[Siren Sensations: Contemporary Consensual BDSM Interracial Romance, M/M, F/F, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
You do not sleep with your best friend’s girlfriend. Especially not when you’re both extremely drunk on mead…and gay. Ron hoped the night with Eve was nothing more than a figment of his imagination that will never return to haunt him, or harm his friendship with Kimbra.
Except Kimbra also had a regretful drunken interlude she hoped would never see the light of day.
Enter the adorable Dr. Ivan Mercado, who carefully conceals deeply tragic personal truths. The young and talented surgeon leads a secret double life to deal with his darkest pain and has never let anyone inside his armor before. Until he meets Ron, and the Viking Dom easily peels away Ivan’s shell without even trying.
But actions have consequences—ones that can last a lifetime. Will the worst mistake of Ron’s life turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to him? Or will it destroy both men’s lives and crush their hearts forever?
Tymber Dalton is a Siren-exclusive author.
Kimbra paid the bill after ordering herself another rum and Coke. She caught Ron’s attention, waved, and then left him to his new friends. The nice thing about the resort was since it was one whole property, you could take your drink and walk around with it.
That’s what she did.
As she wandered through the courtyard, she tried to get into the thumping bassline of the music, tried to keep time with the beat, but it just wasn’t happening tonight. She knew if she returned to her room she’d only sit there reading and moping and wishing she was out and about.
Without an outside distraction, resentment would start to seep in that Eve couldn’t be bothered to find time to spend with her.
Resentment already had started creeping in more frequently as of late, no matter how hard she tried to beat it back. No amount of rationalization that it was about Eve and not about her could completely eradicate it, either.
Now I understand what Walt felt like. Maybe this is my karma.
The twink she and Ron had seen earlier sauntered by and paused, approached her, a nearly empty drink cup in his hand.
“Hola, mami,” he said, giving her a long look. “Watchoo doin’ here?” He had an annoying, nasally, most likely fake accent that didn’t go well with his adorable body and sweet face.
“Probably same thing you are.”
“Choo single? ’Cause if choo are, maybe I can help tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m single.” She switched to Spanish. “Are you even eighteen yet?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
Kimbra took another sip of her drink and tipped her head as she appraised him. “I bet my friend Ron could tear your ass up in bed and leave you begging for more. He’s hung like a horse, I’m pretty sure. He’s single and looking. Want an introduction?”
He shook his head. “I’m not readin’ choo. Choo speak English?”
She switched back to English. “Why you callin’ me your mami if you can’t even habla the lingo?”
“Oooh, choo sassy. I like dat.”
His fake accent was pissing her off. “Watch it, baby, or I’ll spank your ass.”
Used to observing people closely during depositions and questioning and while testifying, she spotted the shift in his gaze immediately. A nearly desperate hunger that didn’t strike her as sexual appeared in his eyes.
Like “rescue me” desperate.
He stepped closer, his gaze locked on hers now. He stood maybe five-seven, and she was five-eight. “Maybe I’d like for choo to spank my ass, hmm?” He reached out and traced a finger along her belt buckle. “I’d make it worth choo while.”
“I ain’t no hooker, baby.”
“Di’n’ mean dat.” He closed the distance, so close she could smell the rum on his breath and the sad desperation that nearly washed off him. “Might be gay, but not stupid ’nough to turn down a legit spankin’ from someone hot as choo. I got soda an’ rum back in my room. Choo spank me, really spank me…” He smiled and flicked his tongue over his upper lip in an unmistakable gesture. “I make choo happy.”
She pointed her other hand over her shoulder, waving it toward the general direction of the leather bar off one corner of the courtyard. “You could have leather Tops on your ass as well as in it. Why me?”
His nostrils flared just a little, and she spotted how his throat worked as he swallowed. “Maybe I’m not lookin’ for someone in my ass tonight. Maybe I need to trust someone. Choo look like someone I can trust.” He wrapped his mouth around the straw in his drink again and took a seductive pull off it, making sure to lick his lips.
Part of her brain screamed at her to smile and say no thanks.
That part was kicked out by the rum and her clit, which thought this was a mighty fine idea. “You better be at least twenty-one.”
“And can prove it.”
“ID’s in my room.”
She glanced back to where Ron was still chatting away with the ginger and the man’s friends.
Fuck it. Maybe she’d never even have to admit to Ron that she snagged the cutie if he scored with the redhead and was too busy wrapped up in his own rut.
“Lead the way, sugar.”
* * * *
His room was poolside on the second floor in the northern building, almost exactly directly across the courtyard from hers. As she followed him up the stairs, she couldn’t help but stare at his cute, tight little ass in his Speedo.
He knew she was watching, because halfway up he stopped and cast a smile at her over his shoulder. “Choo like what choo see?”
She stepped up next to him and smacked his ass, hard, not holding back.
He rubbed the spot. “Ow! Motherfucker.”
She sweetly smiled. “Well, well, well. If you want your spanking, honey, stick with your real voice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered before he continued on up the stairs.
But she spotted a hunger in his eyes that he hadn’t possessed before.
She waited until they were inside the room to grill him. “Why the fake accent, kiddo?”
“Sorry. Kind of the persona. Sometimes helps me find guys easier.” This voice fit him perfectly and aged him a little. He was probably much closer to thirty than twenty, despite his looks.
His room was a single king like hers, and the same blue walls. He’d left the bedside lamp on, so while it was dim, there was still enough light to see by. He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a two-liter bottle of soda. The bottle of rum sat on the dresser, and the ice bucket had been recently filled. He reached for her cup.
“Now, see? Your real voice is perfectly fine.” She finished off the last dregs of that drink and handed her cup over. He added ice but before he could splash rum into it, she stopped him. “Lemme see your ID, honey.”
He rolled his gorgeous light green eyes, but set everything down and dug a wallet out of the bag on the floor on the other side of the bed, removed his ID, and handed it over.
The Florida driver’s license definitively stated he was a safe driver, an organ donor—and was, in fact, thirty-four.
Closer examination of it led her to believe it was genuine.
“Damn, boy. You look good for your age.” She pulled out her phone. “Ivan Gonzales Mercado. Helloooo, sweetie.” She took a picture of his ID.
Ron wanted to spend all night loving Ivan, but even this was pushing the envelope way too fucking far. He should have grabbed his own shit, headed to Meri’s bedroom, and not done…this.
Any of this. Not tonight, without a lot of clear-headed talking and negotiating first.
Then there was the protective Dom side who said fuck that, his boy needed him.
He’d be kidding himself to deny he wasn’t already thinking of Ivan in terms of him being his.
They were both consenting adults, there literally wasn’t a better person to understand the headspace they were in than each other, and dammit, the guy was a cutie. Besides, Ivan’s previous MO was to find and pick up people to spank him, and then he’d have sex with them in return. People he’d never see again.
Why not him, and why not now?
Ron slowly stroked their cocks, watching Ivan’s eyes as he did, not wanting to miss a second of the other man’s reaction. It was like his soul opened, raw and bare, as wispy and fragile as the steam now swirling around them in the shower.
Watching Ivan helped Ron hold back his own release. Ivan’s cock was thinner and a little bit shorter than his own, but that meant he could fit them both in his fist and still hold on to his boy, too.
There were a lot of things it seemed Ron was unable to do around Ivan.
Like resist him.
He slanted his lips over Ivan’s and kissed him, his cock throbbing as Ivan moaned in return and he reached up, one hand cupping the back of Ron’s neck, the other in Ron’s hair and holding him in place as they kissed.
Perfection flashed through Ron’s mind, the two of them together, thinking about how Ivan would look riding his cock in a variety of ways, walking along the beach with him, cooking dinner together.
Going through the birth of their children together.
Ron sucked on Ivan’s tongue, nibbled and bit his lips, devoured him thoroughly as he stroked their cocks. Nothing about this situation was sane or normal or the slightest bit wise, but he was going for it.
Because maybe he and Ivan wouldn’t make it for the long-run.
They had to start somewhere, and why not tonight when they were already in the middle of the storm?
At least they could try to weather it together.
* * * *
It took every ounce of will Ivan had to not immediately come. The feel of Ron’s warm, strong, slightly rough hand around his cock threatened to make him explode immediately.
And he wanted this to last, for at least a little while.
He didn’t know how long this situation would last overall, and he wanted at least one damn memory he could hold on to.
One small moment of perfection.
With their cocks pressed together like this, it added a layer of sweet, hot sensation to the mix. No one had ever jerked him off like this before, with their cocks pressed together, and it felt absolutely amazing. Pre-cum spilled from both their cocks and Ron used it, slicking it down their shafts as he stroked.
Ron lifted his mouth from Ivan’s despite Ivan trying to maintain their kiss.
“Show me what a good boy you are for me and come for me, baby.”
Ivan couldn’t have resisted that if he’d wanted. His balls drew up tight against his body as a sweet, piercing ache that blossomed into full pleasure shot through him. Ron’s hand grew even slicker around their cocks with Ivan’s cum lubing his grip. Ivan could barely keep his eyes open, watching Ron watch him, feeling for the first time like he was plugged into someone else’s soul.
Or they were plugged into his.
The sexiest smile to ever curve a set of lips filled Ron’s face. “Good boy.” He crushed Ivan’s mouth again. Then the arm around Ivan’s back tightened as Ron let out a low, sweet grunt of his own as he climaxed. His hand slowed, stopped, still holding both their cocks pressed together. His kiss grew tender, slow, satiated.
But he didn’t let go.
His eyes fell closed and he finally ended their kiss, their foreheads pressed together.
Ivan didn’t want to release him, either.
Ron finally spoke, his voice hoarse, soft. “Your choice. I can sleep in Meri’s bed, or—”
“Please sleep with me, Sir.”
Ron’s eyes opened and he studied Ivan’s gaze for a long moment before he nodded. “Okay, baby. I had every intention of taking this slow and not rushing this, I swear I did.”
“I didn’t want it slow.”
“We’ve got a lot of talking we need to do.”
“I know, Sir.” Even calling him that felt…natural.
For one damn time in his life, something felt easy and unforced and like it was supposed to be that way.
Everything about Ron felt like that, so far.
That fucking terrified him.