I roll away, and we both cringe at the squelch of sticky cum as we separate. “We need to shower this off, only I’m not sure my legs work yet,” I say as I run my fingers down Drake’s chest to his abdomen, swirling them through the now congealing happy trail. “Was that hard enough for you?” I’m only half joking; we don’t know each other’s kinks or wants. We don’t know much about each other at all, and that’s something that’s going to change, starting now.
“For vanilla sex, that was hot as fuck. You’ve got some strength to be able to hold me like that. I’m going to need to up my gym hours to be able to keep up with you.” He turns to face me, and I finally get to see what relaxed Drake looks like. Properly relaxed, away from his brothers and parents. The few times I’ve seen him with any of them, he’s like a guard dog, always making sure he’s watching them, keeping them safe. Even if there’s no danger, he’s a protector.
“I think working out together will be fun. I’m already looking forward to leg days.” The sight of Drake squatting and stretching his quads is going to be a good one.
His cheeks turn pink, and a shy smile starts to grow, making him look much younger than his twenty-nine years.“Um, is this us going into the start of something?” He ducks his gaze, as if he’s unsure of my reply.
“Drake, I think somewhere in the last fifteen minutes or so, you asked me to make you mine. I take that shit seriously, and hell yeah, we’re in this now.” I push up on my elbow so I can see him properly. “Drake, I’ve been waiting for you. As long as we’re on the same page, this is it. We’re an us.”
“Good, now kiss me.” Drake pulls my head to meet his.
“Are you a bossy bottom or a bit of a diva?” I ask when I move back. “We’re going to have to write lists of our wants and desires and our limits.”
“I can be demanding, but more when a scene is being planned. I like to get what I want out of them, but also make sure my Dom, you, get the same. As long as we like the same things, I can’t see a problem.”
“Like what.” I shift to face him, lying on my side again.
“Well, I like being restrained. I like hot wax, clamps, floggers and canes more than whips, although I’m not sure any of those is a good idea for a while. I like being watched but not shared. I don’t like blood, scat, or waterplay. I’ll leave the pissing on his sub to Saint. I don’t like being humiliated but love praise. I like to dress up and look pretty, but masculine. We can work on those details later. What about you?”
“Lucky for you, I, too, love to play with wax, and an audience is always good for that. I like gags and other toys, plugs, cock rings, and cages. That sort of thing. I do like some waterplay but can happily live without it. I like collars, leashes, and leather shorts. I like to show off my boy but only to show how proud I am. In other words, I think we’re going to be good together.”
He smiles, but from the look on his face, he knows his smile hasn’t worked on me. “I should tell you what happened.”
I nod. “Yeah, I’d like to hear it from you, if you’re ready. Your brothers and Memphis have hinted at it but never shared it. Which I understood and appreciated; this is your story.”
Then he takes a deep breath and starts to talk, from the beginning. I don’t think he embellishes or skips over anything; he just talks. And I listen, trying hard not to give away every emotion I’m feeling but can’t say. The sadness of knowing his mum didn’t come back for him, the pride when he tells me about his time in the army, and after, under Pilkington’s orders. The part about Rafe was hard to listen to; there’s more to hear about him, but it can wait for another time.
The time in the room with Rees is horrific, and Drake’s voice is gruff, full of pain. “I couldn’t believe it was him. That he had found me, then tortured me. I was just a little kid, and he hated me enough to hold onto that, to feed it over the years and turn him into a monster.”
“Why didn’t you report it? He should be in prison. He’s no better than Mansbridge,” I ask, fury roiling through me like lava.
“I dealt with him in a much better way than prison.” He smirks. “He’s probably back on the streets now. No home, no job, no money and on the sex offenders list. He has nowhere to go and nobody to help him.”
“You did all that?” I shake my head in disbelief, but his subsequent smile is one of pride. “You did all that? Christ, that’s frightening.” I let out a dry chuckle.
“I’ve been told that one or two times before. I think we can forget about him now, don’t you?”
He smiles, and it’s a full one now, no shyness, or hesitation. So, shower?”
“Lead the way. Just this once,” I say with a wink.
It’s Wednesday, three days since Finn entered my life again—and my bed. He’s been here every night, and while we haven’t spoken about keeping this from anyone, we also haven’t said anything. It’s nice keeping this quiet; we’ve talked about so much of our lives. Telling him about my past has been uplifting. I feel so much lighter, more carefree, something I’m not used to feeling. I’ve changed since saying goodbye to Rafe, officially leaving my past behind with Pilkington, and looking at a new future is exciting.
“Why haven’t you got any tattoos?” Finn asks. We’re stretched out on my sofa, both bare chested and only wearing sweatpants, mine grey and Finn’s black. My back is to his chest, and his fingers are trailing up and down my arm, tracing patterns that aren’t there.
“It wasn’t a good idea, too recognisable, memorable. I had to be able to blend in; most people won’t recall seeing me if I just look ‘normal’. If I had a distinctive tattoo, I’d be remembered, picked out in a crowd.”
“I can’t believe you were a spy,” he chuckles and places a kiss just blow my ear, and I shiver at the tender touch. Of course, he notices and chuckles, his warm breath brushing over skin. “I love how you react to me,” he murmurs and kisses me again.
“Spy makes it sound much more exciting than it was. I was used for a lot of surveillance work; I speak a few languages that are useful now. Lots of sitting around, listening.”
“Wow. Does your family know?” It’s my turn to chuckle at his reaction. I twist around so I’m facing him, hooking my leg over his hip. He smiles and grabs my arse.
“Not as much as you do.” It’s true. I’ve never wanted to make them worry more than they do already. “I trust you with more than my body,” I tell him truthfully. His eyes darken as his lips part.
“Thank you,” he whispers, then leans in to claim my mouth. As his hands tangle in my hair, tugging me in closer, I grind my hips into his. Our cocks plump up and harden, and even though we’ve fucked already this evening, I know I want him again. “How sore are you?”
“I’m good to go; a little pain can make it more intense.” I smile and hook my fingers into my waistband to push my sweats down.
