Page 1 of The Year of Us: August

Cory

The remnants of Reese’s spanking had faded by the time I got back on a plane to New York to finalize that chapter of my life. I had an office and an apartment to pack up and ship across the country. Though my assistant had done the bulk of it, there were things I wanted to deal with personally.

And Kale would never forgive me if I skipped out on my going-away party. He said it was the least I could do. I said it was an excuse for him to drag his prince to The Black Door. Kale assured me that he needed no such excuse.

New York welcomed me back with an endless deluge of rain, making me long even more for the sunny shores of California and the man waiting there for me. I’d grown to despise leaving him. My only consolation was that this was a short trip.

I spent the first day here making sure my things were in order for shipping to my new home. Well, to my rental while I waited for the sale to finalize.

I thought about taking my furniture, but in the end, I decided to leave it in the apartment. If Reese and I ever came to New York, we could use the apartment instead of a hotel. It might not have room service, but it was infinitely more private.

Once those things were taken care of, I went on a bit of a nostalgic walk around my neighborhood.

I paid a visit to my favorite restaurant, had lunch, and left a big tip on my way out.

There weren’t many things about the city that I’d miss, mostly it was the people.

But the tradeoff was definitely in my favor.

As I rode up the elevator to the floor The Black Door was on, I pulled my phone out and sent Reese a text.

Before I left, I’d put him in charge of a rather important item, and every so often I liked to check to make sure he was taking good care of it.

I joked to him that it was the key to my heart, but the heavy weight of the cage between my legs reminded me that it wasn’t my heart that I’d locked up for him.

In a fit of romanticism—or maybe insanity—I’d wanted to give him something. A token of my love. My appreciation. My devotion to him. Reese had given me so much. It took him months to get there, but him calling me Sir had been a life-changing moment for us. It felt transformative.

It felt right.

And I wanted to find a way to show him that the amount of effort he’d put into this relationship hadn’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

“What the fuck?” Reese had said, his eyes wide as I dropped the key into one hand and the cage into the other.

“Put it on me,” I told him, the conviction in my voice unwavering.

Reese blinked up at me. “Why?”

“Because I hate leaving you. Because you can’t come with me. Because if you put it on me, I’ll feel you the whole time I’m gone. I’ll feel you anyway, but I want you to know that I do.” I smiled at him then and watched his throat bob when he swallowed. “And because I told you to.”

The hours since that moment had been agony and ecstasy, and every so often I’d test Reese with the number of hours left until I was back in LA. Home.

It wouldn’t matter if it were Los Angeles, New York, or Bermuda. Wherever Reese was, that was home.

The Black Door was busy when I walked in, but the person at the door had been expecting me and told me where I could find Kale.

I’d told my friend to keep it simple, that whatever fuckery he wanted to get up to, he could do without me.

I was coming for a drink and to say goodbye to people that I wouldn’t see for a while. In some cases, ever again.

I found them upstairs, grouped together in a lounge area, taking up half the furniture in the space. Truthfully, I knew Kale the best out of the bunch, but as one of the few people I could call friends, it didn’t hurt to humor him.

“Kale, Christian,” I greeted as I sat down.

“Gentlemen.” I nodded to everyone else, their names coming back to me one by one.

Boston, Kale’s brother. Ford, Boston’s partner.

A former secretary-poaching player, Ford had settled down with Boston and been all the better for it.

I knew Brooks and Alex far better than I knew their boyfriends, Tate and Dylan, who were huddled together, having their own private conversation.

“I can’t believe we’re losing another one to LA.” Kale lamented, handing me a drink. “You need to catch up with us. We’re three drinks deep.”

“That’s not happening.” I took the whiskey and had a sip.

Kale rolled his eyes and tangled his fingers in Christian’s hair. “No one listens to me anymore.”

“Is this my going-away party, or is this the Kale Sheffield pity party?”

Ford snorted a laugh, earning him a sharp look from Kale, and an amused one from Boston.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew in my bones that it was Reese and just the thought of him had my poor neglected dick trying to thicken in the confines of the cage.

I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to make it all the way to my scheduled flight time.

I had half a mind to ask which one of the men here owned a private jet so I could get to LA faster.

I missed Reese like I’d miss a limb. Like I’d miss oxygen.

That’s why it was easy for me to ignore everyone around me and pull my phone out.

Reese’s text message was a number. A slightly smaller number than the one I’d sent him on my way up. I was glad I wasn’t the only one counting down the minutes.

“Oh, I bet I know who that is.” Kale reminded me of a hyper school kid sometimes. He reached for my phone, but I pulled it out of his reach and tapped off a quick reply to Reese, hating the distance between us.

“You’ll have to bring him to meet us one day,” Ford suggested.

“I insist,” Kale added. He raised his glass in a toast. “To Cory. May LA be everything you always wanted.”