Page 34 of Dual Surrender

“You didn’t know because you weren’t there.” Ronan grinned. “You were irrelevant.”

“Ronan.” I frowned. I didn’t think I liked him saying I’d been irrelevant, but I had been. My presence had been inconsequential to everything that had happened, everything that had been said.

“You liked it because you brought Rich pleasure, you brought Foster amusement. You brought me…” He licked his lips, biting into the bottom one so hard he left a mark. “You brought me the same thing you always do.”

“What’s that?”

“Release,” he answered, pushing his plate toward the middle of the table. “Pleasure.”

“I almost safeworded,” I admitted.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?”

“Almost isn’t enough,” he said. “You wanted to feel that. You needed to know how much you could take.”

“Is that all?” I croaked, worried he was right.

“You liked the others being there. I know we talked about that bit before, but it’s going to come up again. And soon,” Ronan warned. “But for now, I want to put these dishes in the sink and then take you to bed. I want to fall asleep inside of the man I love.”

My heart fluttered, as it always did. I grabbed his plate and stacked it with mine, dropping it beside the sink and following him into the bedroom. He took a quick shower while I stripped out of my clothes, and he stopped me before I put on pajamas. With a teasing frown, he shook his head and jerked his chin toward the bed.

“I said I want to fall asleep inside the man I love,” he repeated.

I climbed onto the bed, rolling onto my side and hiking up my leg to give him my ass. He slicked himself with lube and eased inside of me with a soft grunt, burying himself as deep as he could reach.

“Is this okay?” he asked, kissing the back of my neck.

I clenched my muscles around him, sucking him deeper and closing my eyes.

“Yes, Ronan.”

Chapter Eleven

Ronan

The shrill chirping of my cellphone ringtone pulled me out of a much needed sleep. Kevin groaned, his hips rustling and causing my long-soft cock to slip out of his ass. That made me groan, and reluctantly I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the nightstand, blinking Foster’s name into focus on the caller ID.

“It’s almost two in the morning,” I answered.

Kevin muttered something incoherent and yanked the sheets, rolling over and giving me his back.

“I know, I know,” Foster said, his voice sounding a little panicked in my ear. “I’m sorry, but I need your help.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I sat up straighter.

“Fuck,” Foster muttered, and something slapped loudly in the background.

“Are you okay?” I asked again, throwing my legs out of bed and leaning over to rest my elbows on my knees.

“I’m fine, but can you come over? And bring your doctor shit.”

“My doctor shit.” I closed my eyes and sighed, stretching my legs in front of me and yawning. Kevin muttered something again that clearly telegraphed his discontent, so I climbed out of bed and padded out of the bedroom, collapsing on the couch in the dark.

“Sage is hurt.”

“Sage.” I tried to place the name, unfamiliar with the concept of Foster having friends who weren’t me or Rich. And then it clicked. Sage was a name I hadn’t heard since December. Sage…the name of the man that Foster had fucked off to his cabin in the woods with so he could get fucked six ways from Sunday; Sage, the man who’d had Foster tangled up in knots since he got back to the city. “Your…shit. The New Year’s guy?”