Page 14 of The Surrogate Omega, Part Two

Evander chuckles quietly as he buries his head into my hair. After pumping both of us dry, he releases our spent cocks and wraps both of his arms around me. We both stand there in the middle of his bedroom, me naked with my towel a crumpled mess on the floor, him still in his work attire with only his cock sticking out, standing in a puddle of our own cum.

Evander nudges me gently; a reminder Zoe had said something to me. Oh, right. “Um, yes. I’ll try.”

“Ok?” Zoe says, sounding confused. Was that not the appropriate answer? I don’t get to question it for long, though, because Zoe says her goodbyes and the phone clicks off.

As soon as he hears the familiar beep of the phone disconnecting, Evander grips the back of my neck and brings me into a bruising kiss.

I don’t know how long it lasts, but when we finally break apart, I’m seeing stars and gasping for breath. “Hello,” I gasp out, still trying to come back down to earth.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Evander kisses me again, this time much more sweetly.

I look down at the mess we made. “I’m messy, and I just showered.” I have no idea why I said that, but it’s the only thought I can manage right now. Evander successfully used pleasure to erase all the thoughts out of my head.

Evander looks at me so intensely, I can barely return his gaze. There are so many emotions swimming in his dark eyes that I am having a hard time making out what they are. Finally, he replies, “Well, that won’t do at all.”

He takes my hand and drags me back into the bathroom for my second shower in less than an hour. I’m not sure if it’s Evander’s intention or just a happy coincidence, but he somehow successfully gets me out of my head, and most of the nerves for tonight are gone.

EIGHT

Logan

My head is on a swivel as I stand in the middle of the atrium of the publishing building that Ev works in. Usually, I’m not one of those cops that are constantly on edge waiting for something to happen. Sure, I’m always aware of my surroundings and catalogue any detail I can, but that’s more second nature then me expecting some kind of disaster.

I don’t know what it is about this party that has me on high alert. Maybe because there’s just so many people crammed into this tight space and the alcohol is flowing. Those two things combined almost always equal disaster.

Or maybe it’s because I had another one of my cases transferred to the homicide unit today. That’s always rough and leaves me on edge. I know my solved cases record is good for my unit, and I have reunited many families. And as rewarding as those days are, there are others where my pile of unsolved cases, and those that become homicides, just seem like an insurmountable wall to climb. And for some reason, today, when I should be enjoying myself with my mates, my mind keeps reminding me of all the kids who won’t be home for Christmas this year. Two young boys who disappeared while riding bikes last year keep hopping to the front of my mind. I force myself to put their faces aside. There’s nothing I can do now, and it’s time to focus on my men.

The place is nice, and they sure know how to throw a party. It’s crazy to think about, but in all the years Ev has worked here, I’ve never actually been inside the building. And the building is fucking nice. I don’t know what I pictured, exactly, but it wasn’t a state-of-the-art, technologically advanced skyscraper with floor-to-ceiling windows in the middle of downtown Manhattan. It’s hard to understand why Ev prefers to work from home rather than this place. If the station looked like this, I’d never want to leave.

Most of the party is being held in the first-floor atrium, though I’m told there are some stations on the other floors as well. Whoever is in charge of decorations went all out. This looks straight out of a holiday special I used to watch on TV as a kid. There are two massive trees on either end of the space, both decked out to the nines. Like, I can’t stop fucking looking at these Christmas trees for some reason.

After Mom was gone, my dad never bothered with a tree or presents. I never got to leave cookies out for Santa or hang a stocking over the fireplace. I used to dread Christmas break every year. I knew I’d wake up on Christmas in a freezing home, no tree, no presents magically appearing. I was lucky when there was electricity and some stale cereal for me to eat for breakfast. While every other kid would be counting down the days till the last day of school, I’d just be counting the days till January 2nd when I’d be back. All Christmas break was for me was 10 days where I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to eat next and if today would finally be the day I found my dad dead, OD’d on drugs or alcohol on the stained carpet in our living room.

Things changed after I met Ev and Mr. C. I still remember the first Christmas I spent over at their home. I was too old to believe in Santa by then, if I ever did, but it still felt like magic when we woke up that morning and there were actual presents for me under the tree. I never expected for either of them to buy me anything, yet they both did. I even had a stocking. I never cried so hard in my life. To this day, Mr. C still puts up my stocking in his house every Christmas.

Maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with these damn trees. I’ve never bothered to decorate my own apartment, since I rarely spend Christmas in it, but even after we moved out, Ev and I always go back to Mr. C’s house one weekend day and help him decorate. We do the outside for him, while he does the inside, and then all three of us decorate the tree together. This year will be the first time Lake takes part in the tradition, and I can’t wait to share that with him.

These trees are nothing like the one at home though. That one is filled with colorful lights, this ridiculous rainbow garland that Ev found a few years ago at a secondhand shop and always insists on putting on the tree, and years and years worth of ornaments that have been collected from all of us. That tree is like a look back at the Cirillo family history, and I’m honored to be a part of it.

I finally drag my eyes away from the trees, noting all the other tasteful decorations, until they land on the food spread. My mouth waters involuntarily. Ev warned me not to eat beforehand, but sometimes I can’t help myself and I grabbed a sandwich on my way out of work this evening. That sandwich is long forgotten when I see the insane amount of food that’s left out for us. How much money does this publishing company make? I can’t even imagine how much they fork out to fund this thing. Every inch of the surfaces of three long tables is filled with trays of food. You can barely make out the gold and Christmas-red tablecloths underneath the trays. There seems to be everything, from traditional Christmas foods—turkey, ham, sweet and mashed potatoes, pies, green bean casseroles, and more—to a full table of Italian and another with Mexican food.Andthat’s not including another table full of desserts. Fuck. My stomach grumbles just looking at it.

I finally drag my eyes away from the scenery and back to my men. Gods, do they look sexy as hell. My dick jumps every time I look at them. Ev usually dresses more casually, but I fucking love when he cleans up. Today he’s wearing a slick black suit that fits him like a glove. His style shows through the bloodred dress shirt—he left a couple of the buttons undone and has no tie. A few of his chest and neck tattoos peek through, separating him from the countless other black suits that are filling the space. He has his hair slicked back and chose a smaller solid-black-metal gage today.

Nobody wears dress clothes like Lake does, and today is no exception. He’s wearing his Calvin Klein, navy-blue one today. It has this subtle plaid pattern that not everyone could pull off but works perfectly for Lake. He has it paired with a light-blue dress shirt and a gray tie. Nothing Christmassy about the thing, but for some reason, that turns me on even more. Lake also chose to slick back his hair today, and he shaved so there’s only the faintest hint of red stubble on his cheeks rather than his typical thicker beard.

Lake looks uncomfortable as hell, though, so I take his hand and step closer, allowing him to feel my body heat and support. He looks up at me and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I cup the back of his head and lean down for a kiss. I keep it PG, but Lake practically melts into me.

I dip my head down so we’re touching foreheads. “If you want to leave, Little Bird, you know Ev won’t be upset. We both understand these types of things make you uncomfortable.”

Ev is about three feet away from us, talking to one of his coworkers—I think he said his name is Zach—so he doesn’t hear mine and Lake’s conversation. Poor guy looks even more uncomfortable than Lake. He’s fidgeting like crazy, and his eyes keep bouncing around the room, even as Ev holds a conversation with him. He looks like he’s two seconds from bolting.

Lake purses his lips, like maybe he’s considering my offer, but he shakes his head. He starts to pull away, but I won’t let him. I know he still needs to be close right now, even if he doesn’t.

“No, I want to stay. At least for a little while. I’ll get used to it.”

“I’m so proud of you, Lake. If it gets to be too much, just say the word, ok?”

Lake smiles against my cheek. “I will.”

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