Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True (23 page)

He was on his Master’s heels before he reached the bathroom door and plowed into his back. Bass laughed as he hugged Ryker.

“You’ll give me a collar…so soon?” Ryker felt like someone had just offered him a million dollars for life. Every sub wanted a collar, but only Master Doms gave them to their subs. It could take years to earn one, so needless to say he was knocked off his feet with joy. It didn’t matter that it was so early, he knew that Bass was a true Master Dom and he would not give his one and only collar away lightly. Once it was given to a sub no one could ever wear it but him.

“Yes, sweet boy. You will have your collar today. I don’t follow a protocol on when I give my collar. It’s when I feel it. You saved and gave yourself to me last night because you felt it in here.” Bass pointed at Ryker’s

heart. “That I’m the one meant to dominate you forever. I want to bestow the same confidence in you that you have for me.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ryker was overwhelmed with emotion. There was a lump the size of Texas in his throat. He’d waited so long for this he thought he might as well give up. Especially after that fiasco in the members-only BDSM club. Now he’d found the most strikingly handsome, caring, sexy Dom that he’d ever seen…and he was a Master Dom too. Moisture pooled in his eyes threatening to spill over. His Master continued to hold him and stroke his back. When he pulled back he kissed Ryker’s moist eyes and pulled him into the steaming hot shower.

Ryker placed his Master’s strong arms up on the shower wall and spread his legs slightly apart and began to slowly and carefully wash his Master’s beautiful body from head to toe, trying to pour all of his gratitude into the gesture.

They shaved and brushed their teeth in the his-and-his sinks before moving to get dressed in his bedroom. Ryker knew he had another goofy-assed grin on his face. It all seemed so domestic…but welcome. They finished dressing and Ryker got down on his knees and tied his Master’s boots after placing a gentle kiss on each foot. It was clear his Master didn’t expect it, but still appreciated it immensely. He was rewarded with an extremely passionate kiss that left him breathless.

Still smiling he asked. “So where are we going, sir?”
Probably to a bank or
something.
Most Doms kept their collars in a safe deposit box. He was very curious about what the collar would look like. Every Master Dom designed it themselves and it was usually expensive, the equivalent of a woman getting an engagement ring.

“To my parent’s house in Williamsburg,” Bass replied and walked out of the room.

Ryker stood in complete shock. He must’ve been standing there for a while, because he felt Bass come up behind him and squeeze him lightly. He turned and saw his Master turn up a bottle of orange juice to his mouth, taking a long drink. Ryker followed the gesture, licking his lips in envy of the bottle, his cock hardening in response. Ryker realized he’d been caught

thinking dirty thoughts again when he saw the bottle drop back down to reveal Bass’s sensual smirk.

“Later, nasty boy. No time for that right now.” Bass grinned mischievously and reached between their bodies and gave Ryker’s hard dick a little swat with the back of his hand.

“Ummph.” Ryker smiled at his Master’s playfulness. Gosh, he loved this man so much already.

“Don’t worry so much about my parents. I told you that they live the lifestyle as well. I’m more than sure he will approve of you, beautiful.” He turned confidently to head to the front door. “Now move your sweet ass out the door.”

Chapter Nineteen

Max sat across from Angel at the small pub waiting for Mr. DeLucca’s military brothers. They’d been there the entire weekend, and Max had gotten along great with his man’s father. He’d immediately told Max that he could call him Isadore or Shot instead of Mr. DeLucca.

Angel and his dad looked so much alike that it was a little weird for Max.

Looking at his father was like looking at Angel in about twenty years. The man had aged well, and the years of martial arts training had done wonders for his body. If his man looked like that in even ten years he would still be deliciously fuckable.

“Hey, darlin’, what are you thinking about so hard over there? You look deep in thought.” Angel looked concerned.

“Ummm…nothing…just wondering how your dad’s friends are going to react to me.”

“What do you mean? They know how I feel about you. I just haven’t brought anyone home before. Besides, these guys helped my father raise me, they were around my entire life. They’re my uncles.”

“Not making me feel better, babe.” Max groaned and downed the last half of his draft beer in one gulp.

Angel let out a deep laugh. “Darlin’, relax. You were all worked up about meeting my dad and look how well you both got along right off the bat.”

Angel laughed. “I thought you two fools were gonna get us put out of that restaurant. I didn’t know you could be so damn obnoxious, Max.” Angel shook his head at Max’s wide grin.

Max laughed as he stroked Angel’s braid. “Well you shouldn’t be so fucking gorgeous, babe.”

Last night Angel’s dad decided to take them to one of the local favorite restaurants in downtown D.C. It wasn’t a stuffy atmosphere and it had great American food. It was the little lovestruck twenty-one-year-old waiter that had Angel’s father and Max misbehaving, terribly.

The waiter was obviously gay, and had been to Angel’s club frequently.

He recognized Angel immediately. Every time the waiter came to their table,

whether to drop off something or check on them, the prominent boner in his thin uniform pants was right at their eye level. Angel’s dad and Max didn’t even pretend they didn’t notice.

They teased the waiter mercilessly. “Go to the bathroom and yank it out real quick, and then come back, we’re willing to wait.” Max said. “You’ll feel much better once it’s out.”

“Snap a picture of Angel with my phone and use that if it makes it better,” his father said. Angel was humiliated and felt even worse for the young man. Anytime the boy thought he may have his little problem under control he would hear the deep growl of Angel’s voice, and…surprise…there was mister winky again.

When the boy came to pick up their check his face was still beet red. Max pretended he couldn’t find his wallet, making the young man stand at the table and wait for almost five minutes. The whole time Max so-called searched for his wallet, he stroked Angel’s braid very seductively in front of him, making the front of the boy’s pants tent up even higher. When a small wet spot appeared suddenly in the boy’s pants, Angel’s father and Max burst out laughing, causing the manager to come over. Max never told the manager why they were laughing. He just dropped a fifty-dollar tip for the boy and left the restaurant, joking about it the whole way back to his father’s house.

“We’re gonna have a great time tonight too,” Angel continued, bringing Max back to the present.

“Sure.” Max tried to relax and took a couple of deep breaths. He turned to signal the bartender for another draft and saw Angel’s father come through the heavy wooden door of the pub flanked by six intense men walking with determined focus.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Damn, why the hel are they looking so mad? Maybe I should
stand.

Max scrambled off the barstool and almost knocked his empty glass off the bar. The bartender swiftly scooped up the glass and gave him an exasperated look. Max ignored him and focused his attention on the posse heading his way. He tried to put an inviting smile on his face but he had a feeling that he more than likely looked constipated.

The man standing next to Angel’s father shook Angel’s hand while giving him a one-armed hug. “Well, well, well. Look at you. You look like a million bucks, Angie. Your father’s been keeping us updated on all your success in the beach. Damn proud of you, boy.” The man’s keen eyes turned from Angel and focused on Max. “And what do you got yourself here, Angie?”

Angel let out a deep chuckle and returned the warm gesture. “Good to see you again, sir. This is my boyfriend Maximus Strong. Max, this is one of my father’s friends and partner in crime, Joseph Demere.” Angel looked very proud to introduce Max as his boyfriend.

The built gentleman took Max’s hand in firm grip and gave it a couple of good pumps.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Demere, Angel’s—”

“Hey none of that mister shit,” he interrupted. “Call me Shade. Everyone that’s not on my shit list calls me that…so by all means.”

“Sure, Shade it is.” Max tried to appear confident even though his insides were doing somersaults.
Pul it together, you have every right to be with a man like
Angel.
Shade’s smile was warm and genuine. He could tell the man could use his height and build to intimidate the hell out of someone if he wanted to.

Standing beside Angel’s father they looked like they could tear this whole pub to rubble. Shade’s brown-and-gray hair was cut close around his temples and was slightly longer on top. He was a very handsome man in a regal sort of way.

“So what do you do Max…besides my Angie over here?” Shade gave a deep gut laugh. Angel gave a snort of laughter and so did his father, but the other uncles didn’t join in. Max’s ears and neck were burning. He knew he was as crimson as the Virginia Tech emblem on his T-shirt. Max had only been gay for a couple of months, he wasn’t comfortable talking about man-on-man fucking in a room full of Seals.

“I’m a firefighter, sir,” Max responded and took a nervous drink of Angel’s beer that sat neglected on the bar. Max couldn’t help but avert his eyes to the others standing close by that had yet to step up and introduce themselves. Instead they just glared menacingly in his direction.

“Actually, Max just finished his degree and was promoted to sergeant about a month ago,” Angel boasted, letting his hand settle on Max’s back.

Max could tell Angel was trying to calm him and maybe bring his face back to its normal color.

“Well ain’t that something…good for you, son!” Shade shook Max’s hand again and turned him to face the other men. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the squad.” He put his large hand on Max’s shoulder and ushered him up to the group. He could still feel Angel’s supportive presence at his back. Shade began pointing out everyone and telling him their names and the Seal names they went by.

“This redheaded gentleman is Paddy O’Donnell, we call him Lucky.

Here we have the man that always has a plan. John Marion, Seal name Call.”

Call gave him a lazy salute and continued scrolling the stylus around on his large and very expensive looking smart phone that Max had never seen in any store.

Shade pointed to the backs of the others. “These three lushes that are already ordering drinks are Markus Stern, goes by Toad.” Shade pointed again. “Dominick Strayhand, call sign Viper. Last but certainly not least, this intense-looking man with the tattooed sleeves and multicolored eyes. I give you Dane Aramis…call sign Hawk.” They all laid judging eyes on him, but only Lucky spoke up with his strong Irish accent.

“’Ello mate, heard lots about ya. Ey, Hawk…didn’t ya say dat was Angie’s guy, saved da young lad in that fire, aye. Did a real comfy piece in da paper a couple weeks ago on’em…dat was you, aye?”

Max struggled to understand everything the man was saying, his accent was so pronounced. He was short and thin, but his arms and legs were toned.

His red hair had some type of product in it to make it spiky. Max nodded to his question and grasped the man’s small hand in a firm shake.

“Well, let’s get a good gander at ya, mate.”

Lucky didn’t move, but Hawk circled him. He looked him up and down and came back to Max’s front and center and stared down into his eyes.

Hawk’s long, brownish-blond hair was pulled back off his forehead with a black elastic band. Max had to tilt his head up to look into the man’s eyes

that were just a few inches from his face. His natural instinct was to back up and get the man out of his personal space. He fought through that feeling and locked in, knowing this was one of their tests. Ryker told him to be ready to accept and win any challenge they dished out. Max bored into Hawk’s eyes and was almost put into a trance.

Holy shit! His eyes have to be at least four different colors. Sit still, don’t even blink.

If this motherfucker wants a visual standoff, then dammit that’s what he’l get.

Hawk’s pupils seemed to dilate and shrink to pinpoints at his conscious command.
Cool trick.
Max could feel the other men’s eyes on his back. He was uncomfortably aware of the now complete silence all around them. He didn’t dare budge. His face was like a stone. He absolutely would not turn first. Hawk’s retinas were a light hazel with green, gold and …
what the hel ? Is
that purple-colored flecks dancing around?

Even though Max wouldn’t look in Angel’s direction he knew his man’s dark gaze was on him as well. Their standoff felt like an hour but was probably more like sixty seconds. Then, as coolly as he pleased, Hawk swept his eyes in Angel’s direction and spoke in a deep rich voice.

“Your guy’s all right, Angie.” He didn’t smile, he simply looked at Max and extended his hand. “They call me Hawk because I see all.”

Max released a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding.

“Cheers, mate…good to know ya.” Lucky grinned.

Everyone went back to their drinks and conversation as if a truce was called. Max felt strong arms come around his waist, and he felt empowered from the small victory but remained composed.

“Well done, darlin’. Not many people can hold Hawk’s gaze. My father said he was blessed with sight and perception by a witch in the Quimbanda Village, when he saved the woman’s daughter from being raped by rebel insurgents.”

Max looked at Angel in disbelief.

Angel shrugged off Max’s skeptical look. “Baby, I don’t know how true it is. However, the team swears the purple in his eyes were not there before, and no one can explain why Hawk sees what he does.” Angel leaned in and kissed the center of Max’s neck that was exposed above his V-neck T-shirt.