Not once.
The swelling in his face is way down now and the bruises are starting to fade. I see the man Carter fell hard for and tried to protect.
Tried to nurture and love.
I grab him by the throat and kiss him again and he melts. “Soft and fluffy doesn’t work for you, does it?” I ask.
His gaze narrows. “No, Sir. I like it rough. I need it rough.”
“Good.” I turn and shove him onto the bed. “Then let’s step it up a little.”
* * * *
The next morning, I free Eddie from the wrist manacles. By the tenth morning, I’m convinced I completely own him when I walk into the bedroom and, before I can say anything, Eddie climbs onto the bed on his hands and knees, drops his head onto the pillow, and presents his ass to me.
Plus, his cock’s hard.
“Good boy,” I hoarsely say before swallowing, because my mouth goes dry as every bit of blood and spit and a lot of other bodily fluids congeal in my rock-hard cock and swelling balls.
“Thank you, Sir,” comes his muffled reply. Just a hint of eager butt wiggle.
I’m no idiot. He sees me as a replacement for Carter.
Honestly? That’s fine.
What? I’m not going to lie and say I’m not attracted to the guy when I definitely am. I haven’t been this horny in a long damned time.
Too damned long.
I feel like a fricking teenager again, when I was first in the service and away from home and able to meet guys in dark and dirty back rooms and bathrooms in some of the seediest bars in Europe, before I had the bravery to go home with some of those men and properly spank and fuck them on a bed or on a couch, or, sometimes, in the back seat of a car.
Always as a Top. I’ve bottomed a couple of times, more out of curiosity and because the guy was incredibly hot, but it’s not my preference.
Eddie, however, is the perfect subby power bottom for me. Outside of the bedroom, he’s ruthless, cut-throat, and highly skilled.
Inside of the bedroom, he’s beautifully compliant and a puddle of pre-cum and need and tightly wound desire eager and able to mold himself to my every whim in his desperation to please me and seek my approval and praise.
How thefuckdid Carter walk away from him? I would have been using any and every trick in the book, including guilt-tripping Eddie, to force him to take the medical discharge the doctors wanted to give him and make him leave the Army with me.
I struggle with a brief flare of righteous anger toward my little brother, because he didn’t do Eddie any favors by not fighting harder for him.
Then again, they were both far younger men. I suppose I have no room to talk, considering here I am, approaching my sixth decade alive, and no one in my family even knows I’ve never so much as fingered a woman, much less fucked one. Been balls-deep inside more men than I can comfortably count, but while I made a show of dating in high school, I was always careful to pick girls who needed me as their beard as much as I needed them in return.
I unfasten my belt and slowly strip it from my jeans, making it last and making sure he can hear me do it. I take my time as I fist the buckle and wrap a few turns of the supple leather around my hand. It’s been used on plenty of men before now, more names and faces than I’m able to recall, but something is special this time.
This is the last man it will ever be used on. Not unless he dies on me, or I have to kill him because he’s betrays me.
Releasing Eddie is not an option, period. Not even once I’ve taken my revenge and can finally figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
It’s ironic that my little brother and I both have long-held grudges to settle before we can truly move on, and they both revolve around avenging this man kneeling on my bed.
I mean, mine also involves my brothers, but you get the idea. There’s a nice symmetry to it. Especially considering Elsa Pfeiffer and Coltrane Cunningham were linked in their despicable dealings and preying on young men too naïve to realize what was going on was outright abuse of their positions of trust and power, even if their victims were “consenting adults.”
Not to mention Cunningham’s sins extend far beyond that to negligent and careless homicide, even if he wasn’t and will never be charged with that.
I belt Eddie’s ass red and fuck him until we both come, and then we collapse into a tangled heap on the bed.
“Breakfast, pet?” I ask him.
