Tag Team (24 page)

Rig’s frown deepened, and then he smirked. “Oh I’ve thought about it plenty of times over the years. You really can be a shit sometimes.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at him. “I’m talking about how you said, you’re not sure even Mason knows what he needs. Rig, it’s not in his nature to figure out what he needs. Mason was given what he needed by his Doms without ever having to ask for it for twelve years. Beyond all the conflicting emotions that he was dealing with, when he finally admitted it was what he wanted, the relief in his eyes nearly stole my fucking breath. He wants this, Rig, and more importantly, he needs this.”

Rig didn’t look completely convinced, but his features softened, the teasing and confusion seeping from his eyes. “I’ve always trusted your instinct. Lord knows you’re better at reading people than I am,” he admitted. Rig reached out and tangled his fingers in Bobby’s curls and pulled his face close again until their noses practically touched. He searched Bobby’s eyes. “I know how bad you want this from him. Fuck, Bobby, I want this from him, but I worry because we want this so badly, you’re seeing things you want to see rather than what was really there.”

Bobby leaned his forehead against Rig’s and thoughtfully chewed on his lover’s words. Was that what he was doing? Projecting his hopes and desires onto Mason, seeing something that was only real in Bobby’s mind? He supposed it was possible, but the thrill of excitement and desire that ripped through him when he’d heard Mason admit he wanted Bobby’s heavy hand, the relief in Mason’s brown eyes when he finally uttered the words, “I do,” Bobby hadn’t imagined it, nor had he imagined the set of Mason’s jaw, the assuredness that seemed to settle in him, and he damn sure hadn’t imagined the way Mason’s voice grew steadier or the glint of confidence in his eyes when he met Bobby’s gaze unerringly and said, “I’m sure.” Bobby
was
sure of what he saw and heard.

“I know you’re worried,” he finally said, pulling back just enough to see Rig’s face. “And I love you for it, but I’m sure of what I saw.”

“But—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Bobby interrupted. “And you’re right. I’m not saying we should have been going all hard-core Dom on him. I’m just saying we should have considered how hard it is for him to ask for things and maybe we should have been the ones asking the questions.”

“Okay,” Rig conceded with a curt nod of his head. “Now that we know, how do you want to handle this?”

It was strange having Rig defer to him. Rig was usually the one to rush in, cocksure attitude leading the way, and 99 percent of the time he was right, which had caused more than a few fights over the years. So to see Rig want something so badly that it knocked the hubristic trait right out of the man was a little frightening.

Bobby looked away, catching a glimpse of Mason just as he pushed through the glass doors. Mason pulled his pale-blue hoodie tighter around him as he hurried toward the car, as the cold fall wind blew his hair, obscuring his face.

“You’re going to put your foot to the pedal and get us the hell home,” he told Rig, not turning away from Mason. “We’ll give him a chance to get settled, and then I’m going to prove to you I’m right.” He stole a quick look at Rig and smirked at him. “And Rig?”

“Hmm?” Rig asked distractedly, his gaze also on Mason.

“You still owe me a fucking lollypop.”

Chapter 22

H
E
’
D
envisioned traffic jams, crowded walkways, and skyscrapers. What Mason hadn’t expected was the gorgeous high-style home that exemplified Queen Anne residential architecture. Mason had always had a passion for houses. He’d sat for an untold number of hours in this very backseat staring out the windows in awe as either Gregory or Charles drove through the older neighborhoods in Atlanta and South Carolina. After touring a Queen Anne style home in Atlanta, he’d fallen in love with the place and had often fantasized about one day living in one.

“Wow! It’s gorgeous,” Mason said breathlessly as he stared up at the grand structure, taking in the pale wood shingles that covered the asymmetrical façade, reminding Mason of fish scales. His eyes scanned greedily from the overhanging eaves, Dutch gables, to the ornate porch with its classical columns and spindle work that ran the entire length, gasping as he gorged himself on all its magnificent beauty.

“Thanks. It’s kind of fitting that a queen like Bobby here would want a Queen Anne house. It fits him,” Rig snorted.

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbled playfully.

“Actually,” Mason said, not looking away from the house. “Norman Shaw popularized the Queen Anne style of architecture in the eighteen seventies, but Shaw was eclectic and often included Tudor elements and the Old English style became popular in the United States where it became inaccurately known as the Queen Anne style.”

The silence stretched for so long that Mason turned his head to look at the two men in the front seat. Both of their mouths were agape and they were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. Mason’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, and he looked away. “Sorry. You probably already knew that.”

“Uh, no. I had no idea,” Bobby admitted, with an incredulous tone to his voice. “I just thought it was cool looking.”

“It is very cool looking,” Mason said, nodding enthusiastically. His fingers hovered over the door handle, itching to push the door open so he could sprint past the beautiful wrought-iron gate and get inside and explore.

“Once we get you settled we’ll take you around and show you some of the other houses in the neighborhood,” Rig offered.

Mason didn’t even respond. The sound of the driver’s side door opening distracted him from his thoughts, and he bound out of the car, vibrating and jittery like a happy puppy.

Rig came around the car, laughing at Mason’s eagerness and held the door until Bobby hefted himself out. Rig closed the door. “Should we unload the car first?”

Mason forced himself to still, which wasn’t an easy task considering the excitement searing through him; he was practically dizzy from it. God, he was such a geek.

“Rig,” Bobby chastised. “Why don’t you just kick his puppy while you’re at it?”

Mason snorted. If only they knew he was the insane puppy about ready to piddle if they didn’t let him in soon. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie to hide how they shook and tried to enjoy the beautiful array of colors in the large majestic oaks and sycamores that surrounded the house. The still lush shrubs and bushes that lined the cobblestone walkway swayed in the cool October breeze.

“C’mon, Mason,” Bobby said, grabbing onto his elbow. “Rig can unload the car while I give you the ten-cent tour.”

Mason smiled broadly, allowing Bobby to steer him along the pathway and up the front steps. His knees nearly buckled when Bobby used his key and pushed the heavy oak door open and waved an arm grandly, allowing Mason to step through the entryway first. As he stepped over the threshold, Mason briefly wondered if one could have an architectgasm. The way his pulse was pounding, his breath stuck in his chest, and warmth rushed through his veins as he took in the highly polished wood plank floor covered in fine Persian runners of gold and varying shades of reds that ran along the entire length of the twelve feet wide hallway, he thought it was quite possible. A moan, much like one born of sexual pleasure, escaped him as he caught sight of the bird's eye maple used in the parlor to his right. Another blissful sound that rumbled up from deep within his chest rushed out of Mason when he spotted the dark quartered oak in the library. Oh for fuck sakes, he was so totally going to cream his fucking jeans.

“From the look on your face, I’m not sure if I should be happy you like our house or jealous of it,” Bobby said jokingly.

“Definitely jealous because I’m pretty sure I just came,” Mason said unapologetically and then bent, untied the laces of his runners, and pulled them off. He set them carefully aside, brushing his fingers over the soft wool of the rug, before he stood and looked up at Bobby.

Bobby’s eyes were a little glazed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard as he stared at Mason. It was only then Mason realized he’d said his thought out loud, and his cheeks heated. “Uh, yeah, that was supposed to be caught by the filter.”

Bobby stepped up close, and his hand snaked out to grab Mason’s hip and pull Mason against him. “I can honestly say I’ve never had anyone have quite a strong reaction to my house before.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across Mason’s. “I like it,” he said quietly and nipped at Mason’s bottom lip.

Mason gasped at the slight sting of pain and grabbed onto Bobby’s shoulder as a shudder went through him. “I like everything about you,” he admitted just as quietly and chased those warm lips, begging for a kiss.

Bobby wrapped Mason in his arms, one hand possessive and strong on his ass, the other tangling in Mason’s hair as his head was tilted back. Mason’s breath hitched as Bobby pressed his lips gently against Mason’s, lapping at his lips until Mason parted them. Only then did he shove his tongue deep, drawing the kiss out for long moments until they were both breathless when it ended. Bobby ran his bearded chin along Mason’s jaw until his warm breath tickled the shell of Mason’s ear, ripping another shudder from him. “I like everything about you too,” Bobby murmured seductively, and then inhaled deeply. “The way you smell.” He scraped his teeth across the lobe of Mason’s ear. “The way you taste.” The hand on Mason’s ass tightened, fingers digging into his flesh. “The way you feel.”

Mason’s eyes fluttered closed, and he clung to Bobby as his legs began to shake. Mason liked all those things about Bobby and Rig too, and it made his chest ache to finally hear Bobby say the words out loud. He’d felt it in both of their touches, the way they looked at him, but to finally hear it caused a calmness to seep into his soul, even as his body heated in excitement.

The house all but forgotten, Mason’s focus narrowed to the strong body surrounding him, the warm, powerful hands holding him, Bobby’s rich, masculine scent enveloping him, and the wet slide of a tongue along the side of his neck. Mason moaned his pleasure and tried to crawl farther into Bobby’s body.

Mason jumped when a heavy thud hit the door behind him. “Someone want to get the door,” Rig yelled, his voice muffled but the annoyance in it clear.

“Oops,” Mason muttered. “Guess we got a little carried away,” he said, licking his kiss-swollen lips.

“He never has had the greatest timing,” Bobby grumbled and kissed Mason again.

“Goddammit, Bobby! Open this door before I sling this shit across the front lawn,” Rig shouted and another louder thump shook the door.

Bobby made a frustrated sound against Mason’s lips, held him for a moment longer before huffing out a warm breath against Mason’s mouth, releasing him, and opening the door. “I wasn’t serious about unloading the car right now,” Bobby complained.

Rig pushed his way in, banging against the doorframe, his arms full with bags and a duffel hanging from each shoulder. He dropped his load in the middle of the foyer and shot a glare at Bobby. Rig’s eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between Bobby and Mason and took in a deep breath through his nose, whether to smell the sexual tension in the air or to calm himself, Mason didn’t know. Seconds later he knew it was the former when Rig stalked over to him, crowding Mason. The pad of one finger brushed along Mason’s flushed cheek and then slid across his swollen bottom lip.

“You’re forgiven,” he murmured before leaning in and taking a hard kiss. “He is quite the distraction.”

Mason sucked his bottom lip, seeking out the last traces of Rig’s flavor after the man stepped away and grabbed Bobby by the arms, kissing him soundly before thumping down the hall.

He and Bobby watched him go and then began to laugh. “That went better than I thought it would,” Bobby teased. “C’mon,” he added and took Mason’s hand in his. “You can check out the rest of the place.”

Mason followed him without hesitation, his happy grin never wavering until they stepped through the door at the end of the hall, and Mason gasped and his heart skipped a beat. In keeping with the historical feel of the front of the house, Mason expected a butler’s pantry and separate kitchen and living space; what he found was one large open room. Not only was the layout not what he expected, the modern décor was a complete surprise.

“Wow. Just… wow,” he stammered.

“I take it you approve?” Bobby asked before releasing Mason’s hand and walking to the kitchen area.

Mason nodded his head vigorously, but didn’t respond. He couldn’t even articulate his thoughts. The polished stainless steel appliances and black granite in the impressive kitchen carried through the living space. The tables and bookshelves mimicked the industrial feel of the appliances while the black high-gloss entertainment center that nearly spanned the entire opposite wall complemented the granite. The heavy white leather furniture matched the kitchen cupboards. The rooms flowed pleasingly to the eye. Simple, clean lines of silver, white, and black coloring could sometimes feel cold, but the splashes of bright red, gold, and orange gave this space a warm, welcoming feel.