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Alexander’s voice softened. “Unnecessary.”
Eric knew what he meant. He was being greedy, trying to force more from the man. It was ungrateful—and futile. He’d wanted a scene with him for the last month. He got it. It should be enough.
Alexander pulled out the plug and let it clatter to the floor. Then he yanked on the ropes until stinging blood rushed to where Eric’s limbs had been restricted. Strong arms held Eric up as the ropes fell away one wrap at a time.
God, he was lightheaded. Someone held up a water bottle to him. Large hands. It was Alexander. He was leaning against his chest, so cold. Something warm engulfed him next. A blanket?
He didn’t know how long they sat there in the middle of the Library. The crowd had dispersed, and Carrie stepped forward. Alexander waved her off but took the offered robe. “I’ve got it.” Alexander helped him up, then slipped Eric’s arms into each sleeve. He swayed, but Alexander kept him close.
He remembered walking down hallways and then entering their bedroom. He was led to the bed and crawled under sheets held open for him.
Alexander’s concerned face stared down at him.
He grasped Alexander’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You never have to say that to me. You did well.”
A puff of air left his nostrils. “You never have to say that to me.” He was tired. Or maybe he was giving up.
Alexander’s hand fell to his cheek. “You honored me today.”
“Oh, yeah?” His words were lazy, as if his tongue wasn’t working properly.
“You offered me full control.” He rose. “Sleep. You need it. And Eric …”
That made his eyes snap open, even though he desperately wanted to sleep.
“For the record, and I’m only saying this to you. And only once. I don’t want to work this much anymore, either. But it’s …”
“Necessary?”
“Yes, and you’re helping me more than you know.”
Renewed shame filled him. “Thank you. I’m—”
“Important to me.”
Erik had wanted to say,I’m honored. I know what you had to do. He’d been a brat. Alexander, you did what you were supposed to do.Showed them how it works.But he couldn’t help wishing it’d gone another way. Then again, wishing was for fools. In the end, no words came to him. So, he merely let his eyes drift closed. Somehow, he slept.
Later that night, in the dark, a deep dip in the mattress caused him to startle awake. Alexander was finally coming to bed. He crawled between him and Rebecca, who stretched like a kitten and rolled toward him as if her body was also attuned to Alexander’s presence. Alexander drew Eric closer, his large form engulfing him. Rebecca’s legs touched his as she swung her leg over the two of them. It was her signal. She wanted them.
Alexander grasped Eric’s hand and pulled it to his cock, hard as a rock. Arousal hit him hard. He rolled to his side, facing Alexander. The man’s eyes glittered in the dark, capturing the garden’s night lights slicing through the bedroom’s curtains. He moved his hand slowly, appreciating the man’s fine asset.
The sound of Rebecca murmuring broke their concentration. Alexander turned his head, and their mouths latched greedily. So, Eric inched his way down between the man’s legs and took him in his mouth. That would be enough—for now. At least it was, until Alexander pulled himself free minutes later and rolled on top of Rebecca. She let out a long moan as he entered her with a sharp pitch of his hips. If he wanted to fuck Rebecca and not Eric, then so be it. Eric had learned his lesson.
ALEXANDER
Glasses clinked all around him. Voices murmured as they stood in the low-lit room. The bright lights highlighted the paintings hung on the cream-colored walls.
For the last thirty minutes, Alexander couldn’t rip his gaze from the painting before him—two spread knees and what lay between them. In the picture, what he knew to be sweet, pink flesh was depicted as a flourishing garden of blues, greens, and yellows.
Another man stopped and gave him a holiday greeting that he barely heard. Alexander couldn’t stop staring at the depiction of Rebecca, open, vulnerable, beautiful. Finally, the man left Alexander alone again to drink in the sight of his love.
Someone else stopped. Cleared his throat. “What do you think?”
He twisted to face Eric, his blond hair haloed by the twinkling Christmas lights of the tree behind him. Sucking in a long breath, he widened his stance. “Beautiful. Except Rebecca is a natural redhead, so the garden is a bit …”
“Lush?” Eric stepped forward, and the two men faced the painting. “It’s metaphorical.”
