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“Yeah, fuck it.” His lips curved into a smirk before they were back on mine, heating every nerve ending in my body and filling the void I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying around with me until Aaron blew back into my life like a damn hurricane.
Who knew the holiday we both hated would be the one to ultimately bring us back together? Despite everything, I was grateful for whatever magic was in the air for Valentine’s Day, making people complete idiots for something as abstract as love.
After a string of bad luck and miscommunication, I was happy Fate got their shit together and made sure our lives intersected once more. The hatred we had for Valentine’s Day—and the shit ton of work it meant for both of us—dulled a bit, softened by the realization that after all these years I could call Aaron mine. From that moment onward, nothing, and I meant nothing, was going to keep us apart.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
International best-selling and award-winning dark romance author Ashlyn Drewek has always been a hopeless romantic. She's also fascinated by the dark, macabre things in life such as Halloween, murder, cemeteries, and witchcraft. Not necessarily in that order.
Most of her time is spent making up stories in her head or researching obscure historical topics. The results of those efforts usually end up in a book as some sort of weird Easter egg or symbolism. Anything to make Edgar Allan Poe proud.
For more information on her other dark, MM books and where you can find her online, check out her website at:https://www.ashlyndrewek.com/main
BY THE THROAT
A HIS REVELRY COMPANION
BAILEY NICOLE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is a sequel to my dark Christmas novella, His Revelry. It can be read as a standalone as there are no plot spoilers. In this story, there is drug abuse, including cocaine and marijuana, alcohol use, vague references to past self-harm scars, and references to growing up in abusive, neglectful foster homes.
There is exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation and degradation, spanking, general rough sex, sharing, boot worship, choking, double penetration, and MM and MMM explicit sex between consenting adults.
1
DEVIN
Rome is the same as he’s always been.
It’s not that I thought he might morph into a different type of person when we finally gave in to our feelings for each other a little over a month ago, but I figured he might calm down, at the very least. That’s not been the case.
Rome isn’t grounded. He’s the strike of a match with a potential to ignite at any given time. He needs me.
Currently, though, my patience is being stretched thin. A vein throbs in my temple as I watch him talk to our friend, Julian. It’s subtle, what he’s doing—almost imperceptible. He’s sitting there on the dingy couch right next to Julian. He’s the picture of comfort with his shirt off, head tilted back, and long legs spread wide. He’s as sexy as ever, from the leather pants to the long lines of pale skin, corded with sinuous muscle, to the gaunt features of his face. He is everything to me.
My fingers strangle the flesh just above my knee, and I know he sees it because the corner of his lips tick up.
He’s toying with me, wanting to get a rise out of me, but I don’t know why. I’m not entirely sure there even needs to be a reason when it comes to Rome, though. He entertains himself at the expense of others.
His legs relax a little further until his thigh slots right against Julian’s and stays there. Rome’s eyes fall closed as he taps the toe of his combat boot up and down, the leather of his pants sliding against Julian’s denim rhythmically.
I grit my teeth against the torrent of rage that threatens to consume me. Rome is not an affectionate person. He’s not the type of friend who gives casual shoulder grabs or pats on the back. It makes him sick.
So, this… display he’s putting on is intentional, and it’s going to be intentional when I choke him the fuck out.
I stand up abruptly, heading to the door. “Let’s go, Rome.”
“No.” Even while sitting on the couch, he somehow manages to look down his nose at me, confidence radiating off him in waves. “There’s a party here tonight, and I will be attending, Dev. You can go home if you want.”
Focusing on the pulse jumping in his throat, I will myself to not do anything irrational. He wants me to explode, and I’m not going to. Not yet, that is. My threshold for bullshit is pretty high, especially after dealing with him all these years.
“Step outside with me for a minute.”
He eyes me with the faintest bit of curiosity. Knowing he’ll follow, I step out onto the rickety porch. I put a cigarette between my lips and light it as the door swings open. Rome’s heavy footsteps thud as he approaches me. His forearms land on the wooden rail next to mine before he reaches out and takes the cigarette from my mouth, staring at me intently as he takes a long drag. I watch him for what feels like forever, examining the way his long, bony fingers crush the filter between their tips. His steel eyes never give away much; I’ve gotten good at reading him. He’s assessing me while I’m stuck admiring the sharp features of his face. Sometimes, like now, I just want to crush him. I want to wrap my hand around his face, hook my fingers in his mouth, and tug him back by his hair. He needs to feel me, so he never forgets that I’m here.
