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With his arm still around her, Chloe reached for her son and put him to her breast. The baby quieted and suckled eagerly. Brendan found his gaze drawn to the tiny hands that held onto his mother’s plump breast and he swallowed. He’d seen her nurse the baby before, but never up close like this. It was beautiful.
Jesse sat on the other side his wife. He kissed her cheek and his son’s baby curls before he joined Brendan with an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, babe. I tried to give him the bottle of milk you left, but he wasn’t having it. He wanted you.”
“Do you blame him?” Brendan smiled.
Given the choice, who wouldn’t prefer suckling from a lovely breast? He was certainly a fan of them.
“Nope.” Jesse grinned. “Tay wants you to come over—we’re gonna grill some burgers or something and watch the game outside while the weather’s still nice.”
“You mean you’re going to watch the game. Nobody likes to watch the Cubs lose except you, Jess.”
“It’s football now, babe.” Jesse smacked a kiss to her lips. “Everybody watches football on Sunday.”
“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t have anything planned and the club was closed tonight. “I have some shit I need to run by Tay anyway.”
“About the studio?”
No.
Brendan just smirked. The renovations across the street were the last thing on his mind. They were almost finished and Venery was almost ready to record their next album there—the first one under their own label. It was best if that’s what his cousin assumed, though. For now.
“I’ll call Linn. See if she and Ky want to come over—Dillon too.”
“Already did, babe.”
Dillon was a no-show. Brendan wasn’t surprised. Knowing him, he was probably still pissed, and rather than face his shit went out to lick his wounds inside some random pussy. Not that he blamed him. He’d probably do the same. A tight, warm hole to wet your dick in made everything better, didn’t it?
Usually.
He was kicked back on one of the patio loungers with a beer in his hand. Brendan wasn’t really drinking it. Even though his gaze was on the outdoor screen, he wasn’t really watching the game either. Kyan and Linnea cuddled together on one of the sofas. He trailed his fingers across her skin. Slipped them inside her shirt when he thought no one was looking. The happy trio shared the other sofa. Taylor had his back propped against the arm with some pillows. Like a triple-layer cake, Jesse lounged between his thighs and Chloe was wedged between Jesse’s. He imagined they fucked that way too.
He shook the image from his head.
Why had he recently decided the club didn’t need to be open seven nights a week? Because he was tired. Because after Salena, he didn’t trust anyone. If he wasn’t there, the red doors were closed. Right now, Brendan was kicking himself in the ass for it. His cousins held warm flesh while he held a warm beer.
‘There’s someone out there who will love you…’
Shut up, Chloe.
It was halftime when Linnea followed Chloe in the house to get her baby fix. Kyan had a dopey grin on his face, probably thinking of making his own babies—or practicing at it. God, he needed to get out of here.
“Someone outed the mayor to his wife,” Kyan recounted with a smirk. “Ran into him when I was pulling permits at city hall on Friday.”
That got his attention and explained why the mayor and his girlfriend hadn’t been at the club. Yeah, the mayor had a wife and a girlfriend, but then the mayor was into some kinky shit and his wife was probably as vanilla as tapioca pudding. Not that Brendan condoned fucking around on your spouse behind their back. He didn’t. At all. He hated liars and he hated cheats. Honesty was the only way to go. Either find a partner whose desires complemented your own or stay the fuck single like he did. But it wasn’t his place to impose his morals on anyone else.
The only thing Brendan provided was a safe haven, a positive environment, for club members to explore their sexuality—their desires, fetishes, and kinks, whatever they might be. Explicit consent, safe practices, and discretion were the only rules. Members had the freedom to partake in whatever they wanted to. No recrimination. No questions. No judgment. They paid a helluva lot of money for the freedom they found, and to keep the secrets they guarded, behind the red door.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah,” Kyan confirmed. “Apparently she got an envelope of eight-by-ten glossies in the mail and filed for divorce the same day.”
Shit.
Taylor and Jesse both eyed him warily, but it was Taylor who spoke. “Salena?”
Kyan nodded. “Crossed my mind too.”
“Maybe,” he conceded.
