Page 7 of Getting Hitched
Gray nodded even though Jack couldn’t see him. “Mason, you okay?”
“Yes, sir, but I’d like to turn over. Please.”
“Shit.” Gray pulled out, and then Jack did too.
“Roll over on your stomach,” he ordered Mason.
His ass was bright red, and the welts were raised more than they’d been.
Gray laid a hand on Mason’s leg well below where he’d whipped him.
“I’m going to get some salve for you. Do you need anything else?”
“No, sir.” The words sounded far away, dreamy. He still needed time to come back to himself.
“Stay with him.”
“I will.” Jack bent and kissed Mason’s forehead.
“Love you,” Mason mumbled.
Gray smiled as he walked to the cabinet to get the healing salve for Mason’s ass and thighs. Even with good aftercare, Mason was going to be feeling that for a while. Good thing his work didn’t require him to sit all day.
A while later, Mason lay on his side on the couch. Jack sat on the end with Mason’s feet in his lap, and Gray sat in a recliner across from them.
“It’s too bad we’ll never plan another commitment ceremony after this,” Mason said.
Gray sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey. “What?”
“We can host big parties, though, maybe a Christmas one.”
“What the hell?” Gray almost pinched himself to see if he’d fallen asleep after sex.
Jack grinned. “If tonight is an example of what happens when you’re stressed out by planning, we need to do more of it.”
“Mmmhmm,” Mason agreed, his mouth full of the sandwich Gray insisted he eat.
Gray glared at them. “That’s cruel.”
Mason snickered, and Jack outright laughed. Then Jack said, “You’ve been so wonderfully impossible.”
“And you’ve been begging for an ass redder than his”—Gray gestured at Mason—“all night.”
“Maybe that’s because I like you like this.”
Gray huffed. “Tired. Pissed off. Regretting I ever brought up this ceremony idea?”
“Are you really?” Mason asked.
“Fuck, no.” He was, truthfully, really damn happy. “But I don’t need any of this party nonsense. I just want to make our relationship formal, not get all our friends liquored up and have to mingle with them.”
Jack rolled his eyes.
“Do you really not want our friends there?” Why did Mason always have to ask the pointed questions that forced Gray to relax his bluster?
“No, it’s just…” What could he say that didn’t make him sound terrible?
Jack frowned. “Gray, if you really?—”
