Steve had every right to kiss Shea.
And Zach had every right to go out on his own. He didn’t need anyone’s permission.
He climbed back into his car and turned the key. It had been too long. Hardcore was calling his name.
The underground space was bathed in an eerie, red glow, the odor of sweat, perfume and desire heavy in the air. Several of the scene stations were already occupied by leather-clad Doms and nearly naked subs. Whips cracked, women moaned, men grunted. Zach turned to glance reflexively toward Steve, to reach for Shea, but he was alone.
He wasn’t dressed for the scene, still in his work shirt and jeans, the scent of leather oil on his fingers. He had no gear bag and no particular agenda, except to be away from the house where Steve and Shea were probably at this very moment making love.
“Hey there, stranger. Long time no see. I was hoping I’d get lucky tonight.”
Zach looked down to see Megan Landry, a one-time casual lover he used to play with in the scene. “Oh, hey there, Megan. I didn’t know you were back in Portland.”
They embraced. She still looked good—blond, petite and slender, dressed for the night in a red leather mini skirt and matching vest that barely covered her small, high breasts, very tall stiletto heels on her feet. Her only flaw was pockmarked skin, ravaged from teenage acne, but mostly covered by the heavy makeup she wore at all times, even in bed.
“Just for the week visiting family. I can take them for about twenty-four hours before I remember why I moved to California. I was barely off the plane before my mom reminded me I wasn’t getting any younger and started demanding to know when I planned to get married and give her grandbabies. Then there’s my annoying, live-in-the-basement-and-sponge-off-mom-and-dad-forever brother with his million reasons why the world is out to get him. I had to get out of there before I went postal on someone.”
Zach laughed. He’d forgotten how funny Megan could be. He glanced around the club and then looked back at Megan. “I don’t have any of my gear with me, but if you wanted to do a scene, maybe…?”
Even as he said it, a small barb of guilt pierced his gut.
Then the memory of that kiss—that passionate, excluding kiss—resurfaced from where it had been lurking in his mind, and he yanked the barb free and tossed it aside. He was his own man. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted.
“We can borrow something from the club rack,” Megan said. “I could really use a good, cleansing whipping after the year, uh, I mean the week I’ve spent at my parents’.”
They moved together toward the whip rack the club provided for people who didn’t bring their own gear. “Aw,” Megan said in a whining tone. “No canes left. No single tails. Shit.” She chose a red flogger with a long, fat handle and handed it to Zach. The handle was poorly balanced, the throws made of cheap, hard leather, but it was better than nothing.
Megan led him toward a free station near the entrance of the club. The station contained a St. Andrew’s cross with cuffs attached, the wood rubbed smooth from usage and darkened with sweat. As always happened for any public scene at Hardcore, people began to gather along the edges of the station mat to watch the action. Most of them were single men with that hungry, slack-jawed look they probably wore when they were home alone at their computers, searching for free porn to jack off to.
Ignoring them, Zach watched as Megan unzipped her mini skirt and edged it down her slender legs. She wore a thong beneath it, and her lower back and ass were covered in ink. At first glance, it was just a mass of red, black and blue, but as he stared at it, he saw it was an elaborate tattoo of blue roses entwined with thorn-covered vines, droplets of bright red blood dripping from each thorn.
“Whoa,” Zach said, “that’s a lot of ink. When did you get that?”
“My Dom is a tattoo artist,” Megan said with evident pride as she craned her head to regard her small ass. “He’s going to cover my entire body with ink. I get a real rush from the pain. Isn’t it fucking amazing?”
“Uh, yeah. Really great,” Zach managed, though in fact he found it way overdone.
Megan took off her vest and stepped up to the cross, lifting her arms so Zach could buckle her into the wrist cuffs. He set the flogger down on the mat. She spread her legs as Zach crouched behind her to cuff her ankles into place. She wore a strong perfume, something spicy that tickled his nose. Zach suddenly missed Shea’s subtle vanilla scent with an ache that actually made him catch his breath. What was he doing there?
Giving them space.
After all, he was the one who had resisted the romance, who claimed he didn’t want to be tied down, who liked to keep his options open…
He stood and picked up the crappy flogger. The men crowding him shuffled back a little as he took up his position behind Megan. He thought about Shea that first night they’d seen her sitting on the sofa, leaning forward with such yearning on her face, such longing…
Before he realized what he was doing, he turned back to that same sofa, as if Shea might be there now, watching him with those lovely, gold-rimmed blue eyes.
Instead, a couple was making out on one end of the couch, the woman perched on the man’s lap, both of them stuffed into cheap-looking leather outfits several sizes too small. On the other end, two guys were leaning in to one another, their thighs touching, their hands on each other’s crotches.
“I’m ready, babe,” Megan called out. “Any time this week would be good.”
He turned back to the cross. “Oh, sorry.”
You should be with Shea and Steve, not here with this woman you used to know, surrounded by strangers. What are you doing here? Go home.
“What’s your safeword?” he asked automatically.
“You don’t remember? I’m crushed,” she replied in a teasing tone.
“Uh…” Zach tried to recall what it might be, but only Shea’s funny, fancy chemistry term came to mind—zirconium.
“It’s rosebud,” Megan supplied. “Not that I’ll need it with that shitty little flogger. You know I like it rough. The harder the better.”
He swished the cheap leather tresses over Megan’s ass and back, trying to get into a rhythm. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Maybe they were done fucking now and had finally realized he hadn’t come home yet.
He hit Megan harder, whipping the leather tresses in a stinging arc over her back and shoulders. She moaned her approval. “More, baby,” she urged. “More, more, more.”
He struck her with force, putting his muscle into it so her body was pushed hard against the cross. The tresses left long, red marks along her narrow back. She yelped but then thrust her ass out, the invitation clear.
The men swayed and murmured behind him, their presence unwelcome. He turned briefly to glare at them, and they took a collective step back, their eyes fixed on the bound, nearly naked girl, their hands hovering on or near their crotches.
Blocking them out as best he could, Zach whipped Megan’s thin little body, covering her ass, back and thighs with a whirlwind of flying red leather. If he just focused on the scene, on giving this girl what she needed, on letting the process clear his mind, he could deal with whatever it was that was tearing at his gut. He could keep his own pain at bay.
It didn’t work.
As vividly as if they were standing in front of him, Zach saw Shea’s arms circling Steve’s neck as Steve lifted her into his arms.
“Do it, baby. Take me all the way,” Megan cried in a hoarse voice as she gyrated her pelvis against the wooden cross.
Zach bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from shouting as the sharp memory of Steve and Shea locked in their lovers’ embrace, kissing with a passion from which he was excluded looped around and around in his head, tightening with each repetition like a noose around his heart.
What a jerk I’ve been to think this relationship thing could possibly work. What the hell was I thinking all this time? I’m not cut out for this shit. Better they should be alone.
“Rosebud, rose
bud, rosebud!”
The repeated word finally penetrated the fog of his misery at the same moment a large, heavy hand clamped his shoulder. “Dude, I think that’s her safeword.”
Zach whipped his head in the direction of the deep, gravelly voice he knew so well. Taggart Fitzgerald stood beside him, his hand still on Zach’s shoulder.
Shock ricocheted through Zach’s body. He dropped the flogger as if it were on fire. “Oh, shit,” he breathed, appalled that he’d made Megan use her safeword. “Fuck.”
Megan’s back was a deep crimson red, her tattooed ass mottled with bruises that were already forming, welts visible on the backs of her thighs. She was whimpering, her hands clenched into fists, her entire body shaking.
Zach leaped forward and jerked away the Velcro bindings on her wrists and ankles. As she fell back, he turned the shaking girl gently toward him and pulled her into a light embrace, careful not to hurt her any more than he already had. “I’m so sorry, Megan,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far.”
Pulling back, she looked up at him. Tear tracks ran through her thick makeup, smudges of mascara beneath her eyes, her lipstick smeared over the cheek that had been resting against the wood. But instead of the angry reproach he expected and deserved, her mouth lifted into a broad grin. “No apologies necessary, babe,” she said breathlessly. “That was the best beating I’ve had in months. I don’t know why I wimped out at the end.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. “Let’s do it again!”
“I think you’ve had enough, young lady,” Taggart said, stepping forward as the hangers-on wandered away to find more action. He turned to Zach. “You okay, man? Steve texted me a while back asking if you were still at work. I texted you, too. You aren’t answering anyone’s texts. What’s going on?”
“Who is this gorgeous hunk of pure, raw manhood?” Megan chirped, inserting herself between the two of them. She cupped her bare breasts and winked at Tag. “I still have one side that needs heating.”
“This is the Leather Master,” a low, feminine voice Zach recognized as Rylee Miller, replied, appearing just beside her man and placing her hand on his arm in a gesture that clearly said He’s mine. “You okay?” she said, flashing Zach a worried gaze.
He shrugged. “Sure.” Though he wasn’t. He’d just ignored someone’s safeword. That had never, ever happened to him before.
“Oh,” Megan said, fixing Rylee with a sharp, appraising gaze and then taking a step back. “I see.” She gave a small shrug, as if acknowledging defeat. “I’m Megan Landry. An old friend of Zach’s.”
“Looks like you could use some aftercare,” Taggart said to Megan as he looked her over. He dipped his head so his mouth was close to Rylee’s ear and murmured something, then, adding in a louder voice, “Rylee, sweetheart, could you take care of Megan while Zach and I talk a minute?”
“Sure,” Rylee replied, giving Zach another concerned look before turning to Megan. “If that works for you, Megan?”
Megan gave Tag a last, lingering gaze, and then shrugged and nodded. “Thanks, Zach. I’m going to have some yummy bruises to make my guy jealous.” She bent and retrieved her clothing.
As the two girls walked toward one of the aftercare stations, Taggart led Zach to a table in the bar area. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
Zach, still dazed, sat as Taggart went to the bar. He returned a moment later with a cold bottle. Zach accepted it, twisted off the cap and drank the whole thing down in one long gulp.
Tag put his hand on Zach’s arm. “What’s going on, Zach? Why are you here alone, especially on the night Shea’s coming home? How come they don’t know where you are?”
“Because I lied, okay?” Zach spat bitterly. “When you asked how everything is going and I said great, I was lying to us both. I’ve been feeling weird lately about this whole ménage thing, about this whole relationship thing, but I’ve been pushing it down, trying to tell myself it’s all okay, and everything’s great.”
Zach pressed his lips together to keep from saying too much. Surely Tag didn’t want to hear all this.
“But…” Tag finally urged. “It’s not great? What happened?”
“That third wheel thing, that’s what happened,” Zach blurted. “You said it yourself earlier today, and I tried to pretend it wasn’t an issue. Then I got home and saw the two of them.”
Tag shook his head. “I’m not following. What do you mean you saw the two of them? Of course, you saw them—they live there. Steve went to fetch Shea at the airport.”
“I saw them kissing.”
Tag continued to look puzzled.
“Not just kissing,” Zach elaborated. “I mean, they were really kissing, like in the movies, you know? Like they were madly, crazy in love. I’ve never kissed Shea like that. Shit, I’ve barely kissed her at all. I don’t really do kissing, you know? I mean it’s so…it’s so…” He struggled for the word.
“Intimate?” Tag suggested.
“Yeah,” Zach agreed.
Why hadn’t he kissed Shea more often? And if he really didn’t want to be in a relationship, why had seeing the two of them locked together torn something loose inside him?
“You should text them or call, Zach. Let them know you’re okay.”
Zach shook his head, a fresh wave of anguished self-pity assailing him. “I doubt they even know I’m not there. That’s how into each other they were. They’re probably both asleep after their great sex, all wrapped up in each other’s arms.”
Tag shook his head slowly and then, to Zach’s astonishment, began to laugh.
“What?” Zach demanded. “What the fuck’s funny about that? About any of this?”
Still laughing, Tag said, “Remember when I said I nearly lost Rylee?”
“Yeah,” Zach said, still not getting what Tag thought was so hilarious about his life falling down around his ears.
“I had issues. I honestly believed I was broken, damaged goods, and that I had to let Rylee go. I was giving her the sob speech about how fucked up I was and how it would never work, and you know what she said to me?”
“What?” Zach said, forgetting his own problems for a moment. Tag, normally pretty reserved, had never shared anything so personal with him before.
Still grinning, Tag said, “My sweet, submissive girlfriend put her hands on her hips and said that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. She basically told me to get over it. To be a man and face what might be the scariest thing people like you and me have to deal with.”
“Which is…?”
“Feelings, Zach. It’s scary to have real feelings for someone. I haven’t known you all that long, but I knew you before you met Shea and I know you now, and you’ve become a different person, both you and Steve have. It’s like she was the spark, the thing that brought you both to life. Don’t fuck that up, Zach, just because you saw them kissing after they’d been apart for a few days.”
Tag leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “Look, I get it—it’s a huge risk to take, the risk that you might love someone who doesn’t love you back, or doesn’t love you precisely the way you think they should. It’s got to be even tougher when it’s three instead of just two, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for. Trust me, Zach, if you can get past that fear, there’s a whole wonderful world waiting for you. Waiting at home with Steve and Shea; waiting for you, if you can find the courage to reach for it.”
The sweet, welcome scent of vanilla wafted suddenly beneath Zach’s nose as Tag leaned back and smiled, his gaze fixed just past Zach’s shoulder. A moment later, Steve said from behind him, “There you are, Zach. Why didn’t you answer your texts? You had us worried sick.”
“Thank goodness Rylee texted me,” Shea said, appearing now in his line of vision, her pretty face a mask of concern. “We were about to start calling the hospital emergency rooms.”
Zach pushed back from his chair and stood, turning to face the two people he cared most abou
t in the world. Without another word, they enfolded him in their arms.
Chapter 12
“We missed you,” Shea said as they released each other. She searched Zach’s face with worried eyes. “You gave us a scare.”
“I’m sorry,” Zach said, and he meant it. It was as if he’d just awakened from a nightmare. He felt disoriented but glad to be back.
Rylee had returned and stood beside Tag at the table.
“Is Megan okay?” Zach asked, ashamed of how he’d bungled the scene, of how he’d used Megan to escape his own pain.
“She’s fine,” Rylee said with a grin. “She’s already found someone else to scene with at the wax station.”
Tag got to his feet and put his arm around Rylee. “We’ll leave you three to it. I’m sure Zach has some stuff he needs to say.” He looked meaningfully at Zach.
Zach nodded as he tried to harness and control the jumble of feelings knocking around inside him. He managed to smile as he said, “Thanks, guys, for having my back. I’m not sure what the fuck I was doing.”
“Nobody ever said this relationship stuff was easy,” Rylee said with a kind smile.
“But it’s definitely worth it,” Tag added.
After the couple drifted away to enjoy a scene of their own, the three of them sat at the table. Shea was the first to speak. “What happened, Zach? What made you run away like that?”
Zach glanced from Shea to Steve, his heart twisting at the memory of their passionate kiss. A part of him wanted to lie—to say he didn’t know—but it had to be faced. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen what he’d seen. Girding himself, he blurted, “When I came home tonight, I saw you guys kissing. I know you’re in love with each other.”
To his shock, Shea smiled, while Steve actually chuckled and said, “Well, duh.”
“So, you admit it,” Zach said breathlessly, his heart contracting painfully in his chest.
“Of course we admit it, you dope,” Steve said, the laugh still in his voice.
Shea said, “We didn’t realize you were there, Zach.”