hair. “Yes, Sir.”
Tai didn’t say anything as they walked along the edge of the infinity pool, then along the birches screening the property from glimpses of anything not upcycled from the area’s former life as a working wharf. Jez was on her best behavior, keeping pace right at Tai’s knee, her leash loose but arranged so Tai could check her if she started to wander. Tai and Jez were exemplary citizens. Beach, on the other hand, was a complete failure.
Though he had less need of his cane now than he had even three days ago, he stabbed it viciously into the ground as they walked. What was he supposed to do? What else could he possibly offer his father? Beach lashed out to the side with his cane, and Tai put out a hand to stop it before a row of innocent petunias suffered a premature beheading.
“David.” Tai yanked the cane out of Beach’s hands.
As if his grip on the cane had been a breakwater, anger spilled over, then bled away.
Beach shook his head in disgust. “Stupid, I know.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“What would you call it, then? Why do I even care that they all think I’m an utter waste of skin?”
“You care because it’s your father.”
“One I haven’t seen in twenty-five years.” He wondered at that. Maybe if he’d tried to visit?
“That is a long time.” Tai tossed the cane back. “Did you ever ask—maybe there’s another reason he can’t come back?”
Beach poked at a clump of green leaves torn from a birch in the storm last night. “No. I’ve never asked. I suspect I don’t want to know. He’s not much of a father, but he’s the only one I have.”
Tai took Jez off the pavement and onto the grassy verge for a spot of business. “Leaving the country and not being able to return for this length of time suggests something pretty serious. There are probably things that were kept from you when you were younger.”
“And you’re saying I should go digging up skeletons?”
“It makes more sense than digging for buried treasure on a forbidden island.”
“Now I’m both feckless and frivolous?”
“I told you before not to put words in my mouth.” There was no heat in Tai’s voice, just that calm dominance he used on Jez. Beach was tired of it.
“And probably not ones you haven’t heard before.”
“Check your assumptions, David. I took the SATs. I wouldn’t call you completely hopeless, though right now you’re sliding into careless.”
Shame soured on the back of Beach’s tongue. He’d never been the kind of person to put down others, been the kind of snob his cousins were. But being unable to get under Tai’s skin was infuriating. “And I suppose you have all this advice because of your vast experience with a male parent?”
If it hadn’t been for Jez, Beach might not have known how deep he’d struck. She pinned herself to Tai’s side, ears flattening, nose curled as she swung her head toward Beach with her lip lifted. It was barely audible over the slap of water, but the air vibrated with her growl.
“Enough.”
Beach was pretty sure that was more for him than the dog, but Jez lowered her threat level, bristling but not growling.
Tai stroked her head, and she sat. “I’m not going to play stand-in for your father.” At last exasperation colored his voice.
“Of course not. Because you putting me over your knee to spank me isn’t remotely paternal.”
“I’m your Dominant.” Tai was back to the reasonable tone. “You’re my submissive, not a child. And each time, you were very clear in what you were asking for.”
Beach dropped his gaze to stare at where he dragged his cane tip across the pavement. “And if I’m asking you to punish me now?” He hated his own diffidence, but he hated the way his insides felt—like everything was out of place and hard and hurting and would never be fixed—more.
“No.”
Beach thought things were hurting before, but that rejection was sharp enough to take his breath away. He started walking again, moving as far and fast as he could to outrace the burning ache inside. But he couldn’t outpace it. Or Tai.
“David, I’m not going to punish you because you’re upset about a conversation with your father. The D/s should only be about us. Not drag anyone else in.”
But Tai had done that before, hadn’t he? When this feeling got too big and Beach couldn’t take the Nancy somewhere to avoid it. Couldn’t chase it away with bourbon or X. Couldn’t lose it in a random body. Tai had given him that. Why couldn’t he do it now?
Beach gave a tight nod and kept walking as fast as he could. So much for feeling like he’d found something that gave him all he needed. Something that promised there was enough right here. No need to chase it.
Tai caught up and grabbed Beach’s arm. “I’ve told you not to run from me.”
“I thought this wasn’t about us. That it was about my daddy issues.”
“When you run from me or hide your feelings from me, that makes it about us.”
“So what the fuck do you want from me?”
“I want you to control yourself and think about what’s really going on. You’re angry, but you don’t get to lash out at everyone.”
“At you, you mean.” And he wasn’t angry. A little frustrated, but not angry.
“And at yourself.” Tai released Beach’s arm and took a familiar grip on his chin. “You need to think about what you really want, what you’re feeling. So you will not speak again until I give you permission.”
Beach opened his mouth to protest and then closed it.
“You have fifteen seconds to argue.”
It burned high up in his throat, like a shot of rotgut moonshine. The reasons why not. An explanation that talking was how Beach figured out what he was feeling. The flat-out denial of accepting Tai’s demand. It choked him, and he didn’t say anything at all.
“Good.” Tai caressed Beach’s jaw and pressed a gentle thumb against his lips. “Don’t forget.”
The sternness of that warning made adrenaline leap in Beach’s veins. So he could have what he’d been looking for, submit to that brief pain to get that release.
Tai must have read the intention in Beach’s face, because the dark eyes narrowed under the slash of brows. “If you speak before I give you permission, your ass is going to be more than sore. Three solid minutes. And it won’t be my hand. It will hurt like hell.”
Beach’s pulse still raced with excitement. It would be awful. Tai was deadly serious. But after….
“Be a good boy for me, David.” Tai brushed his thumb across Bea
ch’s lips and resumed walking.
Beach blew out a breath as he followed. Damn him. Tai had handed the choice neatly off to Beach. If he really wanted the risk, to chance the pain for the release that followed, all he had to do was open his mouth. Bastard. Worse, Beach really hated displeasing Tai. In a completely different way, enduring the inability to speak because Tai demanded it gave Beach a prickle of warmth all over his body, like summer sunshine after too much air-conditioning. He wanted to luxuriate in Tai’s authority like a cat in that sunbeam. At the same time Beach wanted the out-of-control rush from Tai’s power and strength forcing pain into Beach’s body.
He didn’t want to have that option. For once, freedom weighed on him like an anchor.
Why couldn’t Tai make the choice for him? For them?
Beach had never realized how often he started a conversation to avoid being stuck in his own head until this restriction sealed his lips. Once he barely caught himself before snapping his jaw shut. Shit. This was harder than he’d thought. It was one thing to deliberately court punishment, but another to fail in control.
Tai pressed Beach into the sidewall of the elevator as they rode up to the fifth floor. “Remember you’re supposed to be thinking about what you feel, not avoiding it.”
Tai’s warm, hard body felt damned good against Beach. Faint spicy aftershave, the rumble of his voice, tang of sweat. Beach wanted a great big gulp of that kind of avoidance. He licked his lips.
The corner of Tai’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head. “Not that either. Focus.” Beach sighed and then tightened his jaw against a more verbal complaint or persuasion. Right as they crossed the apartment threshold, Gavin texted.
Beach glanced at Tai, not sure how far the prohibition went. Tai nodded, and Beach opened the message.
What are you doing?
Beach considered his answer for a second. My boyfriend. Let Gavin chew on that.
I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word. Gavin was a fine one to talk. Pardon my interruption. What are you doing on Saturday?
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