Page 34 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Tate

“Hi, Kelly Crothers for channel twenty-ten news, and I’m here with Tate Wilkerson on the steps of Symphony Hall in Boston. Mr. Wilkerson, you’re a hard man to catch.”

I smiled pleasantly enough for the camera and mic in my face. These sorts of things were getting a little easier to handle. “Yes, well, it’s a busy world.”

The woman in a black column dress laughed as if I had said something funny. Jewels flashed from her wrist and neck, so I imagined she was here for the performance, even though she had a cameraman in tow.

“It certainly has been busy for you. Can you tell us about the Ashley Foundation you’ve recently established?”

If I had hours, sure. I glanced at my watch. Wren was probably pacing and wondering where I was. “I’m not sure I have time to do it justice. In a nutshell, its main function is designed to be a place of refuge for abused children and young adults who have suffered due to their sexuality at home or school, wherever it may have been.”

“This is something rather personal to you and your partner?”

“Husband, and I think you already know the answer to that. I apologize, but this is actually a special night. If you’ll excuse me.” I pivoted on my heels and raced up the last few steps.

I hated feeling caught and pressured like that. On one hand, any plug for the foundation was helpful, but on the other, I had a life too—I pulled out my phone—and a fucking PR department for this shit.

“Good evening, Mr. Wilkerson. Shouldn’t you be in the hall right now?”

“Why, yes, Colin, I should be. So tell me why I had channel twenty-ten in my face? Have they reached out for any interviews?”

“Not that I know of. I can get in touch and arrange something.”

“Please do. I had to blow off a Ms. Crothers so that I could make Wren’s performance.”

“Sorry, Mr. Wilkerson. I’ll smooth things over.”

“Thank you.” I ended the call with a jab of my thumb and pocketed the device as I practically ran through the nearly deserted halls.

Wren turned my way with a smile when I slipped behind the stage. “Down to the wire, Tate. Why am I not surprised?”

“I was accosted on the steps. Where’s the security in this place?” I joked, stepping into his body heat, and my world righted.

“Are you okay?” He smoothed his hands up and down my arms as concern pulled his brows low.

“Yes, love,” I sighed, content as always being near him. “Just an overeager reporter trying to interview me when I stopped for a smoke.”

“Hmm.” He frowned. “An easy way to prevent that, you know?”

I poked his ribs, making him grunt. “Hey. No frowning. And no bringing up my bad habits.”

“You did it first.”

I rolled my eyes. “You ready for tonight?”

“Which part of tonight? My performance? Our anniversary party? Or the after-party when I’m fuckin’ your brains out?”

“Uh, yessss?”

Wren laughed from the chest, then kissed me. “Yes, I’m ready, baby.”

I scanned his big frame as he rolled his neck and shoulders. “Will you keep the tux on for round one of the after-party?”

“Round one? We’re not as young as we used to be.”

“Your refractory period still is.”

“Maybe, but not the rest of me.” He brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “Get out there and contain Momma, will you?”

“That’s what my dad is here for. I’m all yours.”

“Then go sit.” He checked the time on his phone, then handed it to me. “I’ve got two minutes, and I wanna see you sitting out there.”

“Yes, sir!”

Wren slapped my ass when I turned to head out. I glanced back at him, winked, then left to find my seat next to Winnie and Dad.

“Hey, son. Is he nervous?”

“Not one bit,” I said as the lights dimmed.

Cheers and clapping roared through the concert hall, and my beautiful husband took center stage. His cello was already positioned. Wren stopped next to it and smiled with small head nods until he found me and our parents, one brief little pause in his movements as he winked.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. He made my heart flutter and my cock twitch. Something I didn’t need perking up in the middle of this crowded room.

“He’s so handsome up there,” Winnie said.

The evening was special, as I had told the reporter. Wren had achieved his dream of joining the BSO, and tonight was his first-ever solo. It also happened to be our fifth wedding anniversary. Dad and Winnie had come into town for a long weekend, the performance, and the party we had planned with friends later on.

So much had happened since I found myself in Wren’s life. Dad and I were closer than ever. Winnie was the mom I never had. And the man I loved more than life itself thought the same of me and made sure I knew it every single day.

The road to my happy hadn’t been an easy one, but I cherished it all the more for its ups and downs. With our past demons burned, Wren and I were able to face the new ones together, solid.

After graduation, we stayed at Dad and Winnie’s for a while as Wren worked his way through music school at Auburn. Eventually, we moved out for privacy and to be closer to the campus. Our apartment was in a shady complex, and the walls were thin, but we loved it.

With the help of Mr. Stephens, who had a ton of connections, Wren found a job, not as a firefighter, but in a warehouse that worked with his school schedule and later when he had performances. I got a job at a bank to help pay the bills and through them was introduced to many volunteer opportunities in nearby communities, which ultimately led to my true passion of social work.

Winnie taught me how to cook for real. Sienna added segments of Wren playing the cello to her TikTok, which people enjoyed and requested more of. At her prompting and under her guidance, he made a YouTube channel to show off as well. She was a master of self-promotion, and it paid off when Wren was ready to seek out the BSO. We moved to Boston not long after.

Mother was eventually convicted of every single charge Dad pushed for, and she was still rotting in prison, but I honestly couldn’t care less, not anymore.

Franklin Angus Moreau IV was also convicted on every charge but did not serve his full punishment. Just over three years after being arrested, he was stabbed to death in the prison showers. With his downfall being such a huge buzz, his death had a brief mention too. Nothing was said about who did it or why the guards hadn’t been able to stop it from happening. No one asked.

Once the dust had settled in New York, Franklin’s estate was finalized, and we got a huge surprise. He’d left everything to me. His millions. All mine. Mother tried to fight it from prison and failed. With the trust from my grandmother available to me at twenty-five, plus a good majority from Franklin, my net worth skyrocketed.

Wren couldn’t understand why I wanted the money, and we’d argued about it on more than a few occasions. It wasn’t that I really wanted it or that I thought I deserved it. I supposed, in a way, it was control. For years, Franklin had robbed me of that, and now, I had control of everything he had left in this world. As a compromise, we vowed not to use any of it personally. Wren was okay with that.

I had taken Franklin’s money and invested it in abused children’s foundations until I’d had the framework to start my own. Franklin’s millions went to helping kids like me and young men like Wren. The scarred, emotionally or physically, who needed just one thing to go right for them. Just that one thing to let them know it was still okay to hope.

We named it the Ashley Foundation after Wren’s dad, Ashley Wilkerson. His life and untimely death had set me and Wren on a collision course that changed our lives in the best ways. Thanks to Sienna’s boundless determination, and now Wren’s spotlight, the foundation was getting a ton of exposure, which was truly awesome.

For my own journey of personal growth, I started therapy six years ago. It had helped me with a lot, even if I hadn’t been able to work out everything. Franklin, as much as I wanted to hate him, and in some ways did, had cared about me, and for a time, it was the only care I knew. It was wrong and fucked-up. I understood that, truly. But what my mother did was equally as fucked-up, and she had never cared for me. Still, there were days I loathed myself for letting Franklin off easy in my thoughts, but as time went on, I thought about him less and less. No matter what, my demons had led me to Wren, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Speaking of my sexy AF husband, he finished acknowledging the crowd, then smiled for me once more and took his seat on the bench behind his cello. A hushed rustling noise as everyone retook their seat dropped off to an unnerving silence before Wren put bow to string and played his beloved Vivaldi Concerto. The crowd gasped and sighed as he took everyone through a full range of emotion, then into a long, drawn-out note before the orchestra at his back struck in with full force.

I was more than proud of the man onstage. Not only for his talents but the shining confidence he wore now instead of the shame over his scars. Wren was my strength, the earth beneath me and the sky above me.

Winnie handed me a dainty handkerchief to catch the tears I hadn’t cared were falling but suddenly couldn’t stop. When I could catch my breath, I flipped Wren off, to which he grinned and finished out his performance with his eyes closed.

“Fucking drama queen,” I hissed.

Dad elbowed me in the ribs.

Several hours later, we were at our anniversary party. Both of us were still in our tuxes. No matter if he were in jeans, a suit, or nothing at all, Wren was sexy as fuck, and I got a kick out of how uncomfortable he was in the bespoke Armani. He wouldn’t fuck me with it on, unfortunately. Taking it off would be the first thing he did when we got home. Maybe I could blow him in the limo on the way there.

“What are you thinking about?” Wren asked as he handed me a glass of champagne.

“What do you think?”

He leaned in close, no longer afraid to show a little PDA. His wide chest skimmed mine, and he cupped the back of my neck as he whispered in my ear, “I’m sure my dick is involved.”

“Always. I’m thinking of a kinky game of Twister with all body parts instead of colors. You know, hand to ear or lips to asshole.”

“Tate.” Wren sighed.

“What? You should know better than to ask.”

He laughed. The sound and vibration brushed against me. “I love you. Happy anniversary.”

“I love you, Big Country. Happy anniversary.”

The party was a small affair of those closest to us. Percy had stayed my best friend and would forever remain so. I loved that man. In many ways, he was as much my hero as Wren. Through Percy, I became friends with Asher, who had been a junior when we were in school. Wren got closer with Michael over the years and, by extension, his step brother—huge distinction that counted—Jamie. Once we had moved to Boston, we reconnected with Cal Winters too. A Hickory Bend reunion had taken over.

Along with Dad and Winnie, we celebrated us and the freedom we had found. It had nearly broken us when we were trying to figure out the men we wanted to be, but we had found each other before it could. Now if the world tried, we clung to what we had made together. We were our lifelines. We had learned that early on, and now we got to celebrate life together.

Dad toasted us with a smiling, tear-streaked Winnie at his side, and then we enjoyed food and more champagne. The quiet affair was symbolic of us. Sedate, soft laughter and plenty of fuck me later glances between all the couples.

We were the last to leave. The night had been a ton of fun, but finally, Wren and I went home.

“Mom’s coming over bright and early tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said with my eyes closed and head on the seatback.

“Okay? Really?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“I figured you’d be put out if you had to put clothes on before nine.”

“She’s seen a dick before. Actually, she’s seen mine before.”

“Tate.” Wren sighed. “You’re not showing off your dick in the morning.”

“It’s so impressive in the morning, though.”

“Not when I’m through with it. Your dick will be taking a vacation come tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” I lifted my head.

“Yep. I got you a few presents for tonight.”

Well, that got my attention. “Which ones? Is it the vibrating one or the twirling one?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “Both? Oh my God, did you get us matching butt plugs? Do they match our pj’s?”

Wren laughed. Even though he had brought it up, his ears turned red.

I slid across the seat. Wren lifted his arm, and I tucked in beside him.

“I love you, Wren. More every day, which is just obscene already.”

“I love you too, Tate.”

Later, with the sunrise only an hour away, Wren and I were still enjoying each other. We had played with our new toys but ditched them in the end.

“Wren, please, please fuck me one more time.”

We had already come so much I’d lost count. The scent of sex and sweat hung everywhere in the loft. The blankets had been kicked to the floor. I lay on my stomach with an insatiable Wren soaking my hole with his kiss.

“I’m not done, baby,” he hummed.

With a burst of energy that caught him off guard, I knocked him backward and straddled his hips. “Enough, Country Boy. I’m riding this cock right now.”

He lifted his hands in surrender with a big, silly grin in place, then grabbed the lube, which was never out of reach, and slicked himself with unnecessary, teasing tugs. My ass was already wet and open, so in answer to his cocky grin, I turned around backward.

“Oh, shit.”

I fisted his cock and positioned right over him but stopped.

“Tate. Fuck.” He squirmed.

Slowly, torturously, I impaled myself. By the time my ass was flush on his groin, we were both fighting for air.

“Oh, God, go slow, baby.”

I placed my hands right above his knees and lifted my hips. He cradled them as I lowered and raised his to meet me.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he hissed.

We kept it a slow torment until we were whimpering and begging each other for more. Wren sat up, then, with his incredible strength, moved to his knees and held my back to his chest.

“Wren. Oh, God, what you do to me,” I breathed. “I’m gonna come.”

Wren fisted me, stroked me, and kissed along my neck and shoulder. My body seized, then clenched and spasmed with a tired orgasm I nearly passed out from. And with a low moan, Wren came with me.

I clutched him to me as if someone tried to take him then and there. Tears sprang to my eyes. God, I was so tired but couldn’t let go. I couldn’t explain my desperation, but I didn’t have to. He got me. Wren sniffled at my shoulder, then lowered me to the bed. He pressed me into the mattress with his body and laced his fingers with mine.

“Never gonna let go,” he whispered.

And I smiled for no reason at all.