Page 16 of Chained
“Thanks,” he said to the dog. “I needed that. And now I need a drink, a shower, and bed, in that order. Night.” The dog remained outside when Terry went in.
Edge wasn’t in Terry’s room, and the door to Edge’s room was closed. Maybe he’d taken advantage of an evening off and gone to bed early. It was stupid that Terry felt a pang of absence. The small fridge in his room held several bottles of water, and Terry emptied two before going into the bathroom. “You look like hell,” he told his reflection. Hair a mess, face flushed, eyes red. But at least there was life in his eyes—something most of Whitaker’s guests had seemed to lack.
Warm water over his skin, but not too hot. Oatmeal-almond soap that sudsed well. Shampoo to wash away the mousse. A few quick swipes with a thick towel. Then he tuned in a top-40 station on the stereo with the volume down low, turned out all the lights except the one on the nightstand, and climbed into the big bed. But he didn’t fall asleep. His mind had cleared, but his nerves still fizzed and popped with the residual drugs. He’d crash soon enough, though. All he had to do was wait.
He tilted his head back and stared at the light-and-shadow patterns on the ceiling, humming softly with Duran Duran.
Terry wasn’t surprised when the door to his room creaked slowly open and Edge crept inside. What stole his breath, however, was the fact that Edge was completely naked. And oh God, he was magnificent. He had a broad chest with pink nipples begging to be teased, eight-pack abs, and a trim waist. Below his navel, a narrow treasure trail lead to a nest of dark curls and a thick cock at half-mast.
“Jesus,” Terry groaned.
Edge gazed at him with eyes as dark as tar and as deep as the ocean. He ducked his head and chewed briefly on his lower lip, which made Terry envious—he wanted to be the one scraping that sweet bit of flesh with his teeth. Then Edge raised his head. “Do you want me?” His voice was even deeper than usual, and hoarse, as if he’d been shouting for hours.
Oh, dear God. “Yes.”
“Then fuck me. Please.” And Edge prowled toward the bed.
Chapter Seven
Edge had tried to be good, dammit. He’d sat there during the party and done nothing, watching the boss wind Brandt more tightly in his web. Edge’s jaw had ached to bite into the boss’s horrible friends. He was big and strong; he could have done a lot of damage before anybody stopped him. But he hadn’t, because he was the boss’s good dog.
But he hadn’t mentioned the gun, had he? Or his suspicion that Brandt was not who he was pretending to be. And although Edge had smelled the gun hidden behind the dresser in Brandt’s room, he hadn’t moved it. That… was not good.
He’d led Brandt back to the guest room as ordered. Good dog.
But when Brandt stripped and raced across the grounds, Edge had run along with him instead of herding him inside. Bad dog.
He’d shifted to man form while Brandt showered, and then he’d heard the music begin. Even heard Brandt humming quietly along. Still naked, Edge had stroked himself while imagining that the hand on his cock was Brandt’s, had grown erect in preparation for offering himself. He wasn’t sure whether that was good or not. Was he doing it because he’d been commanded to or because he yearned for Brandt to touch him? He didn’t know.
Not for the first time, he envied true dogs, who were unconcerned with complications such as these. A mastiff suffered no crises of identity, and as long as its immediate needs were met, it didn’t worry about its place in the world. It didn’t struggle with differentiating right from wrong and certainly not with the nuances in between.
Edge went to Brandt’s room, and Brandt seemed almost to be waiting for him. He sat bare-chested in bed, his lust so obvious that Edge could smell it.
With some difficulty, Edge found his voice. “Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Then fuck me. Please.” Without waiting for a response, Edge climbed onto the bed and positioned himself on all fours.
Brandt didn’t move at first, even though they were almost touching. Then he swallowed. “Are you one of the perks Mr. Whitaker mentioned?”
Edge didn’t want to lie, but the truth might make Brandt reject him. Edge turned his head to look at him. “Sometimes,” Edge finally admitted. Maybe that was vague enough.
Was thatpityin Brandt’s eyes? Edge didn’t want pity. He firmed his jaw and looked away, yet remained in place.
Brandt touched his back very gently, making Edge shiver. “You have bruises. How’d you get them?”
“Part of the job.” Another not-quite-lie. Maybe Brandt would believe they came from a particularly harsh training session.
“Edge.” Brandt’s voice was so firm Edge had to look at him. “What do youreallywant right now? ’Cause I thought you were kind of into me, and that’s awesome, but I won’t… not if you aren’t a hundred percent willing.”
Deep in his heart, Edgewaswilling, even if he couldn’t discern his motives. So this time he could tell the absolute truth. “I want you.”
That made Brandt briefly close his eyes and shudder. Then he tugged at Edge’s arm. “Lie down facing me? It’s been… a long time since I did this.”
“Why?”
“A busy life. Fear, I guess. Complications.”
