New Amsterdam: Earthquakes by Kelly Wyre

Author:Kelly Wyre [Wyre, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BDSM, Contemporary, LGBTTQ, Suspense
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2016-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Ellis

Saturday was busy at the range, so when Miss Maggie told Ellis to march his ass up to bed and sleep it off, he knew he must look bad. Probably as bad as he felt.

He was hurt. Tired. Confused. Weirdly numb. It was a lot like the flu, actually. He curled up in bed with Clarkisms dancing around in his head. Clark would say the best way to gain trust was to give it. So if, say, a lover shared a deep, dark secret, then that should inspire more trust, not less. But what happened when the secret was exactly as awful as deep, dark secrets should be? Most people’s shame was built on a shaky foundation. Bryn’s, Ellis feared, was built on stone.

But how could somebody who had done such horrible things be so…so… Ellis didn’t know how to describe it. He could only picture Bryn’s face in the bath, all open and scared and vulnerable. He’d looked like a rabbit about to bolt, not like some sadist about to slit Ellis’s throat. Ellis had met Bad men before. Bryn wasn’t Bad. He was Good.

Or maybe Ellis was Wrong. Could his sense of good and bad be that off? Had he hit his head in his sleep and woken up stupid when it came to judgment? Was he that off because of how he felt about Bryn? He knew he cared more about Bryn than he’d ever cared about anyone, except maybe Clark. Could that cloud his vision to the point that he’d overlook a little murderous intent?

Ellis tossed and turned. He envisioned Clark behind the bar at Glow, polishing a glass that didn’t need polishing, and telling him Clark’s Three Rules for the Bedroom. Rule one, the greatest tool anyone had was affection, so know when and how to use it. Rule two, the biggest organ needed was a brain, so know how to work it to one’s advantage. Rule three, the best thing anybody could do was use one’s mouth.

Clark’s bedroom rules applied equally to life. Ellis had given affection to Bryn, but he had no idea how what to make of the results. So that left using his mouth.

Ellis glanced at the clock. It was just past eight on the fourth Saturday of the month. That meant Clark would be at the poker game, which rotated locations. Ellis strained to think. Last month Kris Fawkes had hosted. Ellis didn’t like Fawkes. The man wasn’t just Bad; he was Horrid. But for some reason, Clark and Lucian hung out with him, so Fawkes was in on the game. He’d held it at that tea shop in the Fashion District that Fawkes owned. Kris Fawkes owning a tea shop made about as much sense as Hitler working in a yarn store, but whatever.

They didn’t do the game at Glow because Saturdays were too busy. Heather and Jeffrey and the rest of the staff at Glow would be handling the crowds. Clark didn’t do the game at his house.

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