The Shepherd (The Game 6)

Ah, no. That probably wasn’t wise. We were eight founding members, and we’d treated ourselves to private cabins on the property. River and Reese Tenley, the twins who’d bought the land eight years ago, shared a cabin, and so did Colt and Lucas, who were together. And the cabins were…private. I didn’t mind lending mine out—I did it fairly frequently, actually—but it was still my place, decorated after my personality, my tastes, and it was important Corey and I maintained a level of emotional distance. A playroom in the main house that everyone had access to was safer.

It was out of respect for Corey’s Daddy Dom. Marcus was adamant about ensuring Corey’s needs were met, but that didn’t mean he loved seeing his boy in the arms of another man. They were strictly monogamous.

To each their own, I reckoned. I couldn’t imagine that for myself anymore. Monogamy put too much pressure on one person, and I’d never met anyone who could tend to all my needs—and vice versa. As Sloan could attest, I was a lot to handle. I was very hands on, I didn’t know what personal boundaries were, and I tended to smother the people I cared for.

Fuck me, I shouldn’t be dwelling on this. It just led to me fretting about all the reasons I was alone.

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

“You have such a big personality, Greer…”

“I need some space.”

“You’re suffocating me!”

I flinched and clenched my jaw, then did my best to shut it all off. I had somewhere to be. I grabbed one of the smaller trucks outside our warehouse since I wasn’t picking up a man and his four kids, and I started making my way out of Fairfax.

Mclean wasn’t that far away.

Yeah, a nice long pain session—that’s what I needed now to clear my head.

The shepherd.

The bulldozer.

The steamroller.

Good-natured nicknames given to me because of my need to bring people together—family, friends, children, partners—whether I was involved or not. But those titles weren’t all sunshine and roses. I knew I was too pushy. I couldn’t fucking help it.

It was ironic too, because it wasn’t easy for me to form deeper connections. I hadn’t had many serious relationships. In retrospect, I understood why I had been the perfect boyfriend in the Marines. I’d been gone most of the time in one way or another.

I felt marginally better when I arrived at my home away from home. Our kink palace was an old Victorian estate, three stories high, and shot up from the vast fields outside of Mclean. Out here, we had all the privacy and space we could need.

I parked in the huge carport a short walk from the house, and I squinted for the sun. The house needed to be repainted soon, maybe next year. Black paint showed its age sooner than most colors.

“Hi, Master Greer!” Corey hollered across the front lawn.

I grinned faintly and walked toward him, and I threw my duffel over my shoulder.

This arrangement with Corey might be precisely what I needed to shake some of the loneliness I was feeling. Although we’d never played together before, Corey and I had good chemistry. We attended the same kinds of parties, and sometimes we’d send each other a playful wink across a room. We also read the same books, which I’d discovered by accident. He’d come running out of the downstairs changing rooms one day, crashing straight into me, and he’d dropped a book about Nero’s reign in ancient Rome. Since then, we’d texted each other book recommendations and random musings about life back then.

He was easy to talk to. He was extremely easy on the eyes too.

“Little Corey Cruz, how’s our resident globe-trotter?” I smiled as I reached him, and I ruffled his shaggy, sun-kissed hair. He was never around much during the summers; that was when he went to visit family all around the world, from Denmark and Thailand on his mother’s side to El Salvador and the US on his father’s side.

“I’m good! I’m jittery, nervous, happy, and good!”

“I like nervous and jittery.” I flashed a wolfish grin that made him giggle. “You ready for a beating?”

“Super-ready. I haven’t cried all summer,” he replied frankly. “I was even the most obnoxious brat at the last event right after I got back. But nada. Not even a spank!”

I remembered he’d been a brat that night, vividly. Well, we’d definitely make sure he cried today.

We headed up the porch steps, and I watched him pause and take a couple big breaths.

“It’s hard not to regress here,” he admitted.

Ahh, of course. That made sense. This was normally his Little space the moment he arrived with his Daddy.

“Is Marcus around?” I wondered.

He shook his head. “He’s working.”

I glanced toward the carport. The only reason I’d missed Corey’s bright-green Mini Cooper was because it was parked next to River’s truck.