The Shepherd (The Game Series Book 6), page 22
He smirked into the kiss, giving me a seductive twist of his tongue around mine. “Be patient with me. I’m still processing this right here.”
I chuckled under my breath. Yeah, it was time to park the bulldozer in the garage.
“Sorry—I’m riding one hell of a high,” I admitted. “You’ve agreed to live here. As of five minutes ago, so did Archie. Shit’s finally coming together.” I kissed him quickly once more, then made my way to the fridge.
Sloan merely watched me with a pinch of amusement in his eyes.
Said eyes were warmer today. Warmer than they’d been in ages. I hoped it meant he could let go and take a breather. Stress and worry had never looked good on him.
After doing what I was supposed to, I jerked my head for Sloan to follow me, and I brought a pitcher of water, a dish towel, and a Coke with me outside.
Aw, pity. Archie had left the floor and put on his briefs and T-shirt. He ran a hand through his short hair and smiled at me, appearing equal parts impish and nervous. Maybe he’d seen Sloan through the living room window.
“Sweetheart, I want you to meet my best friend,” I said. “The one you and all the women in my family were right about. Sloan, Archie—sweetest Americanized Brit you’ll ever meet and now my slave.”
“I do enjoy being right, Master.” Archie shifted his smile to Sloan and extended his hand. “I feel like I already know you, but it’s an honor to meet you in person, Sir.”
Oh damn—that was a well-placed Sir. Out of respect, no doubt, but Sloan needed to be reminded that he was a Dom.
If I wasn’t mistaken, Sloan hadn’t expected the title; he had no reason to, though it didn’t hurt either. He squared his shoulders a little and shook Archie’s hand firmly.
“You too, Archie,” he replied. “Contrary to how I behaved last night, I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”
At Archie’s curious expression, I supplied helpful info.
“Sloan was jealous as fuck because he’s head over heels in love with me.” I extended the water pitcher and towel to Archie. “You can clean up your come shot, baby.”
This was fun. This was fucking perfect. Despite Sloan’s scowl.
My boy tossed me a brief, patient smile before he faced Sloan again. “I’m learning to tell my Master apart from the Sadist he also is. I understand he pushes buttons to provoke a reaction.”
I grinned and sat down in one of the chairs.
“I like you already.” Sloan’s words were for Archie, but his wry expression was for me.
I was just in love with the moment.
Half an hour or so later, life was even better.
“Do you want me to take her so you can eat, Sir?” Archie asked.
“Not even at all.” I was busy trying to make Kyla laugh. She bounced on my thigh and dared to let go of my shoulder every now and then; I bet it wouldn’t take more than a couple weeks before she took her first steps. “I can multitask.” I growled playfully against Kyla’s cheek before spooning up some mouthwateringly good stew. “See, when I boil potatoes, they come out like my pop can eat them without putting in his dentures.”
Sloan snorted in amusement. And I noted that he didn’t disagree with me.
“I didn’t boil these.” Archie was amused too. “I diced them, seared them, then threw them into the stew the last two minutes.”
Oh.
However he’d cooked them, they were fantastic.
“Huh.” Sloan sat back in the chair next to me and wiped his mouth. “Maybe you can teach me to cook better. My kids aren’t impressed.”
“Unless there’s a grill involved.” I felt the need to intervene. We weren’t completely useless. We made the best grilled cheese sandwiches too.
“I would love to.” Archie sat a little straighter and smiled to himself, visibly pleased. They were both relaxed now, and that certainly pleased me.
“Bam-bam!” Kyla babbled, cocking her head at me. “Bam-bam?”
“What’s a bam-bam, love? Huh?” I poked her chubby cheek.
“Isn’t that clear, Sir?” Archie grinned and rose from his seat. “She wants her tiger. I’ll be right back.”
Right, obviously. Bam-bam was tiger.
“Dada, bam-bam!” she yelled after Archie.
He hollered back from inside the house. “I’m fetching your bam-bam, darling!”
Nothing could wipe the grin off my mug. “One day, I’mma tell you how I won that tiger for your daddy. Because he was a lousy shot.”
Sloan leaned in and kissed my cheek.
I side-eyed him.
“Seems like it was just yesterday Jo was this age,” he murmured. He touched the baby girl’s cheek, to which she plopped down on my lap and started chewing on her foot. “She’s gonna love Kyla.”
Without a doubt. She still got mad sometimes that Loki was a boy.
“Do you miss these little ones?” I wondered.
He grinned and shook his head. “They’re cute as fuck, but I’ve been there four times. I’m good.”
I chuckled.
He dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “You were born to be a dad though, Shep. If you tell me one more time you’re too old, I’ll beat your ass.”
I snorted. He could try.
Then I turned serious, as I watched Kyla watch me with so much wonder in her blue eyes. “I don’t have an urge to be a biological dad. If I get to be there—if I get to be a part of your brood and Kyla’s upbringing, I’m happy.”
With that said, Archie seemed to want more, and I was hardly gonna say no.
I didn’t dare think that far, though. I reckoned even I had limits.
“Hey,” Sloan said quietly.
I turned to him, and he closed the distance and kissed me.
Would that ever get old? Christ, I was aware of how new this was; I wasn’t a stranger to a honeymoon phase. But I couldn’t imagine I’d see a day when I didn’t feel extremely grateful anymore.
“Bam-bam!”
I rumbled a laugh and broke from the kiss, and Archie reappeared with the stuffed animal.
“Here’s your bam-bam, Kyla.” Archie tossed her the little tiger, and she was pleased as punch. “Sloan, I was thinking. Since Greer is leaving us in a few hours, would you like to have dinner together and maybe dish about him?”
I could only smile at him. It meant more than I could say that he was making an effort.
But I could tell by Sloan’s apprehensive expression that I wasn’t gonna like his answer.
“I would,” he said, clearing his throat. “Unfortunately, I think it would be smarter if I went back to DC today. And before Greer flips his lid—” he offered me a look of warning “—it’s only because I have my kids tomorrow from noon, and then Carol, their mother, picks them up again on Monday.” He paused and seemed to wait me out, see if I had a response, but believe it or not, I could calm my tits every once in a while and hear him out first. “I propose we all have dinner together in town on Tuesday. It’ll give me a couple days to talk to Carol and…I don’t know, get my shit sorted.”
“Quit at the auto shop and start packing up your apartment.” I nodded soberly. Important shit. Thank fuck he had a month-to-month lease. “You’ll find a better job in Winchester in no time.”
Sloan humored me and squeezed my hand.
“Right. That.” He smirked and faced Archie again. “You mentioned Kyla had day care on Tuesday?”
“That’s right. Her last one in DC, I suppose.” Archie sent me a quick smile.
I liked where this was going. I could postpone my first evening, my first night, with these two together, as long as it meant they were giving up their crap in DC, be it apartments and bosses or day care.
Not that I was impatient or anything.
“Then how about lunch?” Sloan suggested. “We can exchange battle stories about this one.” He jerked his thumb at me.
Nice.
“I don’t have many to share yet, but I’d love to take notes on anything you can provide.” So Archie was definitely on board.
“You could also meet up to discuss everything you love about me.” I threw that out there and scraped the last of my food off the plate.
“I’m sure there will be some of that too, Owner.” Archie placated me with a smile I could only describe as mischievous.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You let me know if I should start calling you brat, boy.”
“Shush, I’m trying to make friends here,” he replied pointedly. “This is important.”
I snorted a laugh. It was impossible to pretend to be annoyed.
That night, I was a world away from a nice lunch on the porch with Archie and Sloan. Archie was at home with Kyla, tasked with expanding his profile in our online forum so he could start getting to know our members, and Sloan was in DC, building his case to Carol. Last time he’d texted me, he’d informed me he had spoken to Carol’s folks, who were still thankfully on his side and supported the idea of moving the kids to Winchester. They said the same thing I did; the kids needed a fresh start, particularly Jason and Jamie.
And I was…here, at the bottom of an old rock quarry, having spent the evening torturing brats, waiting for the night to be over. I mean, the Sadist in me loved putting brats through hell, or an obstacle course as it were, but this was the one component I’d had plenty of. I’d suffered no shortage of impact play over the years.
The screams of brats were deafening by the last station that I’d been the host of. I had beach sand and mud everywhere, it was dark, it was getting cold, I was wet from acting as a spotter in the little lake, and my arms were scratched up because brats tended to resist.
My mind was split. Half of me was at home with Archie, maybe watching a movie with him on the couch. Perhaps sharing a bottle of wine, making out, giving each other foot rubs… While the other side of me was very much present, albeit in a mechanical way. My heart wasn’t in it. I was vigilant about pain thresholds and limits, super focused on expressions and reactions, but I found no pleasure in their suffering tonight.
My station was structured simply. With brats standing in line at the beginning of the sandy beach, their faces contorted in the fluid glow from countless torches, a handful of Sadists were positioned in the sand to give the brats a solid beating. If they wanted the pain to cease, all they had to do was shout out their love and admiration for Sadists.
For some bizarre reason, that was difficult for several of them. Among them, Corey—but I was getting through to him. A friend of mine held the boy in place as I gave one of my favorite leather cat-o’-nine-tail whips a good workout. The end of every strand was knotted and smattered across Corey’s exposed back with force.
“Are you ready to surrender, pet?” I grunted and struck him again, to which he screamed out his protest.
“Fuuuck—no! Goddammit!”
I grinned and pulled my filthy T-shirt over my head to use it to wipe sweat off my forehead.
Sweat, mud, welts, scratches, and cuts had turned his back, ass, and thighs into a work of art.
I loved seeing marks on Corey. He brought out the Sadist in me more than most others could, for some reason.
After switching to a single-tail whip, I put some distance between us and made sure I had a wide berth to work with.
“Brace yourself, boy,” I warned.
Corey sucked in a hoarse breath.
My friend withdrew his fingers from Corey’s back, hitching them under Corey’s armpits instead.
I tested the whip a few times first, hitting the sand, which made it easier for me to predict how hard the tip would hit him. Then I took a few deep breaths and gripped the handle tightly, and I pulled back and lashed forward, the thick leather cracking through the air. With a forceful snap, the end made impact on Corey’s shoulder blade, and not a single sound left him, except for a choppy gasp.
I knew exactly what that pain did to him, and it felt as if my mind intertwined with his, becoming one. I envisioned the razor-sharp hurt hitting so hard that he didn’t know how to react at first—until it shattered and spread through him like wildfire. It was the kind of pain that squeezed your lungs and robbed you of the ability to breathe.
The pain that finally made this autistic boy cry.
Over and over, I struck his back before I moved south to the fleshy parts of his thighs. And he screamed and sobbed and thrashed in my buddy’s hold.
Surrender, little one.
“Please!” He wailed and let out the most heart-wrenching cry. “Hurts—it hurts so much, Sir! Please!”
“You know what to say, Corey. Or you can safewo—”
“Sadists always know best!” he screamed. Poor thing couldn’t stand still. Last time I saw someone move like that, it was Jamie doing the pee-pee dance.
I blew out a breath of relief and withdrew the whip, circling the leather around my arm. “I’mma need more than that, boy.” Come on, you can do it. I tossed the whip into one of the toy bags strewn about and approached him slowly.
He hiccupped around a sob. “Sadists are the best in the w-world. They make me cry when I can’t cry on my own.”
Fuck. Those words went straight to my ticker, along with a kick in the head. Exchanging a quick glance with the spotter, I stole Corey from him and picked him up in my arms. His legs went around my hips, and then I had him crying in my ear as I headed toward the water’s edge.
On the way, I snatched up an aftercare kit, a towelette, and a bottle of water.
“That’s a good boy.” I kissed the side of his head. “You did fuckin’ amazin’ today, you know that? Just let it all out, sweetheart.”
I found a wide rock and sat down on it, glad to be at least thirty or so feet away from the other Sadists and screaming brats. It was darker here too, offering a sliver of privacy. Hopefully, Marcus couldn’t even see us.
“Do you need more pain, Corey?” I murmured.
“I—not more, just…” He whimpered and wiped fruitlessly at his cheeks. “I don’t want it to be over yet, Sir.”
I understood him. Gathering him closer to me, I told him to rest his face on my shoulder while I cleaned his back. It would definitely prolong his suffering.
After soaking the little towel in water, I gently dabbed it along his spine, and I knew that was enough to cause the pain to flare up all over again.
“I wanna call you D-Dominus, please, Sir,” he sobbed.
I smiled and winced in sympathy—despite that the last thing he needed was sympathy. This was the emotional release he craved. Still. The uncontrollable crying got to me. I couldn’t help it.
“Of course you can call me that.” I pressed a kiss to his hair and rubbed the towel over his shoulders. “Did you have fun tonight?”
He sniffled and nodded. “So much. Daddy told me to go nuts.” He giggled through a fresh round of tears.
“Oh yeah?”
That didn’t sound like the Marcus I’d observed.
“Yeah,” he croaked, “since we’re leaving tomorrow for our vacation.”
Their what?
“You’re going away?” I glanced toward the others, or past them, up the beach, to where our audience was gathered.
“Yes, cuz Daddy’s got a job interview in Denver.”
Fuck. I didn’t know what bothered me more, that Marcus might flee the scene and take Corey with him, or that Corey was regressing in my arms right this moment. I felt him shift on my lap, getting more cuddly, and I heard it in his speech.
“We’re gonna spend two whole weeks there,” he announced.
I cleared my throat and opened the toiletry bag that held the aftercare items. “Would, uh…would you move with him if he got the job?” I grabbed the small bottle of aloe so I could apply it to his back.
“I think so. I mean, yeah. Daddy’s got to have me with him. He needs me.”
Motherfucker. How the hell could we get Corey away from Marcus if they moved halfway across the country?
I had to talk to River and Reese before they left tomorrow.
“I’m sleepy, Dominus.” Corey’s words came out sweet, drowsy, and thick with emotion. It was a wonder he wasn’t shivering from the cold. Then again, adrenaline, excitement, an evening of pushing limits and roughhousing, and now getting the release he’d needed… His mind had to be thoroughly fucked.
“Close your eyes and rest for a moment.” I pressed a kiss to his damp hair. “I’m just gonna put some lotion on your back and thighs, and then we need to get you warm.”
“I feel warm,” he whispered. Yet, his nose was cold when it touched my neck. “I like the way you do aftercare.”
That brought me comfort. But anger too. What kind of aftercare was he used to? Christ. I didn’t like this at all. Even less when I knew our time was running out. I estimated we had another twenty minutes, maybe, and then Marcus would take over.
I sighed and refocused. “I hope you don’t leave, little one,” I murmured.
“Mmm…” He shivered, half asleep. “Ouch,” he whimpered softly. “When are my tears gonna stop?”
“When you’re all out of them.” I rubbed the lotion over a couple thicker welts near his spine.
It all felt so fucking wrong. We couldn’t protect him if he was in goddamn Denver.
Now I missed Archie. I needed to vent and be comforted by his presence, his warmth, his commitment to me.
I was home at three in the morning. Thankfully, I’d showered in Mclean before driving home, so I spent a couple minutes with the dogs, let them out in the yard—because I was going to sleep in tomorrow—and then I headed straight to my bedroom, where I found Archie fast asleep.
I’d lost steam the past couple of hours, so the venting would have to wait.
After shedding my clothes, I crawled under the duvet and plastered myself to his soft, warm body. I squeezed him to me, kissed his shoulder, and felt him stir.
“You’re home, Owner,” he whispered groggily.
I hummed and breathed him in. “I missed you tonight. It’s the last major event I attend without you.”
If we couldn’t get a babysitter, I’d stay home too. Smaller events, fine. Or, actually—no, fuck that. If we couldn’t find a babysitter, at least I wanted Archie and Kyla in my cabin. With the door closed, it was basically another world from the rest of the property in Mclean. Nobody had to know, and Kyla was too young to know where the hell she was. My cabin might as well be out in the woods or in some touristy summer town somewhere. Nothing about it screamed “We’re into whips and chains here.”
