Page 298 of The Protective Gryphen

“What’s customary is a Marine will give his lover, woman, man, whatever, one of his dog tags. It signifies that person is taken. That they belong to the person with the other tag, but I don’t carry mine with me. They are at The Fort safe. So, I got you something to bind you to me with our contracts.”

“You want me to wear this?”

“It says it all, and shows I’m dead serious about this. Read the back.”

‘PROPERTY.’

“Because that’s what you are, Ian. You’re mine. Going forward, you need to know that you are loved, cherished, and protected. I’ll give everything for you in and out of bed, and I’ll protect the family we create.”

“Oh, my Lord, it’s gorgeous.”

This was his last chance to escape.

“Do you accept the contracts we’ve come up with?” he asked. “And know that you now belong to me?”

Ian nodded.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Taking it out of the box, he hung it around Ian’s neck, and it laid on his chest.

The second he saw it on his body, Gryphen knew it was safe to let that darker, more demanding part of him free.

“You’re my personal property in and out of bed,” he whispered, biting him on the neck.

It made Ian moan, and his body go liquid with need.

“Yes, please,” he murmured.

Gryphen kept whispering in his ear.

“If there was a way that I could show everyone, I would, but consider yourself taken.”

When he turned him around, he roughly pulled him into his body.

“And now, Mr. Patterson, we fuck until we can’t fuck anymore.”

He found his mouth, and he destroyed him with a kiss. Their tongues tangled, and Gryphen controlled that mating of mouths. When he broke it, he pulled off his sweater, tossed it on the floor.

“My Lord, can we christen the new kilt?”

Gryphen smiled.

“Oh, well, I can make that happen. Wait for me on your knees,” he said before walking away.

Ian pulled off his socks, dropped his pants, and couldn’t wait for the man he loved to find what he’d done for him.

Then, he got on his knees, and looked at the bathroom door.

When Gryphen came out, he was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing the red tartan plaid kilt.

Ian’s dick popped out the hole in the front of his boxers the second he saw his man.

“My Lord,” he whispered, his mouth watering to taste this man.

“I think you know what you need to do, Mr. Patterson, since you were lucky enough to get a second day with me.”

Oh, he was lucky.

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