“At the same time,” he prodded, and he stopped me on the stairs.
I released a breath. “At the same time, I am desperate to make friends. To be part of something that eases the loneliness.”
I didn’t even know how to make friends at my age. Tate was an exception, and look how I’d handled that situation.
Kingsley furrowed his brow, and I didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes. But he didn’t respond yet. Instead, he trailed down the last steps, and he called out for Tate to let him know we’d wait outside. He also told Tate there was a note for him on the front desk in the lobby.
I watched him place the note myself, and I couldn’t help but sneak closer for a quick glimpse.
Do you smell the gasoline?
Do you see the black smoke?
Out of the ashes, my love.
And into the flames.
I reeled back mentally before my feet managed to catch up, and I hurried after Kingsley until we got to the porch, where the lamp next to the door lit up automatically. My goodness, he’d just written that note on the way down the stairs. He was so casual. But on the inside… Well, I couldn’t read his mind, but I could guess that a lot was going on within Tate and Kingsley’s relationship that nobody else knew about. Those were the fringes I’d mentioned. I wasn’t supposed to know. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be on the outside where I could acknowledge that what they had was simply…fire. Not to mention it was private, between them.
It was right. They belonged together. Their love was alive.
A discomfort faded in my chest. A sense of rightness settled instead. And I realized it helped me to see them solid, because it made the lines around them more visible. They shared a bubble I wasn’t allowed to enter. My place was just outside of the scorching zone, where they could meet up with me from time to time for something else, something for the three of us.
I liked those lines.
Then Kingsley and I spoke at the same time.
“He’s everything to you—”
“I have an idea—”
We chuckled.
He cocked his head next, and he said, “He is.”
I smiled. “What idea?”
“Right.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “I’m making you an official member here today. So I want you to go on the website and create an account. Have a look around, maybe add some members as friends, check out the event schedule.” His cigarette dangled between his lips as he stepped closer and adjusted my tie. “The Handler’s Whore could be a fitting username. But that’s up to you.”
No, I already loved the name.
“I’ll show you, Franklin,” he murmured, “that you can belong to Tate and me, that you can belong in our community, on your own terms. You can belong to whoever you want—and however many you want.”
I swallowed hard as a rock of desire dropped lower in my stomach. “I want to be your whore, Sir.”
He smirked a little and gave my cheek a light smack. “You want to be everyone’s whore—but I was first.”
Always my first. I raked my teeth across my bottom lip and wondered if I could kiss—
The door opened behind us, and Tate stepped out with a to-go cup of coffee for Kingsley. I took a step back, to which he side-eyed me and raised a brow. It flustered me not to know where we stood. His Master, the love of his life, had fucked me in front of him mere hours ago. Was he okay? Would we be okay?
He refocused on Kingsley, extended the coffee, and stood up on his toes to kiss his Master. “I loved the note,” he whispered into the kiss. “And I love you.”
Kingsley hummed and squeezed Tate’s bottom. “Let’s get on the road. I’m taking you out for a quick breakfast date.”
I caught the smile on Tate’s lips, a private little twist of sheer satisfaction, meant for only Kingsley’s eyes.
I cleared my throat and pushed down my sudden nervousness. “Tate, could we possibly have lunch tomorrow?”
He looked back at me with an unreadable expression.
“That’s a great idea.” Kingsley’s quiet encouragement thawed something in Tate’s eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “But I might get angry, so we’re doing it at our place.”
Fuck. Yes, sure—no, it made sense. He had every right to be furious, and nobody wanted to make a scene in a restaurant.
“Let me know if I can bring anything,” I replied as smoothly as I could muster. “Wine, dessert, a baseball bat you can strike me with.”
Kingsley let out a laugh.
Tate’s mouth twitched, but he wasn’t ready to show any mirth. “Don’t fucking tempt me.”
He still carried a lot of the same assertiveness I’d witnessed yesterday, and it continued to screw with my head. It was an incredibly sexy trait, even when it was laced with real anger.