Page 94 of Dangle

ID. Questions. Aaron. Got it.

My phone buzzed with a call. A photo of me sprawled across Slone’s chest filled the screen.

“Are you here? Aaron was supposed to text when you arrived.”

“I’m at the gate. Aaron is checking my ID. Any place special I should park when I get to the house?”

“All the way forward in the driveway and as far away from the garage doors as possible. The guests tomorrow will be drivenin, so making room for extra cars isn’t an issue, but the caterers and vendors will be in and out during the early part of the day.”

Jesus, that sounded pretentious even to my ears, and I grew up this way.

“Sounds easy enough. By the way, who knew there were this many trees so close to Manhattan?”

I laughed and said, “I’ll be waiting for you on the back stoop next to the garage.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

The call disconnected, and I raced down the back stairs to the kitchen and out the mudroom door, pausing to disable the security system. Excitement filled me, and I couldn’t wait to be back in his arms, to feel safe and protected the way he’d made me feel since the morning I woke up to aDon’t Panicnote. A note I mourned the loss of during the time we were apart. I had the bigger prize now, though. I had the man. The big, sexy, possessive, sweet, kind, kinky man who made my blood boil and my?—

Gravel crunched softly, breaking off the inner monologue about the sexy man driving up to the house. Unable to stay put, I tore across the gravel, chasing the car like a dog. The minute he pulled to a stop, I yanked open the door, and he surged out of the car and pulled me to him. The weight of the world and the cold, harsh, unloving, critical reality of being a Malachek fell away. In his arms, I was just Trey, the baby boy, cum dumpster, cockwarming slut to Abraham Slone, a Marine who gave me more than I ever dreamed I could have or was even possible.

“Hello, baby boy. I missed you,” he whispered when he pulled his face from the crook of my neck and cupped my face.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” I whispered back before pressing my lips to his.

“Trey?”

“Fuck,” I muttered, looking up at Slone before glancing at the mudroom door where my mother stood.

“Hey, Mama. This is my…” Oh shit, how did you introduce your Daddy Dom to your parents? Maybe I should’ve researched that while I paced my bedroom waiting for the man to arrive.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Slone. Trey’s boyfriend,” Slone said, walking over to Mama with his hand outstretched.

“Oksana Petrova Malachek,” Mama said as she shook Slone’s hand. Without releasing it, she turned to me. “Trey, you didn’t mention you were seeing someone or that they would be attending the festivities.”

“Sorry, Mama. It was last minute. Slone didn’t know if he could make it until a few hours ago.”

“Hmm. Well, alright then. Do you have bags, Mr…?”

“Slone,” he said as I ran back to the car to grab his bags and shut the driver’s door.

“Your name is Slone Slone?” Mama asked with wide eyes, glancing between Slone and me as I stopped with his luggage next to him.

Slone laughed, but if you didn’t know him as well as I did, you wouldn’t know it wasn’t his real laugh. “No ma’am. Slone is my last name. No one but my mama uses my given name. Too long spent in the Marines.”

“You’re a soldier?” she asked, and I giggled.

“Serving one’s country isn’t to be laughed at, Trey,” she said.

Through more giggles after looking at the soft,realsmile tugging at Slone’s face, I said, “No, Mama, it isn’t. It’s an inside joke. Soldiers and Marines arenotthe same thing, I’ve learned.”

She hummed, then waved us into the house. Slone looked at me, and I giggled again as we followed Mama into the house, Slone’s hand on my back.

She stopped in the kitchen and sighed. “I don’t know what to do or where we can put him. Marta has gone to bed, and none of the rooms?—”

“He’s staying with me. He doesn’t need a room of his own.”

Her eyes rounded, “That…that isn’t…your father…”