Endings and Beginnings Page 36

  When they reached the front door, Pietro knocked. And knocked again. And again.

  “No one is going to answer,” Miles said calmly as he reached him.

  Anger surged through Pietro. First his day with no Miles, now this. “Where are they? What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

  Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “Here, use this.”

  The key slid into the lock and opened with a click. Pietro pushed the door open.

  “Turn on the lights,” Miles said, his voice sounding strange.

  Pietro reached over and flicked the lights on, then stared in awe. The hallway looked different from the last time he’d seen it, now that it was furnished, Miles’s rosewood table standing by the—

  Whoa. Wait a minute….

  He turned to Miles. “Did you give Melissa your hall table?” His throat tightened. “I helped you choose that.”

  Miles said nothing, but stood there, a strange look on his face. And now that Pietro began to really take in his surroundings, he noticed a small painting on the wall, one that Miles had bought not long after they’d got together.

  Something’s going on here.

  Pietro walked slowly into the lounge and froze. The room was furnished, but what drew his eye was the print above the fireplace. It was one of the photos Miles had taken of him, stretched out on his bed, with nothing but a white sheet covering his—

  “What’s going on?” He peered at the two sofas—Miles’s sofas. Come to think of it, everything in the room he’d seen at one point or another, in Miles’s flat.

  He turned to Miles, heart pounding. “Miles?”

  Miles leaned forward and took Pietro’s breath away with a harsh kiss. When he leaned back, he whispered, “Welcome home, love.”

  Pietro was dizzy, a fluttering deep in his belly. “Home?”

  Miles nodded. “Our home.” He gave Pietro a sheepish grin. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Surprise me? This is not a surprise. This is the sneakiest, most devious, duplicitous—”

  Miles cocked his head. “Don’t all those words kinda mean the same thing?” That grin was still there.

  Pietro glared at him. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll think up some more.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. We came to see this for Melissa.”

  Miles bit his lip. Pietro had never seen him embarrassed, and it was adorable. “Yeah, well, about that. Melissa was in on it the whole time. I wanted to find us a house, but I wanted to make sure you liked it.”

  “You could have just said, ‘Hey, Pietro, wanna move in with me? Let’s go find a house!’” Pietro groaned. “You didn’t have to be so….”

  “Sneaky?” Miles suggested, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, but that would have been boring.”

  “But… I mean…. Melissa and Tony, they needed a bigger house….” Pietro couldn’t get his head around the whole situation.

  Miles grinned. “Er, baby? When Melissa first spoke to you about wanting to find a house? They’d already found one. They moved three weeks ago. That’s why you haven’t heard from her. One, she was up to her eyeballs in moving, and two, it wasn’t as if you could go round and visit her, right? That would have given the game away.” He pulled Pietro into his arms. “So, you gonna move in with me, pup?” His voice was suddenly husky, an edge of raw emotion to it.

  “Are you asking me as your sub or your lover?” Pietro wanted to establish where he stood.

  Miles kissed him, slowly exploring him with his tongue like they had all the time in the world. When he drew back, he locked gazes with Pietro. “I’m asking the man I want to share my life with. I don’t want us to be apart any longer. I want you here, as my lover, my partner—and when we want to play, my sub.” He stared at Pietro, those dark eyes almost black. “I love you, Pietro. Live with me?”

  “Yes,” Pietro whispered, his heartbeat racing.

  Miles beamed. “I think you just made my year.” He leaned closer and licked a line down Pietro’s neck, making him shudder. “I think we should christen the house,” he whispered, his breath tickling Pietro’s ear.

  “Yeah?” Pietro couldn’t think clearly, not when Miles was sending shivers down his spine and blood surging into his dick. “Where should we start?” Then the breath left his body when Miles picked him up and lowered him gently onto the rug in front of the fire.

  “How about right here?”

  PIETRO STILL had trouble believing he and Miles had a home together. He was also feeling incredibly sated and so relaxed, Miles would have to pour him into the car to go back to the flat and start packing. He ran through a mental checklist in his head of all the rooms they’d made love in during the last four hours. He grinned; there were still a few to go.

  They were curled up on the sofa, basking in the glow of the roaring fire, and he’d never been so happy. Miles was toying with his hair, sighs of contentment escaping him every now and then. Pietro could have lain like that for hours.

  “Oh well,” Miles said at last. “All good things must come to an end, I suppose.”

  Pietro sat upright. “You’ve changed your mind already? I’m not moving in?” he joked.

  Miles chuckled. “Oh, no change there, but we do have to get ready for the party.”

  Pietro nodded absently and then stiffened as Miles’s words sank in. “Party?” The word came out as a squeak.

  “Oh, didn’t I mention it?” Miles said with a cocky grin. “A few people will be stopping over for a housewarming.”

  Pietro folded his arms. “Define ‘a few’ for me.”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Shouldn’t be more than fifteen. Maybe twenty. Possibly thirty. I let the club know.”

  Pietro gaped. “You’re telling me that possibly thirty people are going to turn up on our doorstep this evening? When?”

  Miles glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “In just under three hours, give or take.”

  Pietro lurched up from the couch. “And you’re telling me this now? After we’ve spent all afternoon fucking our brains out? We should have been getting this place ready.” He put his hands on his hips. “What do you intend feeding them?”

  Miles might be the Dom, but that didn’t stop his face from flushing. “I bought a load of finger food from Tesco’s. It’s in the fridge.”

  Pietro made a growling noise at the back of his throat and marched into the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge door and stared in dismay at the boxes on the shelves. Miles caught up with him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Pietro whirled around to glare at him. “Your partner is a chef. A chef who makes food that is way better than this… fodder. And you didn’t think to ask me for help?” He pushed past Miles and stormed into the hallway, spying the car keys on the table. He picked them up and tossed them to Miles. “Grab your jacket.”

  “Are we going somewhere?” Miles asked, an amused expression on his face.

  Pietro scowled. “We are going shopping so that I can make enough food for the hordes of locusts that are about to descend on us.”

  When Miles opened his mouth to speak, Pietro held up his hand.

  “Not now. We don’t have time. For the next couple of hours, I’m in charge. Got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the front door.

  Men. Can’t live with ’em, can’t kill them legally.

  FOUR HOURS later he was in the kitchen. He’d been there since they’d arrived home with several bags of shopping. My first night in our new home and I’m up to my armpits in canapés and quiche. He kept telling himself he wasn’t upset. Not that it would do any good even if he were. He took a deep, steadying breath and put the next tray of canapés into the oven.

  That bloody doorbell kept ringing, with yet more and more guests arriving. Everyone was in the lounge, chatting and complimenting Miles on the delicious food. And the bastard stood there and soaked in all the praise.

  You wait till they’ve gone, mate. Miles was going to have one mightily pi
ssed off sub on his hands.

  Miles poked his head around the door. “Everything going okay in here?”

  Pietro stared at him in disbelief. “Going okay? I’m running my arse off in here.”

  Miles came into the kitchen and cupped his chin. “You’re doing a great job.” He gave him a peck on the lips. “And your arse looks like it’s in great shape too.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “This is my party too, you know.” Like he could enjoy it when he was stuck in there, making sure the five thousand were fed.

  “Then come and mingle,” Miles suggested.

  Pietro’s mouth fell open. “Mingle? I won’t be mingling. I’ll be serving food. And I can’t be out there serving and in here making it at the same time.” Pietro hated the whine he knew was there, but damn it, he needed help.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

  “Ah, good. That’s the last of the guests. Do be a good lad and go let them in, okay?” And with that, Miles turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  Oh, he has to be fucking kidding.

  Pietro ripped off his apron and stormed to the door. He yanked it open to find a motley crew of subs standing under the light.

  “Yes?” he fired at them. Then he took a calming breath. “Sorry. Come in.”

  Alex, Peter, Scott, Dorian, JJ, Gareth, and Jeff stepped into the brightly lit hallway, Jarod bringing up the rear. All of his friends had equal looks of discomfort on their faces, and Pietro knew that was down to him.

  “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t know this was going to happen, and I’m being run ragged. Could you guys come in and help me pass around the hors d’oeuvres?”

  “What?” Alex complained. “We’re invited guests. Besides, that’s my day job, and this is my night off.”

  “Mine too!” Pietro put his hands on his hips. He’d been at the end of his tether all evening, and this felt like the last straw. “Fine, forget it. Go have fun,” he snapped.

  Alex stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. Pietro let himself be held, some of his tension dissipating.

  “You know I’m kidding,” Alex said quietly. “We’d be happy to help, right, guys?”

  There were nods from the others.

  “Excellent” came a voice from behind them. Pietro turned around to find Miles standing there holding several jock straps in his hand. He tossed them to Alex and gave a chuckle. “And if you’re going to be helping, you should at least dress the part.” He met Pietro’s gaze. “You included.”

  The penny dropped. Pietro turned and glared at his Dom. “You set this up,” Pietro accused.

  “He had help,” Leo called out from the hallway. “Now get dressed. Or is that undressed? Some of us are peckish.” Laughter rebounded around the hallway. Leo was clearly not alone.

  Alex laughed. “Oh, come on, this’ll be fun.” He held out the jock straps, and everyone grabbed one. The only person who didn’t take one was Jeff, and by his expression, Pietro knew that wasn’t about to happen.

  “Jeff?” Damian stood in the kitchen doorway, Darren behind him. Damian had a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “No,” Jeff said bluntly, folding his arms across his chest.

  Damian actually pouted. “Oh, but you’d look so sexy with your plump arsecheeks hanging out while you served the food and drink.”

  Jeff’s eyes blazed. “I’m not a submissive. I don’t want people looking at my arse. The answer is no, and that’s final.”

  Damian grinned and stepped into the kitchen while Jeff took a backward step away from him. “I’ll tell you what. You do this for me and I’ll let you have a get out of jail free card. No spanking for your next punishment. Which, if memory serves me, should be a doozy, considering your language the other night.”

  “But we were having sex,” Jeff hissed. “You can’t count swearing during sex for a punishment.”

  “And I won’t if you wear the jockstrap.”

  Jeff’s gaze narrowed. “You’re an evil bas—bad man.”

  Damian nodded gleefully. “Remember, sweetheart, you may not be a sub, but I’m still a Dom. So, will you wear the jock for me?”

  Jeff grumbled, then glared at Damian. “Fine. I’ll do this, but then I don’t have to get you a Christmas gift. And you owe me one of my choice.”

  “Deal!” Damian said, holding out his hand. Jeff shook it, then turned to his friends and sighed. Damian patted Jeff on the behind. “Now get changed.” He walked off into the lounge.

  JJ eyed the jock strap warily. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Darren leaned against the doorjamb. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I did bring a pair of your shorts from home. You could wear those instead.” He smiled. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  JJ’s gaze went from Darren to the shiny black jock strap in his hand, and finally to the others. He gave a shrug. “What the hell. It’s a party.”

  Darren came across and kissed him. “Good boy. I’ll see you out there.” One last smile and he followed Damian into the lounge.

  “You boys can change in the master bedroom,” Miles called out. “And do be quick. Our guests are eager for the show.”

  “Our guests can wait,” Pietro told him with a scowl. He led them upstairs to the bedroom, where they all began to strip off their clothing.

  “This will be fun!” Scott said happily.

  “I swear, nothing brings you down,” Pietro grumbled.

  “This is ridiculous,” Jeff complained, holding up the jock strap.

  “You didn’t dance with us, so it’s the least you can do,” Alex said emphatically.

  “Oh my God, you’re all such a bunch of prima donnas,” Pietro hissed. “Just put on the damn jocks and let’s go. If my canapés burn, I’m going to be pissed off.”

  There were giggles and groans as they slipped into the incredibly tight jockstraps.

  “This is so tight,” Jeff groused, squeezing into it.

  “I think that’s kind of the point,” Jarod told him. “I know you’re not a submissive to Damian, but for tonight, can’t you just let go and have some fun? As you can see, we’re all going to be with you, so you don’t have to worry about being the only one.”

  Jeff blew out a breath. “I want a secondhand car for my birthday,” he said. “And this will get me one.”

  “See, that’s the spirit,” Jarod said with a grin.

  They finished dressing and began to move toward the door when Jeff called out, “Guys? Can you hang on a minute?”

  They turned toward him, and Pietro noticed his pale skin and the slight shiver that shook his body. “You okay? If this is going to be a problem, you don’t have to—”

  “No, it’s not that. I… I need to say something to JJ, and I’d rather do it up here.”

  “To me?” JJ stilled.

  Jeff nodded and took a deep breath. “For the last few weeks, Damian and Laura Herne have been working with me to overcome my anger about Curtis. Leo told Damian that he was your father.”

  JJ nodded, swallowing. Jeff huffed out a breath.

  “It turns out I buried a lot of rage deep down. I said some things I’m ashamed of, because it was never about you. All the hurt was about me. I never gave a thought to what you were going through.” He sighed. “I’m still not over it. I don’t know that I ever will be, but I wanted you to know I’m very sorry for my thoughts toward you.”

  JJ walked over to him. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I get it, really. I don’t hate Curtis, because I never knew him. But I do hate what he did to you guys. I wish I could take away the pain, but I have to accept I can’t make up for what he did. I can only try to make your lives better by being your friend. If you’ll have me.”

  The moment stretched out, with JJ and Jeff staring at one another. Pietro worried that something would happen and he’d have to break them up, but Jeff held out his hand.

  “I think I could use a new friend. But it might take me some time to not be an arse.”
>
  “That’s fine,” JJ said, shaking Jeff’s hand. “I have time.” He grinned. “And I’ve been an arse myself lately.”

  Dorian sniffed the air. “I don’t want to worry you, Pietro, but… can you smell burning?”

  “Argh!” With an anguished yell, Pietro bolted through the door and down the stairs, the others right behind him. He yanked open the oven door and used the oven mitt to pull out the cremated canapés.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” he wailed. “This night was supposed to be perfect. We finally moved in together, and it should have been an amazing night.” He tossed them into the sink, where the tray hissed and steam billowed up into the air.

  “Can you boys excuse us?” Miles asked from the kitchen door. “There are some trays of drinks on the bar if you’d be so kind as to pass them around.”

  One by one the subs filed out, each giving Pietro a sympathetic glance or smile.

  Miles hurried over to Pietro and swept him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Pietro whispered, burying his face in Miles’s broad chest. “I’m the one who burned it.”

  “And I’m the one who threw this at you last minute. I honestly never wanted to make you upset. Our friends wanted to get together to see our new house, and I thought it would be fun to make a party of it. Guess I cocked that one up.”

  Pietro turned his attention to Miles. The man had bought a house for them, for God’s sake. He’d done it to make a life for the two of them, just the way Pietro had been wanting. He’d had busier nights at Severino’s, so why was he such a mess here in his own home?

  Then it struck him. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he said simply. “I wanted tonight to be perfect for you, because when you told me this was our home, you made it perfect for me. I’m sorry I messed it up.”

  “You didn’t. I promise.” Miles hugged him tight. “Everyone out there thinks you’re an amazing chef. The spread you put together with just a little notice rivals anything they’d have at a five-star restaurant. You’re gifted, and they’re very pleased to be the recipients of those gifts. And I’m proud to be here while you shine.” He grinned. “Speaking of shining, you may want to get your pretty arse out there and show it off, because once everyone leaves, it’s all mine. Just like it will be for the rest of our lives. I love you, Pietro.”