Page 4 of Devoted Sinner

“What are your thoughts on corsets?”

King blinked. “What?”

“Corsets,” Bryson repeated. “You said clothing isn’t gendered, and it got me to thinking. A few things feel gendered—like bras and corsets.”

To his delight, King didn’t bow out of the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of extremely stunning men wear bras and corsets.”

Bryson nodded, intentionally looking thoughtful. “Good to know. We’ll look at corsets after dinner.”

King shook his head, but a sexy smile played on his lips as he went back to keeping an eye out for danger. One of these days, Bryson would crack him. It was only a matter of time.

Chapter Two

ThenightwithBrysonhad been low-key amazing. While King had always known Bryson was worth protecting, he hadn’t truly realized how much he enjoyed Bryson’s company until he had Bryson’s full attention. He hadn’t wanted their time to end, but everything did eventually.

Each Friday night, King was off duty, and he didn’t return to duty until late Sunday night. Of course, Bryson and he always crossed paths throughout the weekends. They still lived together, after all. But Bryson wasn’t his responsibility on the weekends and King needed space to be himself.

He always waited until the house fell silent to transform. Tonight, he needed to try on the clothes Bryson bought him first. The corset was amazing. While King had owned corsets in the past, they were always a lower quality since he had to buy them on the sly. Once he had the corset in place sans shirt, he couldn’t help himself. He knew exactly which pair of fishnets and leather skirt would go with it. King pulled on a thong before the stockings. From there, he added a black leather skirt that barely hid his ass cheeks. He turned in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the whole picture. King loved it. No one understood how much he adored these moments. Even though King understood he could never freely live this way, he still treasured the freedom when he could.

Only one friend had ever known about King. King rubbed his chest at the thought. He hadn’t seen Nebraska in two months, since Nebraska’s wedding. King missed trying on outfits for Nebraska—like a fashion show. He wished Nebraska was here tonight to give his opinion before King sneaked away to his club. It was hard being invisible. King picked the new perfume Bryson bought him and sprayed himself. It was doubly hard knowing he would never be loved like this. Even if he was a free man, the likelihood of being accepted as is was slim to none. He was an oddity.

Determined to hang on to the joy of new clothes, King grabbed his eye liner and went to work on his eyes. He would keep it simple tonight. The outfit screamed for dark liner and nothing else. Next, he found a pair of black combat boots. With the boots in hand, he silently headed for the door. While Bryson never came out of his bedroom after turning in for the night, King couldn’t take any chances. He checked the hall and then tiptoed from the room. Once he made it to the garage and his car, he would be home free. King made it to the living room before a sound had him freezing in his tracks. His ears strained and his gaze darted to every corner of the room. In the darkness, nothing stirred. The open curtains allowed the security lights to cast a glow across the floor. It hit King. The security lights had been triggered. Before he had time to investigate, a shadow crossed the light, perfectly outlining someone holding a gun.

“I heard a noise.”

King’s chin shot up at Bryson’s whisper. Then a sound he had heard countless times had some form of sixth sense kicking in. King dropped his boots and ran full speed at Bryson. Just as he tackled the man to the floor, the gunfire began. Glass, wood, and debris flew in every direction. King tried making himself bigger to protect Bryson. He covered Bryson’s head and face. Glass cut into his skin in several places. Finally, two pops sounded. The rapid gunfire fell silent. Two more pops rang out before everything went still.

King lifted his head. His gaze swept Bryson’s body. He searched for any sign he was hurt. “Are you okay?”

Bryson nodded. “Are you?”

King took stock. “I only took some glass, I think.”

They held each other’s stare. Neither of them moved.

“Sir, the threat has been neutralized.”

The comment from the doorway, coming from the weekend security team, pulled King from his trance. Horror washed over him as he recalled how he was dressed.

“Thank you. Please take care of things,” Bryson called toward the door, sounding surprisingly calm.

“Yes, sir.”

When they were alone again, Bryson went back to holding King’s stare. “Stand up and let me see.”

Shock had King slow to move. That and he dreaded the moment Bryson fully saw him. He winced as he moved to his feet and several shards of glass made themselves known. Still, he helped Bryson stand before going to work on pulling the glass shards from his side.

Bryson took King’s arm and steered him back toward his bedroom. Glass cut into King’s feet. He glanced down. Bryson was barefoot.

King stopped. “Wait.” He lifted Bryson from the floor.

“What are you doing? You’re hurt.”

“Hush.” King wasn’t technically on the clock. He would backtalk if he wanted. Plus, everything hurt, and he was likely about to be tossed in the street anyhow once the shock wore off and Bryson truly realized how King was dressed. Then Archer would kill him because he knew too much. It truly had been a day.

Bryson let King carry him across the glass and into his bedroom. He shouldn’t have, but King obviously wasn’t in the mood to hear arguments. Bryson couldn’t stop staring at King, watching for every twinge of discomfort. He had saved Bryson. More than that, Bryson didn’t have as much as a scratch while blood poured from King’s side. None of that took away from his beauty. His gorgeous whiskey eyes were meant to be lined in dark liner the way they were. The corset he had bought was ruined now, but it looked every bit as amazing as Bryson hoped.

Once inside King’s bedroom, King set Bryson on the bed and went down on one knee. He checked the bottoms of Bryson’s feet for glass and cuts.

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