Nic rocked his hips with the rhythm, riding back on Cam’s hand and fighting to keep the tension in his arms.He had to.Otherwise, he’d tip this end barrel and the others would go rolling off their racks as well.Dominos.Like the senses connecting his body to his heart, falling at the smell of them wafting together with the beer, the hot heat of bodies and sweat against the cool air, the sound of Cam getting him ready, the feel of his fingers inside him, the expectation of more.“Please, Cameron.”
“Yeah, baby, you’re ready.”
Cam’s hand disappeared, replaced by something infinitely better, cock stretching him wider and filling him full.Pain gave way to pleasure and Nic hung his head, groaning in satisfaction.Cam’s echo of the same boomed behind him.A slick hand landed on Nic’s left hip where it belonged, as Cam guided him, picked their rhythm back up, then played it faster, going harder.This wasn’t one of those fucks where they nipped and kissed and savored the connection.This was action, just like Nic had wanted tonight.
In control of their actions, their world, together.The both of them racing ahead after two days of clearing roadblocks, work and otherwise.
“Why haven’t we done this before?”Cam asked between grunts.
“Done what?”
“Fucked back here in the distillery.”
“Didn’t have the barrels before.”
Cam reached around, grabbing Nic’s dick with his warm, slick hand.“Then I’m even more excited about my beer.”He bit his shoulder and Nic had to fight again not to collapse.“Hope it’s a regular feature.”
Nic laid a hand over Cam’s other one on his hip, their fingers tangling.“I plan for it to be, for a long time.If you’d like that.”
He wasn’t just talking about the beer.
Cam followed, judging by his sharp inhale and the pounding in Nic’s ass that ratcheted up in intensity.Cam’s hand under his slid around his torso and up, until it softly circled his neck, angling his head around.
Dark, hooded eyes bored into his.Yeah, he got it.Cam’s answer was in his eyes, in his kiss, in the taste of love mixed with stout, and in the “Yes, I like,” he whispered in Nic’s ear as they came together.
Twelve
The next morning, Nic left Cam with a kiss on the sidewalk in front of the Federal Building.Cam had offered to accompany him to Dennis’s office but dealing with his father’s estate was a purely legal exercise.An exercise that hinged on the outcome of their case against Vaughn.Nic had asked Cam to spend his morning on the latter instead.That’s where Nic needed him most right now.
Hailing a cab, he slid in, gave the driver the intersection nearest Dennis’s office, then spent the drive down to Financial typing an email to Eddie, giving him notes on the FBI Stout while editing out the NSFW bits from last night.He squirmed in his seat, ass still sore and dick perking back up at the memory of how it got that way.Nic couldn’t wait for all this mess to be over, for the FBI Stout to be released, for more nights like last night.Years of them, he hoped, making love with Cam and making plans for their future.
A phantom tingling on his left hip reminded him of another plan he needed to make.He jotted off another quick email to his local tattoo artist, asking to schedule some sessions.It would be a nice surprise for Cam.He hit Send just as the cab reached its destination.
While most of the big law firms filled multiple floors in the downtown skyscrapers, the more specialized practices—defense, family, immigration, estate, the ones that had been in the city for decades—had long ago claimed the older, smaller buildings dotted among the metal giants.Holdouts mostly, owned by the law firm itself, local real estate companies, or by wealthy Bay Area families who’d invested in properties in San Francisco before it had become one of the most expensive places in the States.
Truth be told, Nic preferred the older buildings.They were architecturally distinct, inside and out.Old San Francisco at its finest, or at least those that had survived the earthquakes and fires.He entered a two-story building with brownish-red masonry work, hand-carved crenellations, and an arched doorway trimmed in patina brass.Bypassing the older-than-time elevator, Nic scaled the stairs to the second floor of office suites.
Dennis’s had the best view, away from the street and overlooking the green space between buildings in the back.
The receptionist greeted him kindly and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the waiting room chairs.Through the glass wall, Nic spotted Dennis at the head of the conference room table, speaking with a woman whose back was to Nic.She had silvery white hair, thick and beautiful, and beside her was a younger woman with blond hair who he guessed was her daughter.On the other side of the daughter, back ramrod straight, sat a Marine.An officer.The black-and-blue uniform was a dead giveaway as was the man’s high and tight crew cut and the black-and-white cover on the table, its gold insignia ornament and gold-and-red rope visible above the brim.The woman’s son, he presumed, and the cup across the table probably belonged to their other parent, up from the table to use the restroom maybe.A family here to get their estate in order.
“Dominic.”
Nic startled at Mary’s voice, not expecting her here.She appeared out of the hallway that led to the restrooms, drying her hands.The cup on the table was Mary’s?But those weren’t her?—
He looked back to the conference room at the same time the officer—the major, a gold leaf shining on his shoulder—rotated in his chair.Nic glanced from his shoulder to his face, and if he hadn’t been seated, his ass would have hit the floor, the crumbling foundation of his world that had only recently been shored up blown to bits.
The major stood, headed for the conference room door.He looked and moved like a distilled version of the boy Nic had fallen in love with decades ago.
Gone was the slot receiver with crackling energy and shaggy chestnut hair.In his place stood a compact fighting machine.There was no other way to describe this man.Bearing rigid, movements efficient, a hard, combat-honed body the uniform did nothing to hide—solid arms and broad shoulders, a cut torso that led to a trim waist, and muscled legs that strained the seams of his navy dress pants.
But those eyes.While his body had filled out and changed, Garrett Scott’s eyes had not.Framed in long dark lashes, catching the morning sun reflecting off the glass, the every-color hazel shimmered and Nic was as captivated now as he had been as a teen.
“Dominic,” Mary said from lower at his side, a few steps back.
The fact that he’d stood and moved toward the conference room snapped him out of his daze.Dennis was also up now, rushing past Garrett and over to him.
“What’s he doing here?”Nic asked low.
