Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(91)

The tattoo on his right wrist was visible above the tape, and Doyle slowly traced the red ink over the black. Doyle’s voice choked up when he next spoke. “And I’m beyond grateful that our story together isn’t over, it’s only just beginning.” He handed the marker back to Loren and held his right hand out to Mevi, helping him stand and kissing him to resounding applause.

“Ahh,” Tilly said, sounding satisfied. “Okay, you can cut ’em loose. Who’s got a knife?”

About twenty were held up, a few loudly flicked open, getting another round of laughter.

“Smart-asses. You’re all a bunch of damn smart-asses.”

“I’ve got it,” Loren said, producing her own pocketknife.

“Et tu, bestie?”

She stuck her tongue out at Tilly. “You’re forgetting who I’m married to. King of the sadists.”

“Oh. True. Okay, I’m going back to sleep. Someone send me pictures. Congrats, you two. Don’t f*ck it up.”

Aaannnd Tilly was gone. Again.

Loren smiled as she carefully cut their hands free. “You know she’s a softy, right?”

“No,” Mevi said.

“Yes,” Doyle said at the same time.

They exchanged a glance.

Doyle smiled. “I’ll fill you in later.”





Within an hour, with full stomachs from the catered dinner Clark had paid for as a wedding present to them, they held hands as they walked around the building back to the apartment.

Doyle felt like he was on top of the world. In LA, until they publicly broke the news, they wouldn’t be able to be seen together like this. And Doyle knew this meant his career as an anonymous sober companion was essentially over, if anyone wanted to maintain discretion. He wouldn’t be able to be seen with other celebrities without the rumor mills flying, and he refused to do that to his husband, or to his clients.

But that was okay. He had enough in the bank, and Mevi had already put his foot down when discussing things as equals that he wanted to take care of Doyle financially.

Upstairs in the first bedroom, where they’d spent quite a few wonderful nights, Doyle kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning Mevi’s shirt.

“Mr. Turner, how do you feel about f*cking your hubby’s brains out tonight?”

Mevi hooked his fingers in Doyle’s belt and pulled him close, kissing him. “I think I’d rather suck my hubby’s brains out and let him f*ck me.”

Doyle smiled. Yeah, Mevi would sometimes pitch in bed, when Doyle ordered him to. But if Doyle gave him a choice?

Mevi always wanted to be the catcher. And never the metaphorical Top. That part was okay with Doyle, because Doyle wasn’t switchy.

After stripping Mevi down to his wedding ring, Doyle pointed at the floor, where Mevi immediately dropped to his knees and kissed the tops of Doyle’s feet. On his ass were healing bruises and marks from the past several times they’d already played with Doyle’s bag of toys from the storage unit.

Tonight, all Doyle wanted to do was make love to his husband.

With a little spice thrown in.

“Sit up.”

Mevi did, waiting.

He smiled, stroking Mevi’s hair. “My sweet, perfect boy,” he whispered, knowing how it was melting him inside, because Mevi’s cock now stood rigid and dripping pre-cum.

Sure, there were some daddy issues going on in his boy’s brain. Doyle gave Mevi the kind of love and affirmation he’d never felt he’d had before.

He was fine fulfilling that need in his boy. Anything he needed. Although he wished Mevi’s father was still alive so he could take a few verbal potshots at the guy.

Doyle hadn’t pushed Mevi to take him to Wyoming to meet his mom. He wouldn’t do that to his guy. If Mevi wanted to take that step, fine. If not, fine. That was one of those things he would not force him to do.

Because he loved him.





Mevi’s mind swirled as he sank into subspace. Doyle didn’t have to lay a hand on him to send him spinning into that gorgeous place where everything else stopped and silenced except his Master’s voice and body owning and controlling him.

Every time Doyle called him that—his boy—especially any variation thereof, it always made him hard and sent his mind toward the rabbit hole.

He couldn’t help it.

He’d never felt as loved and cared for as he did with Doyle. He could barely remember any of the last few concert dates in Europe, despite sold-out crowds, because he’d been singing only to Doyle, who stood in the wings and watched him.

As Doyle slowly stripped, his focus never straying from Mevi, Mevi knew he would never leave this man, never be tempted away.

No one could ever take Doyle’s place in his heart.

This man had been the first to unlock his secrets and help him face the world honestly.

Or…would be facing the world honestly, once he admitted he was gay and married. Which would happen soon enough.

The kinky stuff was just for them to know, natch.

And their friends.

Friends.

He hadn’t just gained Doyle, but a group of friends he could trust. He couldn’t wait until they could move to Florida full time, live here, make this their home.

Once he was naked, Doyle held his hands out to Mevi, helping him stand. It took every bit of will Mevi had not to kiss Doyle’s hard cock on his way up.