Page 108 of Burden of Proof

Someone opened the door, and Finn cleared his throat, warning me, “Don’t say a word about it to Marshall.”

“Don’t say a word about what to me?” Marshall asked.

Finn grimaced, banging his head against the wall. I shrugged my shoulders at him, not surprised in the least that Marshall had finally come after us. Ever the patriarch, always the fixer.

“I do hate the pink,” Finn said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “You were both right.”

I shot a scathing look at my brother as the door to the bathroom opened again, and Smith crammed himself into the space with us.

“I can’t believe you guys left me out there, and you’re not even really pissing.” He sounded actually hurt, and I leveled a look up at Marshall.

“I would love to, if everyone would shut up,” I told Smith, edging my way out of the group and into one of the stalls.

“You’re right,” Marshall said next. “Come on.”

It was under a minute before he’d herded Finn and Smith out of the bathroom, and not many seconds after that before my phone pinged with a text message.

Marshall

I’m worried about Finn.

He’ll be fine.

Do you know what’s wrong?

I have an idea.

And it’s nothing we can fix.

You should be more concerned about Smith and his idolatry of you.

I know.

Make time for him like you used to.

Marshall didn’t have anything to say to that, which I took as a good sign.

Before joining the three of them back at the table, I turned down the volume on my phone and gave another watch to the video Lincoln had made for me earlier in the day. The things I was going to do to that man when I got home were unmatched, and if I made it through the weekend without convincing him to move in with me, I would be an absolute failure at life.

If he wanted to keep his apartment, that was fine, but I wanted him at mine. I’d bring the fish over myself if that was what I had to do. We could go over there first thing tomorrow or Sunday and transport Feeny to a new home on my dresser if that was what Lincoln wanted to do. Then we’d have lunch with Andrew, and at some point, I’d make time to fill Lincoln up with cum and shove a plug up his ass, just like I’d promised the night I invited him to the party. I was head over heels for Lincoln Summers, and I was ready for the whole world to know it.

CHAPTER 33

LINCOLN

At 8:45, I’d stripped out of my clothes and sank down onto my knees at the foot of Hunter’s bed. He was due home sooner rather than later, but I needed the biting press of the floor against my bones to keep me from coming untouched. What a change in me, from being so certain of my dominance to leaning more into submission every day. I definitely appreciated the dichotomy of it, even if walking both sides of the line made things difficult for me mentally some days.

Reaching between my legs, I made a loose overhand fist and stroked gently down my shaft. The touch, even featherlight, was too much. I released my dick and grabbed my thighs, digging my fingernails into my skin until the sharp bursts of pain snapped me out of the haze. It was the plug in my ass that had done me in, the weight and press of it inside of me. Jostling with every step, every move.

Honestly, it had been the whole day, though.

Jerking off for him and not finishing, taking a shower and prepping myself for him before putting the plug in. It had turned the entire day into foreplay, and I had no fucking idea how Hunter had made it through work—in an office, no less—and dinner with his brothers without losing his mind.

I’d have my answer soon enough, because from the other end of the house, I heard the front door slam open, then closed. I scrambled off my place on the ground, hoping the redness on my knees didn’t give away the position I’d been trying so hard to get comfortable in. Hunter came around the corner in a flash, shoes off, feet bare, one hand loosening his tie and the other fighting with his belt. When he saw me, his eyes went dark, the hunger apparent on his face. The sight of him was the same as drinking a whole bottle of wine. The hazy want and the unsteady legs. Trying to right myself, I swallowed hard and tweaked at one of my nipple piercings.

“Look at you,” he rasped, finally winning the battle with his tie.

“I’ve been good for you all day, Daddy,” I told him, voice shaking as badly as my thighs. “Now please get on your knees and let me come in your mouth.”