Ropes and Dreams (20 page)

What the hell had happened to him? Ian tried to swipe at his eyes, but the same fucker who’d glued his eyelids together had tied his hands to something.

“Calm down, calm down,” Drake urged. “Please, Ian. I don’t want them to knock you out again.”

Ian was so confused, and he couldn’t figure out why Drake wasn’t trying to kill whoever had drugged him and tied him up. Then Ian wasn’t anything, because darkness claimed him again.

* * * *

Drake wrung his hands as he waited for Ian to wake up again.

“He’s going to be okay, just remember that,” Frank told him. “With therapy, he can regain most of the use of that shoulder again, too.”

“All of it,” Will said, “Let’s be optimistic here. Ian is young, in good shape. He’s going to bounce back and be just as much of a super-cop as he was before.”

“We’re going to tear out the wall behind your bed and make that room and the office behind it one big space for you two until we can get a mobile home or cabin in at the ranch.” Carlos held up one hand when Drake started to protest. “Nope, don’t even. We take care of our friends and family. We consider you and Ian to be both. We don’t use that office anyway. The one upstairs is where all of our shit is.”

“Thank you. Really, no one’s ever been as good to me as you guys and Ian have been.”

“Hey,” Frank said indignantly. “I’m being good to you and Ian, too.”

“You are. Thank you, and Darcy, thank you, too. I hope when Ian’s released, you both will come out to the ranch for a day.” Drake turned his attention back to Ian. “He’s just so still.”

“Better than him squirming around,” Carlos pointed out. “He’d be hurting worse if he was awake and moving.”

A nurse poked his head in the doorway. “Uh, there’s a cap on the number of visitors—”

Chief Waronsky stood up. “I believe you’ll find there’s an exception in this case.”

The nurse blanched and looked like he’d just been handed his pink slip. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He vanished immediately after.

“What’d you do to scare that poor guy?” Carlos asked.

Chief dusted off his shoulder, as if there had been lint on it. “Nothing.”

“Wasn’t your wife’s daddy some bigwig here?” Frank nodded. “Yeah, he was on the board, or controlled the board, something.”

“He still is. I swear, that man is eighty-two, and he’s sharp as ever.” Chief smiled. “He’s going to outlive me just because he’s always thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter. He’s right, of course, but I’ll never tell him that because no one is good enough for her.”

Drake wanted a love like that—and he had it, right in front of him, with Ian. But he’d been too scared to tell Ian, had grabbed the opportunity to keep from having to admit to his feelings.

It was stupid, so stupid of him. He knew Ian wasn’t anything like the other men he’d been with. Ian had treated him with respect since the day they’d met. He’d been patient with Drake, had introduced him with a caring hand to the kind of kink Drake had craved.

And he hadn’t turned away from Drake even when Drake had told him about his fears. Drake loved Ian, loved him with everything he was or could ever be. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. If the others heard—and they would—and he got embarrassed? Then so what. He could handle that, and he deserved it for being a coward before.

“Ian,” Drake whispered in his ear as the other conversations in the room ceased. God, he was surrounded by nosey hens, but he wouldn’t change that, either. “Ian, I wish you’d open your eyes so I could look into them and tell you how much I love you.”

“Aw—”

“Will, hush.”

“Don’t shush me—”

Drake ignored them. He held his breath, waiting, but Ian didn’t magically, fairy tale prince style, open his eyes. He slept on.

“Ian, please.” He thought about the pain Ian must be in, and stopped that line of talk. “Whenever you’re ready to wake up, when it doesn’t hurt you so much to do it, I’ll be here, waiting to tell you.” Drake wasn’t leaving until he’d got to tell Ian just how much he meant to him.

Ian moved, just a little, but it was undeniable. Drake raised his head up and looked at Ian. “Ian? Ian, I’m here,” he said, then he gasped softly as Ian’s eyes opened, focused on him as if he’d been awake the whole time, and knew Drake was at his side.

Ian blinked slowly, and Drake knew he was aware of where he was. Drake’s vision blurred and he pressed gentle kisses to Ian’s brow. “I love you, Ian. So much, I love you so much.”

And Ian lowered his lids as tears leaked from his eyes. 

Epilogue

Three months later…

“He’s still the same,” Ian said as he walked into their bedroom. “I really don’t think Junior is going to come out of the coma.”

“Me either,” Drake admitted. They’d quit being angry at the kid a while back. Now it just made them both sad to see Fred Junior withering away. “You never know, though. Something could happen.”

“And he’d wake up only to get sent to jail.” Ian shook his head. “I just don’t see a good outcome at all.”

“I’m going to hope for one anyway.” Drake wasn’t afraid to hope anymore. Ian had shown him that.

“I swear the physical therapist is trying to kill me,” Ian groused. “She gets off on making me want to quit.”

“She does not,” Drake countered. “I’ve met Angie. She’s a sweetie. She just won’t let you slack off, and I’m glad. I have these fantasies about you using your left hand to paddle my butt while you work my balls over with your right hand. I definitely want the dominant hand doing that part.”

Ian’s pupils dilated as he shoved his basketball shorts down. “Come here.”

Drake went to his knees in front of Ian. Since their tests had come back negative, twice, they’d dispensed with the condoms—and dental dam—after a long talk about Drake’s fears. Ian had never had sex, oral or anal, without a condom on, so he’d gone a little nuts wanting to fuck and fuck and be sucked. He’d gone after Drake’s dick like it was a much-vaunted prize, too. Drake had never had so many blow jobs as he’d got those first couple of weeks. His poor cock had been plumb raw, and so had his ass.

“Safe words, verbal and gestures?” Ian asked.

Drake repeated them, then he parted his lips.

“Wider,” Ian instructed. He held Drake’s head still and pushed that thick, hot cock into Drake’s mouth. “Relax.”

Drake did, and Ian’s tip was in his throat an instant later.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” Ian murmured. Drake could probably do this without the countdown now, but he liked it, liked how he still had Ian’s focus.

“So good, honey,” Ian praised. He fucked Drake’s mouth for several minutes, then he pulled his cock out. “You want to give me your ass?”

Drake almost snorted. “When don’t I?”

Ian grinned and knelt in front of him. “Then get naked and come here. I’m gonna fuck you just like this.”

There wasn’t a position Drake didn’t love getting fucked in, but this one was his favourite. He loved the way Ian held him while pounding away at his ass. Drake stripped quickly.

Ian grabbed the lube off the nightstand. He slicked up his cock and two fingers. “Just the two,” he said. “Bend over and show me your hole.”

Drake bent at the waist and Ian pushed his fingers right into him. As often as Drake had something in his ass—a cock, plug, finger or tongue—he didn’t have to have the stretching, but it felt freaking good.

Ian found his gland and massaged it. “Gonna come before I tell you to?”

“N-no,” Drake squeaked out. He wasn’t wearing the cock ring, dang it!

“Are you sure?” Ian purred, rubbing it again.

“No!” Drake clenched, and Ian slapped his bottom forcefully. “Oh, again, please, Ian. Please.”

Ian pushed him down until he had his hands on the floor. He kept his fingers in Drake’s butt, curling them over Drake’s gland repeatedly as he proceeded to spank Drake.

Already sore from being paddled last night, Drake was in kink heaven. Ian caught him right by his hole and Drake shouted. He grabbed his balls and pulled—big mistake. The pain wasn’t a deterrent and he knew that when he was thinking rationally.

Ian pulled out his fingers and slammed his cock home as Drake shook and shot spunk onto the floor.

“Bad boy, Drake. You came before I told you. Now I’m gonna have to fuck you until you’re hard again, and make you come when I tell you to. How are you gonna be able to sit tomorrow?”

“I…won’t…be…able…to,” Drake got out as he was fucked so hard his teeth clacked together. Ian pulled him up until he was on his knees again. Ian’s hips hammered against his sore bottom repeatedly.

Drake’s cock liked that a lot. Ian ran his hands up Drake’s chest to his nipples. Anticipation pinged through Drake. “Please— Ah!”

Ian pinched them both, twisting them too so that Drake was overloaded with sensations. Ian canted his hips and his cock slid over Drake’s gland.

Drake was just going to short out, go bright and pop like a breaker or a shooting star.

“Getting hard yet?” Ian asked, applying more force with each thrust. Drake couldn’t even answer as he grabbed at Ian’s arms to keep himself upright.

Ian kept working Drake’s nipples until they were burning and hot. “Bet they’re going to be standing up all day,” Ian rasped. He pinched them again and Drake screamed. Fire plunged to his groin and his cock tried to fill.

Ian kept fucking him, pinching his hips, his nipples, his chest and thighs. Drake was drunk with ecstasy, pain making him heady on endorphins. Ian cupped his balls and his neck. He squeezed both, with more pressure on Drake’s balls than his throat.

Drake became frantic with need. He tried to slam his butt back. Ian’s grip on his balls tightened. It hurt, so much, but Drake needed it. He squirmed. Ian tugged. Drake keened.

“Grab your dick, honey,” Ian instructed. Drake got a hand on his shaft. “Good, so good, Drake.”

Ian alternated pressure on his balls and neck and Drake whipped his hand up and down his cock, desperate to come, knowing it’d be so good when he did.

“Love you,” he rasped as Ian slid his hand up to grip Drake’s chin instead of his throat.

“Love you too, honey.” Ian slapped Drake’s balls and Drake’s brain just…melted. He didn’t even think he shouted, or made a sound as he came. Pleasure, pain, love—they twined together in him, the bond he and Ian had built growing even stronger.

“Gonna…” Ian pushed him down. Drake went easily, pushing his butt up in the air. “Oh yeah—” Ian rutted half a dozen times, then he slapped both of Drake’s buttocks at the same time and pumped his load into Drake’s hole.

“I don’t even know if love is a strong enough word,” Ian said later, as they lay on the floor, sweaty and spunky. “People use it for stupid shit—love and hate both, you know? And what I feel for you, it’s so much more than ‘I love this TV show’ or whatever. So much more it’s like a totally different word.”

Drake rolled over and put his hand on Ian’s taut stomach. “But it’s enough, because I understand. It’s not the word anyway—it’s this, between us. We know what it means, what we mean when we tell each other I love you.”

“We do,” Ian agreed. “It means you’re my world, my reason for living, my reason for waking up every morning and coming home every night. You’re my heart and soul, Drake.”

“Oh, gosh. You too, Ian. See? You and I know.”

And Drake was going to get to spend the rest of his life with this amazing man. He was going to make sure Ian enjoyed every step of their journey together, and he would do the same.

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Southwestern Shifters: Revenge

Bailey Bradford

Excerpt

Chapter One

Blood dripped onto the sand, settling down some of the dust kicked up by the two wolves currently trying to best one another. Nathan sat when what he really wanted to do was jump up and run to Marcus’ side. He wouldn’t, of course. Nathan never let his worry show, although maintaining a calm look was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He’d worked hard over the years to project that air of stoic faith when his mate Marcus, the Alpha Anax of North America, was challenged by another wolf for a chance at Marcus’ position. It never ended the way the challengers thought it would, with them howling their victory over Marcus’ dead body. Nathan prayed to the gods that it never would, either. He couldn’t lose Marcus.

This particular wolf shouldn’t have been much of a challenge for Marcus, if one were to judge merely on size and power. But the wolf, called Drake, had something else on his side—a steely, unfaltering determination to live. Too bad he had broken a shifter law that wouldn’t allow him such a luxury. Even if he survived the challenge to Marcus’ authority, the pack could, by rights, tear him apart.

Nathan for damn sure would.

“You’re seething,” Aidan murmured beside him. Nathan cut him a glance before focusing back on Marcus. There was no need for him to comment. Aidan knew him well. “Marcus won’t lose,” Aidan continued. “I know my brother well. He is holding back, but he won’t for much longer if Drake doesn’t submit.”

“There’s no point in him submitting,” said Zane, Aidan’s mate, who sat on the other side of Aidan. “Drake has changed humans to shifters without their permission. He’s endangered shifters as a whole, and left Marcus with reluctant, and angry, shifters who would never have wanted what Drake did to them. Someone will have to kill him. That will be Marcus.”

“I don’t see why he has to be killed. Why can’t he just be monitored or imprisoned?”

That question from Gabe finally got Nathan to speak, though he didn’t look away from the battle in front of him. “You see so many shifter prisons. I’m afraid they’re all full right now.”

“Ass,” Gabe muttered. “So make a fuckin’ prison. We don’t have to be so…so brutal.”