Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  Taylor winced and Frank held him tighter, turning to glare at his partner. “Dammit, Knight!”

  “Shit, sorry.” Caleb held his hands in the air.

  Davis cleared his throat and waited for them to give him their undivided attention. “As far as what the parents were involved in, I can’t answer that. Not yet at least. I’m confident that the woman you knew to be Emily Langford was actually Melissa Taylor; I’d bet my career on it. Once I get the fingerprints your ME took the night of the murders, I can run those to verify what I suspect is true.” Davis opened his folder of knowledge and grabbed the various sheets, placing them back inside and closing it. “As for what happened ten years ago during the investigation, again, I can’t say for certain.”

  “I’m sensing there is a but there,” Caleb prodded.

  Rand sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “From what I’ve read in the original reports, the investigation simply stalled out. There wasn’t much evidence to go on, and Taylor couldn’t give any additional information about what took place in that house the night of the murders. And, if you think about it, the internet and social media weren’t utilized as an investigative tool back then the way they are now. The information I’ve found simply slipped through the cracks, for lack of a better analogy.”

  “Fuck.” Taylor rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Are there any more surprises hiding in that box, Davis?”

  When the man didn’t respond right away, Frank begrudgingly moved his eyes from Taylor to the Sergeant. The look of trepidation he saw didn’t bode well. “When I found the missing persons article, I searched the area and found a Peggy Cassidy. Melissa was her cousin. I’m hoping to video chat with her sometime tomorrow. If not then, one day this week. If I have to fly out to Bangor, by God, I will.”

  Taylor’s body shook and Frank pulled him close, hoping to calm him with his touch. “So, I may well have a family out there; is that what you’re saying?” Taylor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Enough was enough; his man was in pain and he was going to put an end to the rigmarole. “Cut the bullshit and formalities Rand—your gut, what is it telling you?” Frank prompted.

  Davis seemed almost hesitant to answer him, his eyes searching Taylor’s face for a few intense moments before he spoke. Frank wasn’t even upset that Davis spoke to Taylor and not him. “There are several possibilities, but my instinct is telling me that Melissa Taylor took her baby and disappeared, assuming the identity of Emily Langford. Whether or not Sean is the Keith listed on the birth certificate, the man that belongs to the arm in the picture of Emily and Taylor when he was still a baby, I have to say that I don’t think so.”

  Taylor’s head shot up. “You don’t?”

  Shaking his head, Davis looked to Frank, his eyes earnest and hesitant. Frank nodded once, silently telling the man to answer Taylor’s question. “You have to understand, Taylor, I’ve been doing this for a very long time. I spent fifteen years in the military, focused on counterintelligence and profiling. I joined the force just as soon as I retired, and my gut and instinct when I’m working any case have always been strong and proven me right. There are several scenarios I can think of that would force your mother to take you and run, change your names, your identities, and none of them are good.”

  Standing, Davis put one hand on Taylor’s shoulder, the look on his face fierce and intense. “I promise you, Taylor, I will use every skill I possess to find the truth for you. And hopefully find the person that killed your parents in the process.”

  Taylor continued to stare at the image of him and his mother, eyes misty. “She was so beautiful and kind, full of love. How could anybody hurt her?”

  “You keep that one, son.” Davis tapped the edge of the image, clasping Taylor’s shoulder once more before he turned to his stash of boxes. Caleb went around the table to where Davis stood, the two of them conversing in hushed tones. Frank fought the urge to walk over and insert himself into the conversation. Instead, he stood and pulled Taylor up with him, quietly leaving the room and then the building.

  Digging the keys to his jeep out of Taylor’s pockets, Frank gently put his shell-shocked boyfriend into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Texting Caleb to let him know they were heading home, he started the car and backed out of the parking spot. On the long drive, Frank stopped to fill the jeep, pick up some Thai takeout for dinner, and held a conversation with Val long enough to share the events of their day with her. She’d called to remind them about dinner on Sunday and picked up on the tone of Frank’s voice right away.

  “Oh, my dear sweet boy,” she cried into the phone. “I’ll get Charles and we’ll be over as soon as we can.”

  “I think we need to be alone tonight, Val; he’s really shaken up. Can you wait until tomorrow? Please,” Frank begged.

  All he heard for a few seconds were her soft sobs, Charles trying to reassure her that Taylor would be just fine with Frank, that they could see him the following day. “Okay, Frank, but I swear, if I don’t hear from you or Taylor first thing in the morning, I’ll be beating down your door.” And he knew she would. Valerie Stone may not be Taylor’s mother by birth, but she loved and cherished him as if she were.

  Once they were back at the apartment, Frank led Taylor inside and pulled out one of the tall chairs for him to sit in. They ate in silence, really only picking at the food. Eventually, Frank took the plates and dumped them, putting the leftovers in the fridge and heading into the bathroom to shower. He left Taylor at the table, still staring at the picture of him and his mother. When he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, all hell broke loose.

  “Did you bring him back here? Fuck him in our bed?” Taylor barked. Frank jumped and spun around, the disdain dripping from the words catching him off guard.

  “What?”

  Taylor pushed off the door and advanced on him, backing Frank into the wall, planting his arms on either side of Frank’s head. “I said did-you-fuck-Rory Landers-in-our-bed?”

  “Really, Taylor?” Frank tried to shove him away to no avail. Taylor had several inches and probably twenty-five pounds on him. “You’re kidding me right now.”

  Anger, that should be the emotion Frank was feeling. How in the hell could Taylor be angry with him for something that happened before they got together? Alas, his body and his mind were of different opinions at the moment. When Taylor stepped closer to him, pinning Frank’s body to the wall, his dick took notice and decided it was time to come out and play. And—Oh, holy hell—when Taylor wrapped his hand around Frank’s throat with just enough pressure to keep him in place without it feeling threatening or confining, Frank involuntarily whimpered. No one had ever manhandled him the way Taylor did and his body was responding, ready to succumb, eager to please. “Taylor, what…oh, fuck.” Frank groaned when Taylor slid his leg in between Frank’s, slowly running his knee up the length of his semihard dick.

  “You belong to me, Frankie, right?” All he could do was nod and moan as Taylor moved his knee faster; the friction on his dick from the rubbing and the coarse material of the towel was exquisite. There was a niggle in the back of his mind that he and Taylor needed to have a conversation about the past being left in the past, but his body overrode any chance of that happening until later.

  “Please Tay, fuck me,” he whined.

  One corner of Taylor’s mouth lifted, the grin wicked, dangerous, and promising. “Don’t move.” Frank slumped, his legs shaking now that he was holding all his own weight. Pushing off the wall, he took one step, intent on walking over to the bed, and Taylor was there, shoving him back against the wall. “I said, don’t move.” He was naked now, a glance at the floor showing a trail of clothes leading from where they stood to the bedside table, the top drawer hanging on by one corner stopping it from falling the floor.

  “Taylor, oh fuck, mmmmppphhh,” Frank stammered, one of Taylor’s long, thick fingers sliding into his body. With his other ha
nd, Taylor lifted Frank’s leg and rested it on his hip to give him better access to his ass. “Can’t, oh Jesus, bed.” There should have been a few more words in that sentence, but Frank’s brain was scrambled. Taylor had three fingers inside him now, rubbing against his prostate with every pass and driving him up the wall, for lack of a better term.

  “Oh no, Frankie, you and I will never sleep in that bed again,” Taylor whispered in his ear, tongue trailing a path to Frank’s shoulder, his teeth digging into Frank’s flesh and he gasped. “Tomorrow, we will go shopping for a new bed. That one can go to Goodwill or be tossed with the trash. I could care less, but it’s leaving this apartment.”

  Frank groaned when Taylor removed his fingers from his channel, sighing when he felt the firm head of Taylor’s cock tapping his entrance. “Can I have you without a condom, Frank? It’s been months, and we’ve both been tested.”

  Taylor’s hands were digging into his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and his thick cock was gliding up and down the crease of Frank’s ass, making it very hard to think, but he understood what Taylor was asking. They’d both been tested twice now. Once when they got back from the Vineyard and again a couple of weeks ago, both negative. It was something they could share with each other that neither of them had ever done, sex without a condom. “Oh, hell yes, put it in me. Now,” Frank demanded.

  Ever so slowly, Taylor slid his lubed cock inside him, both of them groaning. “Frankie, baby, you feel so good.” He thrust up, rocking Frank’s back against the wall.

  Nothing he’d ever felt compared to the intensity that connected them mentally, physically, and emotionally. Taylor’s cock felt like velvet steel inside him, setting a fire in his groin that was gradually climbing up his spine. Bending his knees, Taylor grabbed Frank’s ass and hoisted him up off the ground. “Wrap your legs around me,” he directed; his hands spread him wide as soon as Frank locked his ankles around Taylor’s body and he pushed deeper, Frank’s back screaming at him as he slid up and down the wall, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sweat dripped off their bodies; Frank’s moans and pleas for Taylor to fuck him harder, deeper, faster, bounced off every flat surface in the room.

  “Not gonna last…much…longer, Tay. So close.”

  Taylor’s grip on his ass tightened, his dick swelling inside him, signaling he was just as close to coming as Frank was. “Fuck yeah, Frankie, give me that come.” He could tell that Taylor was hanging on by a thread, determined to make Frank explode first. With each thrust, Frank’s climax climbed higher like a thermometer on a hot, summer day, before cresting and falling, dragging Frank under with it. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he cried out as he came, painting Taylor’s abdomen with thick, white ropes of come. He couldn’t see, couldn’t catch his breath, but he felt safe and secure with Taylor’s arms wrapped around him, holding Frank open and tearing him apart all at the same time.

  Blinking, Frank opened his eyes just in time to see Taylor come, his face a twisted marriage of pleasure and tension. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. What truly amazed him was the ability to feel Taylor’s orgasm without the latex barrier between them. He could feel his lover’s cock pulsing inside him, feel the ridges of Taylor’s shaft rubbing his prostate as a comfortable heat painted his channel. “Holy, fuck, God, Ahhhhhhhhhhh.” Taylor groaned as he thrust up into him one last time.

  Frank chuckled. “That good, huh?”

  “Better,” Taylor answered hoarsely. Pulling out, Taylor collapsed onto the bedroom floor, dragging Frank down with him.

  Neither of them spoke at first, too occupied trying to calm the twin racing hearts and remembering how to breathe. “Can I ask you something Frank?” Taylor rolled onto his side, draping an arm over Frank’s stomach.

  Frank looked over at him, leaning toward Taylor. “Yeah, anything.”

  “Back at the station, you said ‘me fucking you,’ to Rory. You…never bottomed with him?” Frank studied Taylor’s face for a moment, watching his eyes and the set of his jaw for any tension or brooding. He was calm, as was the tone of his voice.

  Laughing softly, Frank ran his fingers up the arm resting on his stomach. “No, babe, I always did the driving when Rory and I were together; he’s somewhat of a bossy bottom.”

  Taylor’s smile was radiant, his grip on Frank’s hip tightening. “Good.” He slanted his mouth over Frank’s, kissing him softly. Frank could stay right where they were for days and be perfectly content, in the arms of the man he loved. The kiss was sensual, almost subdued, while Taylor’s hold on him was unyielding. When Taylor leaned back, he groaned, receiving a confident chuckle in response. “Are you good with me always being the one behind the wheel, Frankie? ’Cause I don’t know that I’ll ever want to bottom.”

  “I’ll take whatever you want to give me, Taylor; I love having you inside me.” Frank quickly agreed. “And while I hope one day you’ll let me have you, it’s not a deal breaker, Tay. What we have now is more than enough for me.” He kissed Taylor’s neck, loving the soft purr of approval.

  “So, tell me, love, if we are never getting in that bed again, where are we sleeping?” Frank teased.

  Taylor growled and smacked him on the ass, hard. Frank hollered, rolling over onto his knees to stand, glaring down at his man who was grinning up at him. “We can sleep wherever you like Frankie, as long as it’s not in that bed.”

  Frank found it amusing that the bed Taylor referred to as “our bed” not ten minutes ago, was now “that bed.”

  “I’m going to get cleaned up, again, while you gather blankets and pillows for the couch. I guess that’s where we’re sleeping tonight.” Frank walked back into the bathroom, using the still-damp towel to wipe the come off his stomach. There was an angry welt on his shoulder that stung and his back carried what looked like lines of scratches from his lover screwing him into the wall. “We’re not werewolves, Taylor, you don’t have to mark me so that everyone else in the pack will know I’m yours.”

  A pillow flew into the bathroom and Frank caught it, turning to glare at his boyfriend. “I beg to differ.” Taylor winked, turning to leave the room, arms full of pillows and the comforter from the bed. Rolling his eyes, Frank opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste. He actually quite liked the fact that Taylor couldn’t keep his hands off him. He’d be carrying the marks from their lovemaking for days, and that was both welcome and exhilarating.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Taylor

  Groaning, Taylor rolled his shoulders and bent to touch his toes, stretching his sore muscles. Between their fervent lovemaking up against the bedroom wall and spending the night on the couch, his body ached and was tied in knots. But there was no way in hell he was sleeping in that bed. “I know it sounds insane and you probably think I’m this jealous asshole, but knowing that you screwed him in that bed makes me see red, Frank. Just the thought of sitting on it, sleeping on it, much less making love to you on it, makes my skin crawl.”

  “I get that, I do, but neither of us was a virgin coming into this relationship, Tay. We both have pasts and…wait, don’t stand there.” Frank went off topic, taking him by the arm and moving him to the other side of the stove. “I fucked Trevor on that countertop once.”

  Sighing, Taylor rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I get the point, Frank. But the bed, it’s intimate and personal. Knowing you two were together in that fucking bed—it has to go, Frankie.” He watched as what he was saying finally sank in, the light bulb going off above Frank’s head.

  Nodding, he leaned in for a quick kiss. “That makes sense, Taylor. Sorry I didn’t see it before.”

  They were just finishing breakfast when Valerie arrived, Frank saying a quick hello on his way out the door for his shift. “I’m fine, Mom, I promise. It was just a lot to take in all at once, you know.”

  “Can I see the picture?” He walked over to the bar and grabbed it, handing it to her as he took a seat beside her on the couch again. “Oh my goodness, look at
how cute you were. And Emily, your mom, you have her eyes.” Taylor didn’t miss the catch in her voice when she said the word mom.

  “Hey, look at me.” Taylor took the picture and set it on the coffee table. “Yes, she’s my mother, she gave birth to me and I loved her so much, I miss her every day. But you are my mother too, Val, don’t ever doubt that.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, rubbing her back.

  Standing, he held a hand out to her. “Want to go shopping with me?”

  “Of course, dear, for what?” She smiled.

  Walking to the door, Taylor plucked his keys from the hook in the hall and opened it, ushering his mom out first. Then closing and locking it behind him. “A new bed.”

  “Is there something wrong with the one you have?” she asked, truly baffled.

  “You could say that.”

  ~

  After purchasing the new king-sized bed to replace Frank’s queen-sized and paying extra to have it delivered that afternoon and the other hauled off, Taylor and his mom went to Jason’s Deli for lunch. They hadn’t had an afternoon, just the two of them, in well over a year. It was something Val insisted on from the start, that Taylor have some time with just her as well as just him and Charles so that he got the one-on-one attention a growing boy needed from his parents. Sitting in the restaurant with her talking about mundane shit reminded Taylor how lucky he was to have the Stones in his life. He wondered what his life would have been like if they hadn’t fostered him. Taylor knew he was one of the lucky ones. Life could have turned out very differently for him if not for Frank’s intervention.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, Taylor.” Val reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “He really is the one.”

  Grinning like an idiot, he was certain, Taylor nodded. “He is, Mom. I love him so much that sometimes it makes me crazy.”

  “How so?” she asked.