Author: Tiffany Reisz

“Oh, message from Søren, Nora,” Griffin said, pausing in the doorway.

“Good Lord, what?” she asked.

“He said you’re in trouble for going to the party in the city. Told you to stay upstate and out of trouble. So he’s punishing you.”

Nora rolled her eyes.

“Goddammit.” Nora sounded horrified at the prospect of punishment. “Whatever. I’ll do it. What is it?”

“He said…” Griffin paused and Michael winced. Griffin seemed genuinely afraid to tell her. Michael hoped the pause would last forever. He had no idea what was about to happen between him and Griffin but something told him whatever it was, his life would never be the same again after.

“What?” Nora demanded, her voice edged with anger.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

Michael suddenly feared Nora’s punishment more than whatever Griffin had planned for him.

“Griffin…just tell me.” Nora gave him a cold, hard stare.

Griffin exhaled heavily.

“Søren said you have to visit your mother.”

Michael almost laughed out loud with sheer relief. But Nora’s face fell and she raised her hand to her forehead.

“Goddamn motherfucking sadist.”

“Good luck,” Griffin said as he beat a swift retreat, dragging Michael with him by the back of his T-shirt.

“What’s wrong with Nora’s mom?” Michael asked as they neared Griffin’s bedroom.

“They don’t like each other.”

“But why do—”

Michael’s question died on his lips as Griffin grabbed Michael by the shoulders and pushed him firmly but gently into his bedroom door. Digging his hands in Michael’s hair, Griffin forced Michael to meet his eyes.

“Do not speak again until I give you permission.”

Michael opened his mouth in an automatic “Yes, sir” but remembered himself and stayed silent.

“Good boy. Now go. In my bed. Right now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Michael threw open the doors to Griffin’s bedroom, pulled the covers back and slid into the bed. He did nothing else.

Griffin yanked off his leather motorcycle jacket, stripped down to his boxer briefs and threw himself into bed next to Michael.

Rolling onto his back, Griffin grabbed Michael and pulled him hard to his chest.

“Now go to sleep,” Griffin ordered. Michael raised his head and stared at him. Griffin met his eyes and then burst into laughter.

“Seriously?” Michael asked, breaking the no-talking rule.

“I’m exhausted. Haven’t slept all night. I love you too much to lay a hand on you like this. Now shut up, sub, and go to sleep.”

Michael nodded and laid his head down on the center of Griffin’s chest. He’d only slept an hour or two himself last night. But something Griffin said forced Michael’s head back up again.

“You love me?” he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Griffin brought his mouth to Michael’s. For what felt like a year but probably lasted no more than a minute, Michael was subjected to the softest yet deepest, most intimate kiss of his life. With the most expert touches of his tongue, Griffin managed to set every nerve in Michael’s body firing with only his mouth on Michael’s mouth.

“Yes,” Griffin said, finally ending the kiss with the most erotic smile Michael had ever seen in his life. “Now go to sleep.”

Michael pressed his entire body to Griffin’s and luxuriated in the warmth of his chest through the soft fabric of his white T-shirt. Right before falling asleep, Michael whispered the two words he’d been waiting to say since the moment he’d met Griffin.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Nora stared at herself in the mirror and cursed at her reflection. She hadn’t seen her mother in over six years and here she was trying to decide if her mother would approve of her outfit. Last thing she wanted was to provoke a fight by showing up in any clothes that even remotely hinted at the woman Nora had become. She’d left her mother’s protection and returned to the city, returned to the world her mother had prayed her daughter would one day leave behind.

Jeans. Basic jeans. A white blouse buttoned up to a respectable level. Boots with a low heel. Hair in a ponytail. Almost no makeup. Surely that would be good enough, tame enough, vanilla enough for her mother.

Nora got into her BMW and headed out at near-breakneck speed. She wanted to get this punishment over with as soon as possible. Being here in Guilford so close to where her mother had moved had been a mistake. She should have known at some point Søren would order her to visit her mother. They’d been friends once—Søren and her mom. When Nora was merely a troubled teenager everyone called Elle or Ellie, the sainted Father Stearns and her mother had worked together a time to two trying to tame her wild side. Of course, Søren’s methods had proven far more effective than her mother’s hectoring and disdain. Nora knew her mother always thought her daughter had far too much of her reprobate father in her. It had been a miracle her mother had taken her in at all that day Nora had shown up at the front door still cramping from the drugs she’d taken, shaking from the shock of running from the only man she’d ever loved.

But her mother had taken her in, sheltered her, fought to keep her there when the others questioned whether Nora belonged there or not.

“She left her lover,” her mother told the others who wanted her out. “He won’t come for her here. He can’t. He abused her. Physically.”

Although it turned Nora’s stomach to hear her mother tell the lie, she’d kept quiet, praying that the others would take pity on her and let her stay. And finally they had. Nora had been given her own room, chores to do, and orders to keep her head down and cause no trouble. She’d caused trouble, of course. Couldn’t be helped. It was her nature. In her loneliness there at the house, she started to write a story about a girl running away from a man. Nora could see the girl in her mind’s eye, see her racing through trees, turning her head back every few seconds to see who followed her. And Nora had whispered to the girl in her mind, “Don’t run. He’s the only one you don’t have to be afraid of....” And with that one sentence, that one idea, she’d written her first book,  The Runaway.

For that book alone, the book that changed her life, she’d be forever grateful for her year of limbo in that house with her mother. Søren once said that book had been her way of writing herself out of hell. But it hadn’t been hell in the house. Hell was leaving Søren. Hell was staying away from him. Behind the gates that Nora drove through…that was mere purgatory. And it was to purgatory she now returned.

Hell punished sin. Purgatory burned it away. She’d like to keep her sins, thank you very much. No matter how much they hurt.

Nora parked the car and headed for the main house. Finding the bell at the wrought-iron gate, Nora rang it and waited.

“Yes, child?” came a weak voice from an ancient face behind the gate.

“My name is Eleanor Schreiber.” Nora waited to see if the woman remembered her.

The old woman smiled and nodded.

“I’ll find her for you.”

“Thank you,” Nora said, entirely without gratitude.

She heard the sound of cloth scraping the ground as the woman shuffled down a hall. A few minutes later younger footsteps approached. A door at the side of the gate opened and two women stepped through—one in her eighties and one in her fifties.

“Sister Mary John, this is your visitor.”

The woman in her fifties heaved a deep sigh.

“Elle? What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mom.”

* * *

When Michael awoke, the morning rain had dissipated completely and warm white sunlight filled Griffin’s bedroom. He guessed he’d slept to about noon or later, slept deeper and better than he ever had in his life. Griffin’s chest made the best pillow in the world.

Michael laid his hand on Griffin’s rib cage and felt his heart beating steadily against his hand. How had this happened? What had he done to deserve the right to be in Griffin Fiske’s bed with his hand over Griffin’s heart? It seemed the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like a gift. Like a grace. And entirely without meaning to, Michael leaned up and dropped the smallest of kisses on Griffin’s lips.

The touch of their mouths caused Griffin to stir in his sleep. His dark eyelashes fluttered and opened. Michael froze.

“Sorry, sir,” he said in a panic.

“Never be sorry for kissing me, Mick. That’s an order.”

Michael grinned.

“Your orders are really easy to follow, sir.”

“Take your clothes off,” Griffin said without blinking or missing a beat.

Michael’s hands went numb.

“Okay, I take it back.”

Rolling up, Griffin cupped the side of Michael’s face. With his thumb he caressed the arch of Michael’s cheekbone. With his fingertips Griffin kneaded the soft skin underneath Michael’s ear.

“I’ll help.”

Reaching out, Griffin gathered the fabric of Michael’s T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up. Michael hesitated before lifting his arms to help the process along.

“I’m so fucking skinny and you’re so—”

Griffin clamped his hand over Michael’s mouth as he sent the T-shirt flying across the room.

“I have the most beautiful sub in the world in my bed. If you insult him, the punishment will be swift and severe.” Griffin gave Michael a stern glare. “Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael nodded in penitence even as his heart soared at Griffin’s words.

“I have wanted to do this for weeks.” Griffin ran his hands through Michael’s hair, down his neck and back, over his arms and down his chest and stomach. “Icing you up after your first night with Nora, I thought it would kill me. I’d never needed to touch someone or kiss someone so much in my life.”

“Really?” Michael’s mind boggled at the confession. He couldn’t believe the entire time he’d been aching for Griffin, Griffin had been equally pining for him.

“Really. Swear to God, Mick, it’s nearly killed me not to touch you for so long. Like this…” Griffin pressed his thumb into the hollow of Michael’s throat. “And this…” Griffin ran his hand down the center of Michael’s back from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. “And this…” Griffin pressed his hand between Michael’s legs and cupped his testicles. Michael inhaled and closed his eyes.

“We don’t…” Griffin began and stopped. “It’s a big deal, letting a guy inside you. We don’t have to do that yet. We can wait as long as you need or want. I don’t mind. There’s a lot of other stuff we can do. And I’m a little on the big side so I don’t want to hurt you. We can wait. We should wait.”

Michael opened his eyes and looked at Griffin.

“I want you inside me,” he said simply. He reached out and dug his fingers into Griffin’s biceps. “I will beg you for it if you order me to. And I’ll beg you for it even if you don’t.”

Griffin looked at Michael with an expression on his face he’d never seen before. No, he corrected. He had seen it. Often. On Father S’s face during prayer. It was love mingled with reverence. Reverence…for him?

The reverence quickly morphed to unabashed, unadulterated lust as Griffin gripped Michael’s shoulders and pushed him down hard onto his back. Their mouths met, their tongues intermingled…Griffin’s hips pushed into Michael’s. Michael trembled as he felt the full force of Griffin’s hunger for him pressed against his stomach. But he wanted this, needed this. All summer long he’d waited for this. He wouldn’t let fear stop him. He’d worry about what his father thought tomorrow, what the world would say. Today all that mattered was Griffin.