Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (27 page)

“This stays in until I take it out, except for a call of nature. If you disobey, you won’t come for a week.”

The tip pushed, making Beach push back to fit it in. “Yes, Sir.” He tried to spread his legs, but they were pinned by his slacks.

Tai shoved it in with an eye-watering stretch that subsided quickly into a sweet burn. Despite taking Tai’s dick up his ass a couple nights a week, there was always that first resistance, the shock and scrape as his body adjusted. The plug was smaller, and the narrow neck meant his muscles could relax. The loop that made up the base settled smoothly against Beach’s skin, tucked close to his body. Tai tugged and shifted the plug, sending pleasure rippling out from where the smooth ball rolled across Beach’s gland, then stepped back.

Beach straightened, ass closing, clenching, sending off another wave inside. He closed his eyes. Fully dressed for a party and fucked at the same time. Not just fucked. Owned. Tai would be in him no matter where Beach went or who he talked to. He wanted to drop to his knees, but whether he would thank Tai or beg him to take it out, Beach didn’t know.

Even in silence, with every breath, every move, Tai demanded and Beach—David gave.

“You make that face when I’m in you.” Tai put a hand on Beach’s cheek.

“You are, Sir.”

“Good boy. Go make me proud.”

Montgomery Manor fronted the water, and today that brought breezes that kept the mid-July sun from being brutal as it gleamed on the guests and the flowers and the caterers. Everything was the height of elegance. Even the breeze displayed enough etiquette to flutter the table linens while refraining from disruptive force. Beach tried to maintain equal standards by not emitting moans and keeping his program or jacket angled to hide the constant interest his dick had in the sensations from his ass.

He escorted Mrs. Dougherty along the table where the cultivars were displayed, either in picture or in person. “Just think of how this shade will draw attention to the veranda. It complements your hydrangeas perfectly.”

“They don’t bloom at the same time, dear. But I’m flattered you remember the hydrangeas.”

Since he’d hidden in them when he was sneaking out of their house one night—he hadn’t known the Doughertys’ daughter Julia had gotten married in London—they were rather prominent in his memory.

“Your gardens have always been a special part of any visit, ma’am.”

“Your Southern charm will be the death of me, and call me Lydia.”

Beach flipped open the cream-colored leather auction folder. “Perhaps I should put a bid on them. My aunt would like them.” Knowing which levers to push, Beach drew his finger down the list of bids so Lydia’s eyes would follow.

Her gasp was as predictable as it was satisfying. “If that…that
arriviste
Sierra thinks she’ll buy her way into The Francis Scott Key Azalea Society with that, she is sadly mistaken.” Lydia wrote an impressive figure on the next line and signed with a flourish.

Gavin had definitely known what he was doing, not providing numbers to the bidders. The competition was only enhanced by seeing the names of the competitors.

“It is a striking color.” Someone brushed by, jostling him, and his muscles gripped, awakening a fresh round of heat to flush his face.

“Beach, I have never seen you so passionate.” She pulled him down to buss his cheek. “Your mother would be thrilled to see you taking an interest. She loved her gardens.”

Beach tried to politely point out that his mother was not dead, just in France—well, the last he knew. “I’m sure she’s quite busy with her lilies in Lille.”

“That was dreadful, Beach.” She laughed and shoved lightly at his upper arm, creating a new shift inside him. Following the torture of the car ride, after which he had needed to hold a cup of ice against his lap to make himself decent, he’d adjusted to the feeling of the smooth weight resting at such an intriguingly pleasant angle inside. In fact, he’d almost convinced himself he was in control, that he could ignore it as long as he wasn’t moving, but then he’d catch himself clenching because he missed it. Missed the mark of Tai’s possession, his presence. It wasn’t only the thrill of getting away with all but having sex under everyone’s nose, it was having Tai here, so close that Beach expected to feel the rumble of Tai’s voice or the solid brace of his hands at any moment.

Like the leather bands Beach kept tugging his cuffs down to conceal, the constant prod and shift inside reminded him that he belonged to Tai. Yielding that much control gave Beach more freedom than he’d ever had, even steering the
Nancy
out to sea.

He wanted to give something to Tai in exchange. “Lydia, I wonder if I might ask your opinion of this particular breeder.”

One item at auction was the opportunity to work with a breeder for exclusive rights to a rose cultivar, including the choice of name to appear on the official registry. Not that Beach had noticed Tai having any particular appreciation for flowers, but he might enjoy giving that to Sammie, or his mother. Beach would claim Tai had purchased it with the donation check Beach still needed to turn over to Gavin. Beach tightened his ass again and bit back a sigh. He was looking forward to that conversation.

Lydia read over the details. “The breeder is new, but his work is getting good attention. I heard he’s light in the loafers himself, which would explain the generous donation.”

I don’t have to personally experience an injustice to want to correct it, David.

“Not that it isn’t a wonderful thing Gavin is doing for those children,” Lydia amended.

“Of course not.”

Lydia lifted the bidding folder and opened it. Her razor-thin brows rose. “Apparently the rest of the bidders think highly of his work.”

Beach looked at the last number. He didn’t recognize the name of the bidder, but the number made a salient impression. Still, it was for a good cause and his father hadn’t contacted him about the money. He raised the bid to six hundred thousand and signed off, thinking of Tai’s expression when he realized he could have a flower named after his daughter.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

“I can never resist that drawl of yours.” She tapped him with her purse. “Now, be a good boy and bring me some champagne.”

The trip to the bar along the graveled path was almost equal to the level of torture produced by the vibrations in the Spider. Beach was chewing his lip by the time he arrived.

A vaguely familiar platinum blond was turning away as Beach stepped up. One close look and Beach placed him. Baby-faced with seductively old eyes and a fuck-off attitude. Beach had been intrigued, but Gavin had declared Silver completely off-limits.

Silver had two glasses of something that smelled sweet.

“What are you drinking?” Beach eyed the creamy head on the fizzy liquid.

“KZ cream soda.”

“Champagne and a KZ cream soda.”

Silver raised his brows.

“The soda’s for me. I’m on my best behavior today.” The plug shifted as Beach reached for his order.

“How boring for you,” Silver answered.

“It can have its own rewards.” Beach considered what he’d earn later for all his good deeds.

“Hmpf.” Silver either didn’t understand or understood too much.

They moved back down the path. Silver was in lightweight trousers and a linen shirt, but if his slacks had been black instead of gray, he might have been mistaken for a server.

“How did you get roped in to this?” Beach asked.

“I’m the horrible example.”

Beach stopped. “Of what?”

“The need for the shelter.”

Beach still couldn’t follow. “You—”

“Parents tossed me out, I hit the streets, turned to prostitution to survive.” Silver uttered the last in a dramatic-documentary tone.

“I didn’t know any of that.” His voice sounded strangled, even to him.

“Jeez, Beach, ’fraid you might have been a customer?”

“No. Not at all but—where are you living now?”

“Right now, with my boyfriend, ’til I move into an apartment on the first.”

“Didn’t think of you as the boyfriend type when we met at the gallery with Gavin.”

“You either.” Silver jerked his chin at Beach, then looked pointedly at his wrists. “But someone’s holding your leash now.”

Sir’s hand around David’s throat. His collar tight there. Beach’s body locked around the plug, driving it in, his hips shifting as it tapped his gland.

“Yeah.” Silver had a knowing half smile, but he shook his head. “Guess you never can tell.”

Why hadn’t it bothered Beach to name Tai his Dominant in front of Clayton, but he froze under the knowing smirk from someone barely an adult?

“I—have to deliver this champagne to a lady. It was nice to see you again, Silver.”

Beach downed his soda and went to bump up his donation to seven-fifty.

Tai looked up from where he’d been staring at his toes to explain, “Everything we do, he’s ready for more.”

“Well, that sounds dire indeed.” Nic’s face was more sharply angled than usual given the bars of light from the crossbeams over his deck, a pergola he called it, when Tai couldn’t figure out why no one had bothered to finish the roof. By mid-August, it would be overgrown by climbing vines offering complete shade, but now the top was still open to the sun.

“How do I know if I can be enough? Or when to stop?”

“Has he ever used his safe word?”

“Yes.”

“Then he knows how to stop if he needs to. I sense you’re not talking just about scenes though.” Nic poured himself another glass of wine, but Tai waved the offer away.

“He said he didn’t know how to be around me when he wasn’t my sub.”

Nic settled back in his chair, stretching out his denim-clad legs to cross them at bare ankles. “That is a lot of pressure, expecting you to maintain control.”

Embarrassed by Nic’s sympathy, Tai dropped his face into his hands. “I want it too. It’s hard to make myself back off when it’s a real-life situation and not simply play.”

“Now I see the problem. You both enjoy a 24/7 consensual D/s relationship.”

“Yes.”

Nic started to laugh, and it stung.

“C’mon. I’m serious. How long can we keep that up?”

“With the right sort of cock ring, I imagine pretty long.”

“Thanks a fucking lot.” Tai rose in frustration, then stepped down from the deck and peered into the vibrant blue of the rectangular pool. “I’m serious.”

“Toluaotai, I’ve seen you with all kind of subs. You make them fly, and it feeds you, but you walk away without a backward glance. Did it never occur to you that a fully D/s relationship is what you’ve been after?”

“But how will I know I’m doing it right?”

“Like every other relationship. You figure it out as it goes. From what you’ve said, your boy has no trouble asking for boundaries.”

“He craves them.” A burst of heat flooded Tai’s chest as he thought of David wearing the plug, enduring the discomfort, the endless sensation, because Tai demanded it. “He knows how much he needs them, even as he pushes.”

“I look forward to meeting him.”

“I hear the
but
in your tone.”

Nic sighed. “I can’t give you permission to do this. I’m not your Master, I’m your mentor.”

“I didn’t ask you for permission. Just advice.” Tai sat back on the deck and leaned against a support beam for the pergola, back pressed against the climbing vines.

“Very well. One, stop crushing my grapevines. Two, stop looking for reasons to walk away.”

“Me? Are you saying I have commitment issues?” But he did straighten from his lean.

Nic’s voice was soft. “You could have fought for Samantha.”

“I did. I insisted on DNA rather than just a blood-type.”

“You were the sole financial support for almost three years.”

“I didn’t want her to go through that, to feel like a prize in some tug-of-war over who stayed.”

“And will you be stoic and noble and let your boy go for his own good?”

“I wouldn’t make him stay.”

“Not even if it was as easy as asking him to?”

Tai stood and walked to the pool again. “I’m not the one with commitment issues. He can’t even commit to a gender to fuck.”

“That’s grim. I thought Samoans were the happy people of Polynesia.”

“What the fuck—” Tai bit off the rant as he caught on to Nic’s point. “So it’s a generalization. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Or that it is. Has he been pining for feminine company?”

“Not that he’s mentioned.” Tai played back their breakfast outing. David’s eyes hadn’t strayed much from Tai’s face.

“Then it appears the only thing standing in your way is you. Stop thinking about what could go wrong and enjoy what’s going right.”

Beach was unable to find Lydia Dougherty anywhere, so of course he had to be holding the flute of rapidly warming champagne when Gavin walked up.

“It’s not mine,” Beach explained and placed the glass on the nearest table under the tent. “I was delivering it to Mrs. Dougherty.”

Gavin blinked. “I never said it was. What’s the bug up your ass?”

Beach tried to control it, but he snorted and was afraid that the ending sound was too close to a giggle for comfort. “I’m fine. Where’s Sergeant Boyfriend?”

Gavin’s half smile was rueful. “He doesn’t play well with others. Plus he had to work.”

“For which we are all supremely grateful. And by that I meant we appreciate his sacrifices as he does his duty to keep us safe.”

Gavin shoved Beach’s shoulder. The motion sent off a chain reaction that left Beach gasping as his staggered steps moved the plug hard and fast against his gland. His dick swelled, and he had to drop into a chair to hide it under the table linen. Next time Sir sent David off with something up his ass, he was dressing in something more concealing than lightweight cotton.

Gavin surveyed the party for a moment and must have decided it was fine without him because he joined Beach at the table. “Sorry, Beach. I forgot. I know you must be sick of the cane, but should you really be going without so soon? You’ve been walking funny all day.”

Beach gulped in air to forestall his laugh but only succeeded in choking until his eyes watered. “The physical therapy has been helping a lot,” he gasped when he could speak.