“What are you thinkin’?” Tom whispered. “Where’s your head?”
“The poker game at Pete and Eddie’s where you fucked me in the bathroom when I bluffed and won the pot and took all but one of your chips.”
Tom grinned. “That was fuckin’ hot. Watchin’ you sittin’ there the rest of the night and squirmin’. Knowin’ you were worried you might end up with a wet spot on the back of your shorts because I’d dropped a load in you.”
“You damn tease. You didn’t let me come.”
“I know. Made you jerk off in the truck on the way home and wouldn’t let you come then, either. Told you if you wanted to come that night, you had to keep yourself hard all the way home. You were scared to death we’d get pulled over. God, you were fuckin’ adorable.” Tom sucked on Tyler’s lower lip again. “How about the first trip to New York you took with Nevvie? When I made you lie in bed next to her and jerk off with her asleep while I was on the phone right there with you.”
Tyler let out a needy groan at the memory. “Bloody hell, you’ve always been a sadist. Why didn’t I ever see it before?”
Tom crushed his mouth onto Tyler’s and it was his air, his life, everything condensed in the man’s lips and the tongue deeply fucking him.
His universe.
His man.
His.
Tom stopped stroking and squeezed, making Tyler groan with need. “Wanker!”
“Exactly right.” A long, teasing stroke, stopping at the base of their cocks and pausing. “First date night after I finished restoring the Ford and I took you out to dinner at that car show at the DQ.”
Tyler groaned. “You kept me hard all evening. You teased me all evening. You were so mean.”
Tom grinned. “Then what’d I do?”
Tyler sucked Tom’s lower lip. “When we got home later that night, you backed into the garage, turned off the garage light but left the large door open, laid me back on the seat with the truck door open, and fucked me silly. Anyone who walked by could have looked in and possibly seen us even though it was dark.”
“I think I learned more than a few British swear words that night.”
“You fucking well know you did.” Tyler fisted Tom’s shirt at the shoulders and tried to shift his hips against him. “You’re about to hear a few more if you don’t stroke my cock!”
This was the core of them. The world slipped away when they were together.
Nothing else existed.
Like they stepped aside and melted into each other while time and life passed along without them.
Like in Brussels. A bubble of time outside the universe.
This was one of countless reasons why he loved this man, why their temporary estrangement after Tom’s accident, when he pulled away from Ty and Nevvie, had hurt so damned much.
Because Tom hadn’t let Ty take care of him the way he’d wanted to.
Which was in every way.
“Know what I’m thinkin’ about?” Tom asked as he took another stroke along their cocks.
“How to be sadistic to me next?”
He nuzzled noses with Ty. “How glad I am that you’re the only guy I’ve ever really been with, because you were perfect our first night together, even though I fell asleep on you.”
Just when Tyler thought his heart couldn’t feel any more full, Tom shoved more feels into it. “I’m so very glad you’re the last man I was with, because you’re perfect.”
Warm breath brushed across Tyler’s lips. “Then give me what I want, buddy.” His hand started moving again, stroking, milking more pre-cum from them to slick their cocks. “Because I come before you, I’m going to go find that butt plug I know we got somewhere upstairs, and I’m coming back down here and making you spread those gorgeous arse cheeks for me and shoving it up there so you have to work with it in allll afternoon.”
Tyler’s heart skipped even as his cock twitched in Tom’s hand. “You wouldn’t?”
“I would.”
Of course he bloody well would—he’d done it to Tyler plenty of times before. Never during deadlines, of course, but when he knew Tyler could afford the distraction.
Tyler rocked his hips even faster against Tom. “Please let me come.”
“Hmm. Now you’re all sweet-talkin’ to me, sure. When you think I’m gonna be a big meanie to you.”
Tyler held on tightly to him, foreheads touching. “Please, Sir, make me come,” he whispered. “Please make your boy come.”
“That’s more like it, baby.” Tom tightened his grip, focusing his strokes just behind the head of Tyler’s cock, which he knew was one of the fastest ways to get him off. “Keep beggin’ just like that. I like that a lot.”
“I’ll do anything, Sir,” he whispered. “Your boy will do anything Sir wants.”
“Sir wants you to come for him. Show him who owns you.”
He was close, sooo fucking close.
And he loved it, loved Him.
* * * *
Guess we don’t need a talk about me callin’ him boy after all.
Tom had hesitated to call Tyler “boy” when they’d been in Brussels out of fear of it triggering Ty in a bad way. Marcus had called him that. They’d tossed the term back and forth before, never completely serious, after Ty and Nevvie had gotten him past that emotional hurdle during his recovery period.
But this?
Yeeeeaaaah.
Fuck, it was sexy. His balls ached to explode but he wanted Ty to come first.
With everything that had happened, the three of them hadn’t felt much like having sex since after the night they’d returned from Brussels. Tom hadn’t expected this talk between them to devolve into smokin’ hot sexy time, but like fucking hell would he put on the brakes when the two of them needed this.
This was one way the two of them had something separate from Nevvie. They were guys, and guys sometimes just needed to fuck.
Sometimes, the worse a situation was, the more they needed to fuck. They needed a few minutes where they could think about something other than whatever shitstorm their life had devolved to, and focus on nothing but the pleasure of busting a nut with the guy he loved.
One of the hottest fucks in his life, and the most humbling, was just after the day Tyler and Nevvie finally confronted him and knocked sense into his stupid head after his accident, when he was home and had stupidly been alienating Ty and Nev and flirting with a physical therapist. Lying in bed on his side, with Ty fucking his ass and Nevvie in front of him, stroking his cock to keep him hard and needy. After Ty had come, they’d helped Tom roll onto his back and Nevvie had ridden him until they’d both come.
He’d finally seen what the two of them had been trying to tell him ever since he’d awakened in the hospital—that they loved him and didn’t give a shit what his body was like. They only cared he was still alive.
And they’d meant it.
Another benefit of this sweet little fuck right now was with Tyler’s shirt on, Tom couldn’t see the old scar on Tyler’s chest from his heart surgery.
Couldn’t be reminded of how close they’d come to losing him.
Tom shifted his grip slightly and sped up his strokes. “I’m close, boy. Better make it fast.”
Sweet desperation filled Ty’s blue eyes, making Tom smile. Every cell in Tyler’s body was currently focused on him.
His heart was focused on him.
His soul was focused on him.
Tom leaned in and gently bit Tyler’s lower lip, pulling, teasing.
It was just enough. Tom’s hand was suddenly full of hot cum, the sudden slickness almost making him lose his hold on their cocks. He adjusted his grip on the fly and didn’t stop stroking, swallowing Tyler’s cries as Tom finally let go and his own orgasm exploded from him, turning the space between them into a sweet, sticky mess.
As his hand slowed and stopped, still holding their wilting cocks, he smiled down at Tyler. “Good boy.”
Tyler’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you so
much,” he whispered.
Tom swept his lips over Ty’s. “Love you, too, mister. You’ve always been my guy, and you always will be my guy.”
They snuggled on the sofa for a little while, finally realizing they had to get up and get moving before the kids arrived home from school. Together, they quickly crept upstairs. They thought maybe they’d missed Nevvie realizing they’d had a tryst when Tom opened their bedroom door just as she was coming out, surprising all three of them. She started laughing, then snorted.
“Office sofa sex. Niiice.”
Both men looked down, where it couldn’t be denied what they’d been doing, because it was smeared all over them.
“Sorry, love,” Tyler said, looking abashed.
“That wasn’t a complaint, sweetie.” She kissed him, then Tom. “Clean up and dump those in the laundry downstairs, please. I’ll be starting a load in a few minutes.”
She headed downstairs.
The men looked after her, then at each other.
“She didn’t yell at us,” Tom whispered.
“I know.” Tyler smiled. “We’re two lucky blokes, aren’t we?”
“I’m not upset because I know you guys needed it,” she called back. “And I can still hear you. Just because I’m not in the mood doesn’t mean I want you two to suffer.”
Tom and Tyler’s eyes widened before they softly laughed, leaning on each other for support.
And they got the laundry into the downstairs hamper in plenty of time.
Chapter Four
The next afternoon, Thursday, Tyler was home alone, writing, when the front doorbell rang. Tom had taken Nevvie to their appointment to talk to Zoey’s counselor. They would later pick up Zoey after school let out and take her for her own appointment.
With the mystery prowler still on the loose, despite no further visitations to date, Tyler didn’t like the thought of the house being empty when the kids got home. So he’d volunteered to stay behind. Plus he did have work to do.
Steven or Mikey would drive Willow home, after football practice ended. Until it did, she’d hang out in the school library and wait, or watch their practice at the school’s stadium.
Tyler thought about ignoring the doorbell, until he glanced out his front office window and saw the unmarked police car that sat parked in their driveway.
With a growing feeling of dread, Tyler went and answered the door. Detective Dunn stood there, alone.
“Mr. Paulson, sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with you.”
“Please, do come in.” Maybe it was stupid to do this here, without an attorney—and no doubt Bob would scream at him for it—but why not?
They had nothing to hide. Why should they be worried? “What is this about?”
“I need to talk to you about Cole Johnson’s murder.”
“Do you have more information?”
“No, I’m looking for more information.”
Tyler ran a hand through his hair. “Why talk to us? We were cleared.”
“Do you own a nine millimeter handgun?”
Tyler had to think for a moment. “Yes. It’s up in the gun safe.”
“Can you take me to it?”
“What on earth for?”
“Mr. Paulson, Cole Johnson was shot with a nine millimeter handgun.”
Tyler stared at him. “You can’t possibly think one of us had something to do with it. We already proved we were all home that night. None of us would do that.”
“Your wife threatened him.”
“I’m sure plenty of victims’ parents issued similar statements, perhaps not to his face or in front of the authorities.”
The detective arched an eyebrow at him. “Sir, you killed Alex LaRougue with a nine millimeter handgun.”
“And that’s precisely why I don’t carry the bloody thing now, isn’t it? Not to mention it was a completely justified shooting, and I was cleared of any wrongdoing. I wouldn’t have taken the blasted thing back after it was released as evidence, except my husband and wife didn’t want it somehow ending up in some gruesome collector’s hands. I put it in the gun safe and literally haven’t touched it since in, what, fifteen years?”
“During our initial investigation, you didn’t disclose to us that you owned a gun, sir.”
“Because I had a few things on my mind, didn’t I? Honestly, I’d forgotten I had the bloody thing. And secondly, you never asked me if I had a gun. You showed up here, accused my wife of murder, and asked if we could prove our whereabouts, which we did.”
“I need to see it, please. We can do this the easy way, or I can call in for a warrant and do it the hard way.”
Yep, Bob would definitely be screaming at him at this point, but Tyler just wanted the guy out of his hair. “Fine. Follow me, it’s this way. And I want a signed receipt from you that you’re taking it, including the serial number. I also want it back when you’re finished. Last thing I need is it showing up on an online auction or something, right?”
“No problem, sir.”
“This is a complete and utter waste of time, you know. Waste of police resources to run a ballistics test on it.” He started for the stairs, but the detective’s tone stopped him.
“How did you know we want to run a ballistics test on it?”
Tyler turned. “Are you daft? I know police procedures. Why else would you want to take my gun if not to rule out it was the murder weapon? Which it’s not.”
“We’ll see.”
Wanker. But he didn’t say that out loud. He led the detective upstairs to the master bedroom and pointed at the walk-in closet after he opened the door and turned on the light inside. “The gun safe is in there, in back, to your left. It’s also where Nevvie keeps her shotguns she uses for skeet. I’ll even let you open it yourself. I’ll give you the combination. Just shove the clothes hanging there to either side, out of the way.”
The detective donned a pair of nitrile gloves he pulled from his pocket and walked into the closet, where he pushed the clothes out of the way. Then he froze.
“Mr. Paulson, you said this gun safe is usually locked, correct?”
“Usually? Of course we keep it locked. Wouldn’t be any bloody use if it weren’t, now, would it? It’s a fireproof safe. We also keep personal documents, jewelry, things like that in it.”
The detective stood aside. “Then can you please take a look inside and tell me if anything’s missing?”
“Missing?” Tyler pushed his way past the detective and into the closet. Sure enough, the door stood ajar, just a little. If you weren’t looking carefully, it looked like it was closed. “Bloody hell!”
He hadn’t been in the safe in several months, at least. And buried in the back of the closet, with Nevvie’s clothes hanging in front of it, it wasn’t readily visible if you weren’t looking for it. He could be in and out of the closet a hundred times and never see it there.
“I…I don’t understand. We’re always so careful to lock it.”
Now the detective’s tone turned even more hostile. “Do you know when was the last time the safe was opened, and who opened it?”
Tyler rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the threatening headache. “Well, Nevvie hasn’t been out to shoot skeet in several months, as far as I know. Unless she went while I was out of town in New York or Brussels. Thomas opened it the Sunday night before we flew to Brussels, so he could retrieve our passports from it…” He distinctly remembered hearing Tom open it that night while on the phone with him.
“Mr. Paulson?”
“I’ll have to call Tom and Nevvie and ask them. It must have been one of them who opened it. They’re at a counseling appointment right now, though.”
“What about your children? Do they have the combination? Or any other family members? And is anything missing?”
“I-I don’t know, I’m not sure. About the combinations. I don’t know who has the combination. I’d have to ask Nevvie.”
Tyler started checking what he remembered had been
in there, seeing Nevvie’s and the children’s passports there, but not his and Tom’s, which were still in Tyler’s office, on his desk. The jewelry was there, too. Not a lot, but a few dear items they’d purchased for Nevvie over the years.
Nevvie’s shotguns were all there, in their zippered storage cases.
When he picked up the zippered pouch from the bottom of the safe, the one in which he kept the damn gun, even before he unzipped it from its light weight he realized the one thing the detective wanted to see was the only thing missing from the safe.
“Mr. Paulson? Is anything missing?”
“Yes.” Feeling sick at heart, he slowly turned to face the detective, showing him the empty case. “The nine millimeter. It’s gone.”
* * * *
Tyler was still trying to get hold of Nevvie and Tom, but they likely had their phones turned off or in do not disturb mode since they were still talking to Zoey’s counselor.
Tyler sat on the sofa as the detective talked to someone on the phone, something about getting crime scene techs out to dust the safe for fingerprints. On the coffee table lay the empty pouch that used to hold the gun. One of the two magazines he had for it was also missing.
He didn’t have any ammunition for it, though. The remaining magazine was empty, and he knew the second magazine had been empty, too. There hadn’t been a round in the chamber, either.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t placed a trigger lock on the gun like Nevvie had on her skeet guns. He’d had one for it when he first purchased it, but between the move to Savannah, and the police having custody of the gun for so long, he’d misplaced the thing.
Besides, it was locked in a bloody gun safe.
As a thought, he called John.
“Hey, Ty. What’s up?”
“I need to ask you a very serious question.”
“Sure.”
“Have you been in the gun safe in our bedroom closet lately?”
“No, why? I don’t even have the combination. I think Kelly has it written down somewhere.”
Tyler rubbed his forehead. “I don’t suppose you have my nine millimeter? The Glock?”
“No. Ty, what’s going on?”
Retribution Page 4