Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  And find myself rubbing out two angry orgasms while reading it.

  Angry, because I’m alone and Declan isn’t in bed with me.

  Angry, because my girl isn’t here with me.

  Casey was right—Ellen had a bunch of collections set up in her account, and this book was listed in one she’d titled Favorite MMMMMM.

  I’m not sure if that descriptor was because of the sexual pairings of the books she’d placed there, which were all men, sometimes two and sometimes way more than two, or because of the noises she made while reading them.

  I manage maybe two hours of sleep and it’s early Thursday morning when the screaming wind starts to return.

  Casey watches me closely during our morning meeting, but three of the other staffers are in there with us, so Case doesn’t make any comment.

  Declan glances at me a lot, more than he used to. Once we’re finished, I notice but don’t comment on how he hesitates at my office door before following Case out.

  Like he was hoping I’d ask him to stay for a moment.

  Tonight, they have to be at more budget talks that will run late, meaning he can’t come over.

  By Thursday afternoon, the screams have returned with a vengeance. I feel unsettled. I can’t explain how antsy, how…

  No.

  Angry.

  I feel angry.

  I don’t know why.

  I mean, I kinda do, but there’s no discernible target for me to unleash on. It’s life, it’s Fate, it’s the cruelty of random bad luck that shifted my life hard in a direction I never wanted it to go, and now making the best of the situation and unable to imagine not going down this new path, since I find myself here anyway.

  I miss Ellen. This recent series of events pounds home to me how much I miss her, how damned alone I really am.

  How unfair this was of Fate to take her from me.

  How unfair it is I cannot sleep.

  I never realized exactly how loud the screams and wind were until Declan silenced them.

  I think I’d grown pretty adept at tuning them out during the day, living with it like people who have tinnitus live with it. Except now I can’t ignore it. None of my tricks work anymore.

  Not now, with knowing the blissful silence that can exist.

  I stand, thinking that might help, staring down at my laptop as I read through this legislation. I periodically pace my office before returning to my laptop to read a little more.

  I want to peel my blazer and shirt off and rage, destroy…something.

  Anything.

  Even myself.

  When I turn I spy my phone on my desk, and I stare at it for a long moment. Before I can stop myself, I’m picking up the receiver and buzzing Dana, my AA.

  “Yes, Governor?”

  I shove away the little voice inside my brain that tries to warn me this is a baaaad idea. “I want Declan Howard in my office five minutes ago,” I tell her. “And hold all my calls and visitors. Even Casey.” I hang up on her without awaiting an answer.

  And I pace, circling my desk.

  I pace and I try to silence the angry buzzing in my brain that sounds like a scream. My cock thickens as I think about Tuesday night in the office, and later at home—and yesterday morning—and I end up behind my desk, where I force myself to sit and place my hands on my desk, palms flat.

  A quick double-tap on my office door a moment later makes me flinch. “Come.”

  Declan darts inside. I suck in a breath, imagine I can smell him, smell lube, smell whatever it was Casey was wearing that first night, and now I’m hard.

  “Lock it,” I softly say without moving.

  He pauses and, for a second, I wonder if he’s going to comply. My nostrils flare as I sense his willing fear and I savor it. He’s dressed in a tie and blazer that I want to rip off him, bend him over my desk, and fuck him until the noise of the wind screaming through the fuselage shuts the hell up in my brain.

  Two years later, and he’s the only thing that’s ever silenced the wind and the screams.

  It’s a tenuous and second-hand connection to my girl, but there you have it.

  He’s mine.

  And I want him.

  Time slows, the way it did that day on the airplane, except this time without death paying a visit. I watch his throat bob against his collar as he swallows, the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, the way his blazer rustles as he turns back to the door and flips the lock shut.

  When he faces me, I’m already up and moving and rounding my desk as I softly snap and point at the floor in front of it.

  Dark eyes look up at me and I take note of the short scruff of his goatee and mustache while he drops to his knees.

  My hands tremble, so I shove them in my pockets as I lean against my desk.

  Am I really going to do this?

  As the wind screams louder in my mind, I realize…yes.

  Yes, I am.

  He looks up at me, silent, waiting.

  When I step forward, unfastening my belt and slacks, his lips are already parting. I grab the back of his head with my left hand and fist the base of my cock with my right. I ram it down his throat without preamble, gagging him, but he doesn’t even try to pull away.

  “Hands behind your back,” I softly grit through my teeth.

  He complies.

  I hold his head with both hands and try to go slow, give him time to adjust, but I’m afraid the only way the screaming stops is if I start skull-fucking him.

  That’s what I do.

  I feel the scruff on his face against my balls, the heat of his tongue against the underside of my cock and sliding along the head.

  Blissful silence settles inside my brain and I gasp as I suck in a breath. It’s enough to make me fall still from the glorious shock of it, but I slide out just enough so he can breathe.

  Looking down, I find his brown eyes focused on me, soft and heavy-hooded and full of subspace.

  Maybe his mind’s gone quiet, too.

  I feel his scruff against my palms and the way his lips wrap around my cock.

  My cock, which is buried inside this man.

  I don’t know why he quiets my brain, but I didn’t realize how loud and unrelenting it was until he did.

  I brush my right thumb along his cheekbone, the soft skin beneath his left eye, and I realize his eyes aren’t the color of hers.

  He has two perfect eyes, a perfect mouth, and I feel his warm breath against me.

  The silence…

  My breath hitches in my chest as I slowly start moving again. I don’t look away, don’t close my eyes. I want to watch him, stay anchored to him.

  Anchored to the here and now.

  To the silence.

  “My good boy,” I whisper, and he softly moans.

  I pick up speed, not the brutal pace of before, but definitely more than Ellen could ever keep up with.

  Or, I should say, more than I was ever comfortable giving to Ellen, even at my roughest and darkest with her.

  There were countless times I held back and she wanted more.

  But I always held back.

  Be a good guy.

  Not wanting to go too far.

  Except my brain is quiet, and my mind is clear, and I’m terrified to lose this peace.

  On his knees in front of me, he’s…gone.

  Then again, so I am.

  “Take it, boy,” I whisper, my fingers tightening around his skull. I pump into him and savor the quiet, savor the bliss.

  I wouldn’t stop now even if I could.

  When I shift my right leg forward, between his thighs, I feel his hard cock pressing against my shin.

  Slowing again, I grin down at him. “Grind it out, if you can, before I come.”

  He starts humping himself against my leg. I’m reminded of all the times Ellen used to do something similar—and I wipe that image away because it wants to bring the screams back.

  The scream of the wind through the hole in th
e side of the plane.

  The screams of my fellow passengers.

  My screams.

  She died before she could ever scream.

  I’m quiet and my brain is quiet and Declan’s quiet, except for his soft, wordless grunts, which I feel through my cock.

  That makes me slow down again, because it feels soooo fucking good.

  “Get it, boy,” I tell him. He’s nearly desperate now and I have to bite back my own laugh as he grinds against me.

  This is the most fun I’ve had—

  Since before that day.

  This is the first fun I’ve had, this crazy and reckless new thing I have with him.

  The only fun.

  The sadist in me sits up and stretches again, welcoming this respite from my self-imposed prison.

  I reach down with my right hand, grab his tie—not one of mine today, unfortunately—and wrap it around my fist.

  Another low, soft noise vibrates through my cock and his humping and grinding grows even more frantic.

  I truly own him in this moment.

  My world tightly draws in, the blissful silence nearly pulling me over the edge. But I slow down because while it would be a huge giggle to come first and pull my leg away and listen to him pitifully whine…

  I want this. I want to be the one to make him come.

  I want to keep owning this beautiful silence.

  I need this.

  I want him to need me.

  I want him to utterly belong to me the way he did the other night in Casey’s office, and the way he did the other night in my bed.

  Whatever I have to do to keep this going, I will.

  Tension fills his body, building, soft, chuffing whines around my cock making my balls ache and throb. He’s close.

  I wonder if she’s let him come since the other day? Or if he minds that she controls that with him? Doesn’t matter if she controls it or not, at this point.

  Because I will.

  I’ll let my boy come as much as he wants as long as he keeps taking what I give him, and he keeps bringing sweet, quiet bliss to my brain.

  Reading him, I start moving with him and we settle into a rhythm. It’s only a minute or so before I see it start, feel it, his tongue pressing my cock against the roof of his mouth as he struggles to remain upright through his climax and keep his hands behind his back and stay quiet, all at once.

  Such a good boy.

  That’s all I needed, too. I drive my cock deep into his mouth and it’s all I can do to remain upright as pleasure spikes through me and I dump my load down his throat.

  I only hold there for a moment, easing back so he can breathe again. “Get it all,” I say, and he works on me, using his tongue on the head and coaxing every last drop out of me, the tip of his tongue tracing the slit.

  Eagerly.

  This is not a man being forced in any way. I shed the last vestiges of guilt I held like reptilian skin and slough it off.

  I finally loosen my grip on his head but I hold his tie.

  “Tuck me in,” I tell him. “Belt and everything.”

  He does and looks up at me with a lost, sweet, sated look.

  “Good boy. From now on, you do not come unless you earn it first with me. Not unless I’ve given you permission.” I stroke his head. “Not even with her. Do you understand?”

  He nods. “Yes, Sir,” he whispers.

  I give him a good-boy head scratch with my left hand and finally release his tie, but I can’t stand here with him all day. The silence is back, and I can once again think.

  That means I need to get back to work. “Please tell Dana I’ll take calls and visitors again.” I slowly round my desk and retake my seat, and does it make me a total bastard that I nearly giggle watching him stagger to his feet?

  I can still feel the way he ground against my shin.

  He starts toward the door. “Declan.” He turns. I motion to my own neck. “Tie.”

  He finally realizes what I mean and reaches up, straightens it, smooths it, and runs a hand through his hair before he unlocks the door and leaves.

  I blow out a long breath and lean back in my chair as I wonder if Casey’s going to rip me a new one for this.

  Or, should I say, when she rips me a new one for this.

  Because I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before she comes storming in here. That was careless, reckless, and dangerous.

  And then there’s my order to him.

  I can’t help the smile that creases my face, a smile that’s been absent for too fucking long.

  But the blissful silence in my brain is a reason to smile.

  Isn’t it?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m honestly shocked when I leave work on Thursday a little after seven and Casey still hasn’t shown up in my office to rip me a new one.

  Maybe Declan hasn’t had a chance to tell her what happened yet.

  Or, maybe he’s not going to tell her.

  Not going to lie, that possibility makes me fricking hard.

  I’m halfway home when my personal cell rings.

  Aussie.

  “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”

  “Are you still at work, Dad?”

  I hate to feel cynical, but since she’s been at school I usually don’t get many calls, aside from my Sunday check-in, unless she needs something. “No, I’m on my way home. Why?”

  “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  Now I’m really suspicious. “No. Why?”

  “Ashleigh and I were over here getting something from her parents’ house, and we thought if you weren’t busy we’d bring dinner and hang for a little while.”

  I sense maybe there’s more to this than she’s saying, but maybe not. “Sure. If you get there before I do, leave the alarm off.”

  “Roger-dodger. Love you, Daddy.”

  I smile. “Love you, too, sweetheart.” Maybe she doesn’t want something. She’s called me Daddy a lot ever since…

  Like she’s not afraid to let me see her true emotions now.

  Before, when we first hit the surly tween girl age with her, we went from Mommy and Daddy to Mom and Dad—or Mother and Father if she was especially irritated at us—usually only getting the first set of labels if she was trying to hit us up for money or permission to do something.

  Maybe she just wants some face-time with her old man.

  Knowing Aussie is visiting me tonight also helps chase away the growing darkness in my mind. I don’t drop in on her at college, because that’s a security hassle and embarrasses her when I do. Then I’m also unable to have alone-alone time with her, because everyone wants to come see her dad.

  Not because I’m the governor, either, but because they want selfies with the “miracle man.”

  No, thank you.

  I don’t feel like putting myself through that, but I can’t refuse them without looking like an asshole.

  Worse, they’re nearly all voters now, so I feel obligated to schmooze.

  This is all stuff I’ve talked with Aussie about, too. She knows how I feel, so it works out better if she comes to visit me, either at work or at home.

  When we arrive, Ashleigh’s car is parked in front of the house and the officer driving me tonight notes that. “Do I need to wait for a moment, sir?” he asks.

  “No, it’s just my daughter and her friend. It’s all right.” I noted the extra marked car parked outside the development when we arrived, Aussie’s security detail, no doubt. Once she’s eighteen, she can refuse protection, if she wants, unless I order it.

  I’m still…trying to figure that out.

  Part of me knows yes, she needs to have privacy, especially at this time of her life.

  But she’s my little girl.

  At least the boys aren’t fighting me on it—yet. And they’re the ones I thought would pitch a fit about it. Even though they both have cars of their own, I think they like having someone to drive them around and not have to worry about parking, or paying for gas.
>
  I’m hoping Aussie will strike a balance with me, that she’ll at least selectively accept protection. Maybe not on campus, which is relatively safe, but maybe if she needs to travel off-campus.

  I smell the pizza even before I make it out of the foyer, where I don’t even stop to remove my coat.

  I want my hug, dammit.

  They’re in the kitchen and have already set the table. Aussie swoops in at the kitchen doorway and gives me a long, strong hug. I can close my eyes for an all-too-brief moment and pretend it’s Ellen watching us with amusement on her face instead of Ashleigh.

  I guess now my daughter isn’t the only one with a secret.

  I finally release her, because my stomach starts growling from the smell of pizza. Pulling off my jacket, I hang it over an empty chair. “So, what’s the occasion?” I remove my blazer, loosen and take off my tie, and roll up my shirt sleeves before sitting down.

  She grins. “It’s a thank-you.”

  “For what?”

  “The idea for talking to the CFO at the hospital about their fundraising…” Annnd we’re off. I sit and eat and listen, not interrupting.

  I could watch and listen to her talk all night. She has Ellen’s mannerisms and her mother’s inflection. It’s almost like I’m back in college and knowing I was going to marry the pretty girl I’d only just met.

  From the way Ashleigh’s smiling as she watches her, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s running through her mind, too.

  When Aussie finishes, I swallow the bite of pizza I’d been working on. “Congratulations, sweetheart. Thank you for listening to your old man of eighty or ninety years of age.”

  She laughs and leans in for another hug. “I love you, Daddy.”

  I somehow swallow back the prickle of tears threatening to hit me right now. “Love you, too, Aus.”

  They stay until nearly eleven. Turns out there was no ulterior motive, just my daughter genuinely wanting to thank me and spend time with me.

  I mean, sure, I know it also means she and Ashleigh get to snuggle on my couch together while we all watch TV for a little while, but they share a fricking dorm room together.

  They have plenty of time to be alone together.

  Ashleigh’s parents know and are fine with it, but the girls still haven’t publicly come out, or told Ryder and Logan. Maybe some of the security team suspects something, but if they do, they haven’t said anything to me about it.