Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  When Taylor went to pull away, Frank followed, biting down on his bottom lip. He took Frank’s face in his hands and slanted his mouth over Frank’s deepening the kiss. It pained Taylor, but he had to break the kiss, otherwise they might never get around to dinner. “Let’s warm up the food and have a glass of wine.”

  When they were sitting down to eat it was Frank, not Taylor, who dimmed the lights and turned on some slow jazz music. The dish that held their meal was still hot from the oven, so Taylor put on one of the large oven mitts he found in the drawer beside the stove and served them each a large portion, then carried it back into the kitchen, returning with a plate of garlic bread. Neither spoke for a few minutes—the sounds of forks on plates and appreciative moans because the food was just that good the only noise either of them made. Taylor found he was okay with simply sitting and having dinner with Frank without the need to fill the silence. Instead, he watched Frank eat, reaching across the table and wiping a dollop of sauce off Frank’s cheek, sucking it off his thumb and watching heat flare in his lover’s eyes. Yeah, he was so going to love this living together thing.

  Frank spoke first, around a mouthful of garlic bread. “So, when are you going to move your stuff in, Tay?” Heat bloomed in Taylor’s groin. He could not for the life of him figure out what it was about hearing Frank shorten his name that turned him on so fucking much.

  “About that,” Taylor teased.

  Frank stiffened, eyes wide. “But you said, in the car.”

  “Easy there. I’m only messing with you. The moving company brought over all the boxes I’d marked with an F yesterday while Justine was here. The rest can stay in storage for now.” He could see that Frank was trying so very hard not to smile.

  “Asshole,” Frank muttered, no heat in his voice whatsoever. When they finished Frank took the plates into the kitchen to rinse and fetched the bottle of wine, slowly walking around the island, his eyes roaming the length of Taylor’s body.

  Patience is a virtue and I’m sorely lacking, Taylor thought, taking the bottle out of Frank’s hand and setting in on the table. When their lips met, Taylor swore lightning crackled between them. He stood and lifted Frank off the ground, his strong legs wrapping around Taylor’s waist immediately, arms around his neck. Navigating his way from the table and down the short hallway to the bedroom was a bit bumpy. If they were already naked, he likely would have screwed Frank up against the wall they ran into. He tripped over his own feet just a few inches shy of the bed, dropping Frank half-on and half-off the mattress. They both laughed, hard, before stripping each other in record time. Frank pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his legs and stealing his breath with a kiss that was electrifying. “Lie back, Tay, and let me take care of you tonight.”

  In the short few weeks they’d been together they’d had a lot of sex. Taylor considered it making up for lost time. He’d seen Frank in the throes of passion and committed every look and sound he’d wrung from the man’s body to memory. But they’d never been together in a house when they were alone, with no inhibitions, no one else to consider. Taylor didn’t even realize he’d stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop from crying out when Frank swallowed his dick, the tip resting in the back of his throat. The blue-eyed devil reached up and pulled Taylor’s hand away from his mouth and when he looked down—Oh, holy shit—Frank met his eyes as he circled the crown with his tongue and Taylor had to fight hard to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

  “There’s no one else here, Tay, let me hear you.” Frank sucked him down again, hollowing his cheeks and relaxing his throat.

  He wanted, no, needed to touch his lover. Running his hands through Frank’s hair, Taylor pulled his head to one side so he could watch his cock sliding in, then back out of Frank’s pretty mouth. “God, Frankie, your mouth is fucking amazing.” Tightening his grip, he held Frank still and thrust in and out of his mouth, switching back and forth between long, deep strokes, and short quick ones. “Fuuuuuck, Frankie, that’s it, suck me.”

  Any more of Frank’s mouth and he was going to blow a hole in the back of his head. He wanted the heat of his man’s ass wrapped around him. “Come here,” he growled, dragging Frank up along his body. Their mouths were already open and ready, tongues dueling before their lips even met. Taylor reached blindly for the condoms and lube he’d tossed onto the bed beside the pillow somewhere between stripping and that stellar blowjob. Frank was already riding him, his dick sliding up and down the crease of Frank’s ass where it fit perfectly. Attempting to glove up with his hands and dick out of sight and almost out of reach wasn’t happening. Taylor had to physically lift Frank and sit him on his thighs to get the condom on.

  “Hurry up, baby, I want you in me so fucking bad.” Frank snatched the bottle of lube, popping the cap and squeezing a generous portion onto the head of his dick. Taylor made sure the latex was lubed up then reached for Frank to get him ready, but Frank shook his head.

  “I want to feel the burn and the stretch.” Their eyes met and held as Frank slowly lowered himself onto Taylor’s cock. It took a couple of minutes, since he’d refused to let Taylor prep him, but once he was fully seated, the fun began. The Frank he’d bedded back at Martha’s Vineyard was a lamb; the Frank that was currently bobbing up and down on his dick, babbling incoherently and making the most tantalizing noises Taylor had ever heard, was a lion.

  “Oh Gggggggod, Taylor!” Frank shouted, adding an odd emphasis to the g. “So-fucking-good!”

  “Yeah, you like that, Frankie? Like my dick buried in your ass?” Sweat soaked both their bodies, dripping down Taylor’s forehead, making his vision blurry. He wiped it away with the back of his arm, reaching for Frank and pulling him close for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. The noise Frankie made when Taylor shifted his hips slightly, changing the angle, defied description. Frank begged and swore and rode him, body tense and trembling, signaling his climax was near.

  When Frank came, howling at the moon, Taylor thanked God he was the man that got to feel those strong thighs clench, got to watch Frank come completely unglued above him. Breathing labored, eyes half-lidded and sated, Frank grinned at him and Taylor completely forgot that his dick was still hard enough to cut glass and still deep inside his lover. “Need some help with that?” Frank lifted off him, wincing, and slid down his body, removing the condom and teasing Taylor’s slit with his tongue.

  Taylor gripped the base of his cock, rubbing the swollen head along Frank’s bottom lip. “Open wide and let me fuck that gorgeous face, Frankie.” His lover did as requested, hollowing his cheeks, Taylor’s cock nudging the back of Frank’s throat.

  Watching his cock slide in and out of Frank’s mouth was enticing, Taylor’s balls dense and aching. “That’s it, Frankie, suck me… fuuuuuuck.” He groaned, his release building.

  Frank hummed his approval, the sound causing a vibration that made Taylor’s toes curl. “So close babe, gonna fill your face up with my come.”

  It didn’t take long for Frank to bring him to the edge, then give him a push into sweet oblivion. Falling onto the bed on his back, Frank let out a long, low whistle. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

  “Yeah, but what a way to go.” Taylor scooted around to lie beside him. He could see now that sex with Frank was going to be an Olympic sport; the trysts at the Vineyard were just the preliminaries.

  Frank turned his head slowly so he could look at him, and Taylor felt a twinge of interest in his groin, seeing his seed on Frank’s face. “Oh, my fucking God, that is the sexiest thing I think I have ever seen, in my life.” He reached over, swiping the come off Frank’s cheek and feeding it to him. Heat bloomed in his lover’s eyes as he licked his finger clean. “My come looks good on your face, baby.”

  With herculean effort, they managed to climb out of bed and get both the dishes and themselves cleaned up. When they crawled back into bed, Frank stretched out beside him with his head on Taylor’s chest and yawned. Not five minutes later, Frank was softly snoring an
d Taylor wasn’t far behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Stranger

  A perky blonde reporter stood at an intersection beside a stop sign. The street sign above it read, Devonshire, with a star in the middle at the top. The man glowered but watched and waited to see if the stupid bitch would say something, anything, that would lead him to the kid, the one that got away.

  “With the ten-year anniversary of the murders that rocked this peaceful, affluent neighborhood just south of Dallas mere days away, we’re reminded of the survivor, young Taylor Langford, and continue to keep him in our hearts and prayers. Later this week, I’ll be interviewing Sergeant Rand Davis with the Dallas County Cold Case Squad to talk about the decision to reopen the investigation into the murders of Sean and Emily Langford.” Little Miss Perfect droned on but he’d tuned her out.

  So, they’re still trying to figure out what happened, who did it. He laughed out loud, unable to contain his glee. They were in for a huge disappointment. He was entirely too good at what he did to leave behind anything tying him to the murders. Oh, to be a fly on the wall if the DPD ever figured out that the killer they’d invested so much time into finding had spent the past ten years in a jail less than a hundred miles from Devonshire. In the early morning hours, after he’d slit their throats and calmly left the home, he’d been pulled over for a broken taillight and arrested. The alias he’d been using at the time was several years old, and a warrant for assault with a deadly weapon was still tied to the name. It pissed him the fuck off, having to spend a decade of his life behind bars because he’d angered the powers that be and was being taught a lesson.

  Using his obligatory phone call the morning after being handcuffed and escorted to the DPD, he’d called his boss who quickly reminded him that he’d gone against a direct order. “You were told to stand down, to let it go and not go after the Langford family. Since you decided that you didn’t need to follow that order, I’ve decided I don’t need to bail you out of jail. Sit there, deal with it and learn from it. When you get out in five to ten, call me and we’ll talk.”

  “Son of a bitch!” He could remember slamming the phone down, then trying to tear it out of the wall before the guards were on him, dragging him back to the holding cell. The man had been true to his word, hadn’t even sent a decent attorney for representation. That being said, his account at the prison exchange always carried a balance of at least three figures. So essentially he was gone, but not forgotten. Initially, he’d fallen asleep at night with visions of gutting his boss like a fish and slept like a fucking baby. But ten years staring at three walls and a door of bars had softened his temper. He had disobeyed a direct order. And though he’d been stuck without the ability to come and go as he pleased, in retrospective, he likely deserved his punishment.

  So, he bided his time, keeping his eyes open, mouth shut, and ears close to the ground. The library and the internet were excellent tools with a wealth of information to be had. All his spare time was spent keeping track of three people: The man he’d worked for prior to his ten-year stint in jail. The cop that had found the boy that had been right under his nose the entire time. Perhaps he had been too involved, and going after the boy, despite being warned, deterred his instincts that night. Regardless, he’d kept track of the cop, Frank Moore, because the boy became a permanent fixture in the officer’s life. Lastly, Taylor Langford, the survivor. He’d never missed a mark before, and it chapped his ass that the boy had made it out of the house alive.

  Something Perky said drew his attention back to the television. “Taylor Langford, who was eventually adopted by his foster parents, Valerie and Charles Stone, recently graduated from The University of Texas at Austin after obtaining both his Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Social Work and plans to become a social worker so he can help other children like him.”

  Hot damn, he did so love modern technology. “Valerie and Charles Stone, eh? I bet they can lead me to Taylor.” He cackled. “Watch your back, kid, I’m coming for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Frank

  Karaoke at Woody’s was an entirely different experience with Taylor, probably because he actually got up on stage and sang. The song he chose, “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain, for some reason was hysterically funny to Caleb. The big man reminded Frank of a fucking toddler, laughing so hard his face was beet red and he couldn’t catch his breath. Frank couldn’t be bothered to care, not when his sexy man was wiggling his hips and simulating a brazen sexual act with the microphone stand.

  When the song ended, Taylor got a standing ovation as the bar erupted into thunderous applause. More than one guy tried to stop Taylor when he climbed off the stage, but he just shook them all off as politely as possible, making a beeline for Frank. He didn’t know if he would ever get tired of the way Taylor stalked him like a mountain lion ready to devour his prey. Two months into their relationship, they were still in the honeymoon phase: every touch tantalizing, every kiss electric, every day a gift. Perhaps it was the fact that he and Taylor both knew the reality of loss, of not having just one more day with the person you loved.

  A fresh beer appeared on the table in front of him, his empty bottle lifted, and Frank looked up into the astonished eyes of their server. “Mmmm. Mmmm! That man is lookin’ at you like he’s starvin’ and you’s the last supper.”

  Before Frank could respond Taylor was there, straddling his legs, sitting in Frank’s lap and bending to kiss him. It was just a quick peck and Frank wanted more, but they were in public. “I thought I was going to have to draw my gun for a minute there,” Frank said as soon as Taylor leaned back, referring to the dozen or so guys that had attempted to sway his man, to no avail.

  “Whatever, you know better.” Taylor stood and settled into the empty chair, grabbing Frank’s chair by the seat, dragging it close to his own.

  “Blech.” Caleb scrunched up his face. “You two are giving me a cavity—enough already.”

  Caleb screeched like a girl when Justine pinched his arm. “Ow! What the fuck, woman?”

  “Play nice or you’re grounded, Knight.” She threatened, trying very hard not to smile from what Frank could see.

  He jerked his legs back, Caleb’s foot grazing his shin. “Gotta be faster than that, partner.”

  Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” blared through the speakers and they all turned to watch the next person on the mic. Taylor’s arm rested over the back of his chair, his fingers gently massaging Frank’s neck. Thank fuck the music was loud, so no one heard the contented moan Frank was unable to contain. He would never get tired of this, of Taylor’s hands on him, comforting and grounding him.

  His lover was possessive in an odd sort of way that was cute and endearing. He didn’t want to control Frank, his life, or his every move. Unless they were in bed, of course, and then Frank happily handed over every ounce of control. Taylor seemed to have a bone-deep need to put his hands on Frank if they were in the same room. Whether it was holding hands, Taylor’s arm wrapped around his waist, draped over his shoulders, or his hand in Frank’s hair massaging his scalp. Frank could walk into the apartment after a shift and see Taylor across the room in the kitchen, his eyes almost frantic. The moment he had Frank in his arms or if Frank simply crossed the room and leaned over the bar and they clasped hands briefly, the panic ebbed from Taylor’s eyes.

  Frank knew it all stemmed from his parents’ murder. To have the two most important people in his life yanked away without so much as a goodbye had left a scar on Taylor’s psyche that quite possibly would never completely heal. It was at the exact same moment, when the very fabric of Taylor’s life was torn open, that his and Frank’s lives had crossed paths and they were irrevocably tied together. And in all honesty, he considered Taylor’s brand of obsession endearing. He loved that his partner had his own set of rules, expectations, and definitions of this little thing called life.

  “I’m gonna grab another round,” Frank shouted over Alice Cooper trying
to disguise himself as Madonna. He had just made it back to their table and passed along beers and shots when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling the cell from his pocket, he held up one finger to Taylor, pointing to his phone and stepping out onto the patio where it was much quieter before answering. “This is Frank.”

  “Officer Moore, this is Sergeant Davis. Would it be possible for you and Taylor Langford to meet me at headquarters tomorrow morning at nine?” There was something off about Rand Davis’s voice. Frank couldn’t put his finger on it, and he hadn’t spent a lot of time with the man to know him well enough to read. But even a stranger would have heard the underlying tone of concern.

  “Yeah, of course…” Frank could see Taylor looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “…what do you need to talk to both of us about?”

  Davis waited so long to answer him that Frank thought the call had dropped. “I can’t talk about it over the phone, but I promise you, I’ll tell you everything I can tomorrow.”

  Almost as soon as he disconnected the call, Caleb’s phone rang. They were in between singers at the moment, so Caleb immediately answered the call. “Yo.” Frank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah—okay, see you then.”

  Caleb stuffed his cell back into his pocket and picked up his beer, eyes darting around the table. Frank wanted to throttle him. “Well?” He, Taylor, and Justine, all three speaking at the same time sounded more like shouting.

  “Apparently, I’ve been called to the principal’s office along with you two numbskulls tomorrow morning.” Caleb shrugged, coming out swinging when Justine and Frank both smacked him in the back of the head. “Would you two stop touching me already?”