Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  Tweezers, and blending sponges, and—

  I gasp, sobbing. I accidentally bump one of the drawers with my knee, but instead of the dull thump of a pressboard drawer against a contractor-grade slide kit, I hear a sharp, metallic bang painfully echo through my brain, followed by a roaring scream, and I’m screaming—

  Then they’re suddenly there, both of them, holding me as my knees give out, Casey and Declan both wrapping their arms around me and Casey trying to calm me down.

  “Why won’t it stop?” I sob. “Why won’t it go away?”

  I close my eyes and cry, and at some point I open them and realize I’m in bed and the room is dark.

  I’m not alone.

  Declan sits up against the headboard. My head’s in his lap, my arms tightly wrapped around him, desperately clinging to him even in sleep.

  I don’t remember them moving me from the bathroom.

  He strokes my hair. “There he is.”

  I nuzzle my face against the solid warmth of his body. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly two.”

  Holy shit.

  I sit up. “What happened? Where’s Case?”

  “She helped me get you back in bed. She said it was probably a flashback and due to you not getting any sleep. Once you passed out, she headed home.” He sighs. “I have your Xanax. She told me to offer you one if you woke up in the middle of the night.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  He strokes my hair again. “What can I do, Sir?”

  I don’t even think about it. I tackle him onto the bed, kissing him, rolling him onto his back under me and grinding against him.

  My mind is clear and quiet.

  So fucking quiet.

  Blissfully quiet.

  I find his hands and shift them over his head, pinning him to the bed as I kiss him and rock my hips against his. He’s hard.

  So am I.

  Only after I can’t take it any longer do I sit up, grab the lube, and roll onto my back.

  I don’t grab a condom, either.

  I slather myself and pull him onto me, kissing him as he slowly impales himself.

  It’s…glorious.

  He pauses once he’s completely settled, his hands braced on the bed on either side of my head, and his head droops as he breathes through it.

  His cock is hard, twitching between us.

  “My good boy,” I whisper.

  He shivers.

  I reach up and brush the pads of my thumbs over his nipples. “You’re my boy, too, aren’t you?”

  He nods. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Eyes on me, Dec.”

  He slowly lifts his head and stares me in the eyes. “You’re not going to let me go, are you, George?”

  I can’t tell if he means that as a statement or a question, so I assume the latter. With his head gently cupped in my hands, I kiss him.

  Tonight, I want to think about this, about him.

  About the quiet.

  I’m beyond the point of trying to figure out why a man, why now.

  All that matters to me is not losing this peace I never again thought I’d feel.

  “If you want me to let you go,” I finally say, “then all you have to do is safeword.”

  His forehead touches mine and he stays just like that for a moment. “No.”

  “No, you don’t want me to let you go, Declan? You tell me.”

  He kisses me, hard, deep, desperately. When he lifts his lips from mine, he shivers again. “No, I don’t want you to let me go, George.”

  “Then show me, baby,” I tell him. “Show me how you want me to make love to you.”

  He starts moving again as we kiss, dropping down so yes, his cock is pinned between the two of us. I bend my knees to brace my feet for traction, and he hooks his feet under my legs, his heels tucked up against my ass.

  I take control of the kiss as he fucks himself on me, my arms around him, my fingers in his hair, and my lips over his. All the while he slowly rocks back and forth, a slow simmer for me that I can tell is close to flashing over for him. When he finally comes, it’s with a sweet, soft gasp and a full-body shudder that takes me over with him.

  And instead of moving to clean up, I wrap my arms around him, roll us onto our sides, and like that, still joined together, I crash back into silent oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, Declan’s still snuggled in my arms but he has his personal phone and is texting one-handed.

  Based on how early it is, I’m assuming with Casey.

  “Tell her I’m alive,” I mumble.

  He smiles and kisses me. “I already did.”

  “Wait.” I sniff. “Did she come in and make coffee?” That’s what woke me up—the smell of coffee brewing.

  “She preset it for me last night,” he says. “Timer.”

  “Ah.” I relax. I’m back to feeling possessive of Declan, and especially of my limited time with him.

  She said I could have him to myself all weekend—dammit, I want him all weekend.

  And I want the sweet, blessed silence he brings with him.

  I need it.

  We end up in the shower, cleaning up and taking care of business, and then it’s back to bed after he fetches coffee for us.

  We have hours before we have to be up and moving, and I’m spending it in bed with him.

  “Do you remember anything about last night?” he asks.

  He doesn’t have to clarify what he means.

  I close my eyes, bracing myself for an emotional tsunami, but unlike last night it’s more a memory than an active reliving of the events.

  Last night scares me because I’ve never had anything like that happen before. The sounds weren’t just a memory in my brain. They were…real.

  Terrifyingly real.

  I swore I felt frigid air and rain stinging my flesh.

  Opening my eyes, I focus on him to anchor myself here and now. “I was staring at her sink and realizing how empty the counter looked. Then I bumped one of the drawers with my knee. Something about the sound… I had a flashback, I guess. It was really intense.”

  I draw in a shuddering breath but his arms tighten around me, holding me against him, and it’s…all right. There’s still quiet in my head. I don’t hear the noises right now.

  “Do you have those often?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I’ve never had anything like that before.”

  “Does being with me help, Sir?”

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  * * * *

  We make it to the barbecue—barely. I broke out the rope again, and some implements I hadn’t used on him yet. It took Declan playfully threatening to call Casey for him to finally persuade me to untie him so we could get ready.

  When I hold my front door open for Declan to go first, under my boy’s jeans he’s sporting a nicely reddened ass.

  And he’s filled with a butt plug.

  Which he’s no stranger to wearing, apparently.

  I don’t lock him up today because I want him hard and needy, and I want the possibility of teasing him, should the chance arise.

  I want to know he’s hard for me.

  For what I’m doing with him.

  I do my best at the barbecue to let my Governor Forrester mask shine. Even when Case gets me alone for a moment and drops into full-on friend mode and asks me if I’m okay.

  I somehow manage not to cry as I hug her and thank her again for letting me have him for the weekend.

  And I apologize, again, for my asshole behavior.

  I really don’t deserve her—I don’t.

  “When do I get to hear the story about you and Declan?” I ask. “He said you asked to tell me that story.”

  Her smile bears a wistful pang I can’t interpret. “Not right now. Enjoy your time with him. We’ve got too much to do right now, between budget hearings and the DC trip, to worry about that. You and I can sit down
and talk about me and Declan later. I’d rather if you have free time where I can shoehorn in time for you with him that we do that. You need it.”

  I can’t argue with her there, because she’s absolutely right.

  I do need it—I need him.

  I survive the barbecue, and fortunately very few people talk to me about Ellen or my ordeal. Declan and Casey help redirect people if they start triggering me, and when Casey sees I’ve had enough, she runs interference for me and has Declan get me out of there.

  Upon our return to my house, we spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, making love and talking—yes, talking a lot about work, but also…talking.

  I want to know more about Declan.

  We talk movies, and books, and I learn for the first time he had an older sister who died, but he doesn’t want to talk about the circumstances today.

  Fair enough, because I’d rather keep things light for both of us, if possible. I order us Chinese food for dinner so we don’t have to go out, and for the first time in two years, as we eat in bed, still snuggled and talking, I almost feel…normal.

  Sunday, we spend it in bed, too. Not just fucking, but going over budget stuff, and working on my speech for the NGA.

  Which reminds me of what’s coming up.

  I lie there with my head in his lap while he sits up with his laptop and works on the speech, reading me stuff, trying lines on me, noting my edits.

  This is…

  Weird and delightfully domestic, and I’m terrified for tomorrow morning to come.

  I don’t want to lose this.

  Him.

  I don’t want to lose him.

  I want to order him to park his car in my garage—literally, because it looks fucking empty with only my SUV out there, and I rarely drive it anymore. It’s a three-car garage with only my car in it. I gave Aussie Ellen’s car.

  I…

  I swallow, thinking about it.

  “George?” I realize he’d been talking to me.

  “Huh?”

  “What did you think about that line?”

  I look up at him. I’ve left my glasses off for now, and he’s a little fuzzy, like a soft filter. “I need to tell you something and it can’t go any farther than this room.”

  He nods.

  “Susannah Evans. I was shipwrecked with her.”

  He nods again.

  “She and her husband, Carter, are way more than friends with Owen Taylor.”

  “The Florida governor?”

  “Yeah. They’re a triad. They’ve been together since college.”

  “You mean…romantically?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sets his laptop aside and apparently is following my train of thought. “You’re the governor of one of the most conservative states in the country,” he reminds me, Declan in the room now, not my boy, not Casey’s boy. “And you’re running for re-election.”

  “So? Owen’s the governor of Florida. He ran. Susa is his lieutenant. Carter’s his chief of staff. She’s going to run for governor after Owen’s second term.”

  “Why are you bringing this up right now?”

  I sit up, eye-to-eye with him. “Why not us?”

  “Why not us, what?”

  “The three of us. Full-time.”

  It takes him a long moment to answer me. “Well, for starters, I think you and Casey might kill each other.” He smirks. “Or me.” Then he laughs. “Or I might kill both of you.”

  “Would you be for it?”

  “After you’re out of office? Maybe. We can’t do anything right now to jeopardize your re-election.”

  “Maybe?”

  “George, whatever this is, it’s still new. We don’t even know what the hell this is between us yet. A lot can change between now and November. Hell, I’ll be happy just to get you through the DC trip. I’m focused on immediate goals. DC trip. Passing the budget. Legislative session. Fundraising. Re-election.”

  “But we could do it. Even if we have separate houses still, we could do it. You and Casey could get married or something.” I don’t miss the scowl that flashes across his features. “What?”

  “She won’t ever marry me or anyone else, George. You know that.”

  “What?”

  He gives me a look that’s nearly a Dom look. The eyebrow thing, all of it. “She warned me early on she’s not marriage material. Nothing she’s ever said or done makes me think she’s changed that position. She made it perfectly clear to me that she would own me, not the other way around, and I had to be okay with that. That was part of the trade-off I made to be with her, knowing she’ll never marry me, and that she very well might not ever want to live with me.”

  I have to ask it. “Has she cheated on you?” I don’t understand why I’m going there, but I do.

  He looks confused. “What?”

  “You know she dates lots of guys, right?” I feel like a cowardly shit for saying that.

  He sadly sighs and then leans in and kisses me. “You’re adorable.”

  Which confuses me even more, but I go with it. “What?”

  “Most of the time,” he says, “it’s as their beard. Or for some other politically convenient reason. Like she wants to meet someone else at an event to talk, so it doesn’t look prearranged, or the guy she goes out with wants to make connections, so they have a quid pro quo arrangement with each other. But I didn’t tell you that.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Yeah. Since we’ve been together, yes, she’s gone out with lots of other guys, made it look like she had relationships with a bunch of them, but she’s not sleeping with them. She hasn’t slept with any of them.”

  “How do you know?”

  He laughs. “Because for starters, since I’ve been with her, I’ve helped fix her up with a lot of them.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Plus, it’s a smokescreen to hide what we’ve been doing. No one knows about me and her. Well, except you now. And—” He clamps his mouth shut, but before he can look away, I grab his chin.

  “And? And who?”

  It takes him a moment to answer, but I wait him out, holding his chin so he can’t look away.

  “Ellen,” he finally admits. “She knew about us.”

  It feels like he nailed me in the guts with a sledgehammer. “What?”

  She never told me. Even after all the little comments I’d made to her in private when Case went somewhere with yet another guy.

  “She knew. Because Casey made a few arrangements in her will, and she wanted someone else to know why she did it so no one thought I was trying some sort of fuckery.”

  “Arrangements?”

  “Like she wanted me to handle the funeral, personal property and assets she’s left me, things like that.”

  This leaves me confused and conflicted. “Really?”

  “Really. She loves me, and I love her. She doesn’t have to cheat on me, because if she ever did want to fuck someone else, all she’d have to do is tell me that. Ditto with me. That’s our deal. She has no reason to lie to me about it.”

  It’s not an exaggeration to say I deflate over that news. I release him, except he doesn’t let me get away with that.

  He kisses me. “There’s room for you, too. I want this. You’re the one who was just talking about being poly together.”

  “I feel like the world’s shittiest friend,” I admit.

  “She creates the image she wants people to see. You’re not the only one who thinks she’s a serial dater. That’s what she wants people to think.”

  “But…why?”

  He frames an imaginary headline. “Senator Forrester’s Chief of Staff is a Kinky Bitch,” he says. “Or, how about, Governor Forrester’s Staff Filled With Freaks.” He slowly shakes his head. “We’re protecting you, asshole.” Then he smiles, and I laugh.

  I laugh and feel like I’m losing my mind.

  I try to get him to let me make love to him, but he wants to work on the speech still, so we comp
romise.

  I make love to him.

  Then we go back to working on the speech, this time with me sitting up in bed and his head in my lap, his laptop balanced on his stomach.

  By the time we finally fall asleep that night, I’ve left plenty of marks all over him, and we’ve both come so many times we’re empty.

  For now, everything in my head is…quiet.

  Blissfully, peacefully quiet.

  * * * *

  Somehow, we make it through the next week and weekend without Casey and me killing each other or Declan.

  Although she did return him to me the next weekend with several fresh, plum-smudged bite marks on him.

  The weeknights he’s not with me, I only manage one, maybe two hours of sleep at a time, if I’m lucky. Three times now, Casey’s had him lock himself in my office with me for afternoon “meetings,” which were actually me napping on the couch with my head in his lap while he went through e-mails on his work phone, or worked on his laptop, which he sat on a folding TV table I keep in there for when I’m working late and want to eat on my couch while watching TV. No sex during those times, just me grabbing some desperately needed sleep.

  It’s not as good as a full night’s sleep, but we’re in a critical time right now, and he’s usually bogged down with meetings late into the evenings.

  Although, we do sneak two more office blowjobs in during that time period, late in the day after everyone else has left and Casey’s busy in meetings or dealing with work-related issues.

  I call him in and tell him to lock the door.

  And he sees the smile on my face and smiles in reply as he locks it.

  That’s a smile I’m going to quickly learn to grow hard over every time I see it.

  Then…there was Valentine’s Day. It was…rough. Not going to lie.

  I don’t know what their original plans were, but Casey and Declan show up unannounced and spend it with me at the house.

  That evening’s permutation is her sitting on his face and riding him while holding his ankles for me, while I fuck him and stroke his cock for him.

  I almost convinced Casey to spend the night with us, too. She’d started to drift to sleep on Declan’s other side when she realized what time it was.

  Then she left after kissing him on the lips and kissing me on the forehead.

  He spends the whole night with me.