Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

“I reckon we can cover cuckolding with my number four—Franklin,” I said. “First of all, to answer your question, no, I don’t necessarily believe it’s gonna be a big kink for us. I think it’s situational, but who knows? I’m not arrogant enough to predict the future.”

Tate eyed me dubiously. “You wanna explore cuckolding with Franklin, a man you thought I was leaving you for, a man you’ve all of a sudden hooked up with?”

I grinned lazily and placed a hand under my head. “I like the way you say that—that I hooked up with him.”

Tate didn’t. He scowled, and there was nothing playful about it. “You motherfucker. You’re mine.”

This was why. Fuck, I would’ve gotten hard if I hadn’t just emptied my balls into him. “Let that jealousy fuel you, pet. That’s what I intend to do when we invite him to our room in Mclean. With him, I want us to use all those twisted emotions to set us ablaze.” I pushed myself up on my elbows. “I want to exploit our insecurities, confront them, in a time and space we control together.”

He simmered down a little and bit at a cuticle. “Shouldn’t you as the Master be the bull or whatever?”

I shrugged. “Fuck what we should. I wanna catch you two in the act, I wanna get angry, and I wanna rapefuck you in front of him until you only remember my name and he feels utterly humiliated.”

That gave him goose bumps. He swallowed hard and played absently with one of the loops in my jeans. “What if I don’t want that? What if I don’t want him?”

“Then we don’t do it.” I waited until he made eye contact. “Can you honestly say that, though?”

“I don’t know!” He erupted in frustration, seemingly aimed at himself, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Part of me’s like, as long as we’re solid, let’s go for it. It feels downright sick—but in a strange way. It’s a dark corner in the back of my brain I’m forbidden to go near. I feel like it would…” He struggled to find the word.

“Expose us,” I said quietly.

He flicked me a glance. “Yeah.”

“I want us exposed, Tate.” I reached up and lifted his chin. “I wanna fuck with that pretty little head of yours and scrape us both off the floor when we’re done.”

My words had an effect on him. A slow flush spread across his body, his eyes darkened, and it wasn’t as easy for him to cling to his stubborn fears. Because he believed in us too.

I stroked his cheek. “You got turned on when I fucked you and admitted I’d almost brought Franklin back here. You couldn’t help picturing it, could you?”

He exhaled. “It was torture.”

“What kind of torture?”

“The torturous kind!”

I grinned.

He groaned and shook his head. “There’s something there—I admit it. I imagined seeing you with him in a bar, in the bathroom, as if the door to a stall was open an inch or two, and I saw you fucking him there. I watched. You looked me dead in the eye and kept fucking him.”

I hummed. “Could be fun exploring emotional sadism, couldn’t it?”

“Could be fun humiliating his slutty ass off,” he muttered.

My mouth twitched. He was too cute. “We’re not co-topping him until you’ve let go of your anger.”

Franklin was so new that I doubted he’d be able to tell the difference between humiliation as a kink and humiliation because Tate was furious with him.

He huffed and reached for his sweats. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss playing with Franklin until we’ve had an actual conversation with him. We don’t know if he’s even interested. I don’t know if I want him. I fucking told him not to talk to you. I gave him the virtual tour of Mclean and everything, offered to help him navigate his beginning in kink—oh, and I joked to him. I said don’t go near my ex.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “When was this? After the munch?”

“Yes,” he responded tightly.

I sat up too, and I brushed some dust and old crumbs off my hands. “Well, I met him the Friday before the munch, so…”

Tate frowned. “Still.”

Yeah. Still.

We got off the floor, but I wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. I hauled him in for a hug and kissed the side of his head. I squeezed his ass too, because it was naked and calling to me.

“I love you, Tate. I mean everything I’ve said. And that includes taking our time—we won’t do anything until you’re ready to push those limits.”

He peered up at me with some lingering uncertainty. “But you could start right now?”

That was a stretch. “No. Right now, I need to reconnect with the man I’m spending the rest of my life with. I want a few days of excessive texting while we’re at work, I want to flirt with you—” I rested my forehead to his and finally coaxed a smile from him “—I want us to cook together, to watch movies, to shower, to give each other back rubs and blow jobs—I just wanna spend time with you, Tate.”