1 Chapter 1

Taren Murdoch was, at heart, a caretaker and protector. His profession evidenced his drive to protect. He was an investigator for the Idaho State Police. That instinct also made him an excellent Dom. It wasn’t everyone he sought to gratify, however. In fact, there was only one man who Taren worried about pleasing, his husband, and sub, Ian.

At the time Taren didn’t realize it, but the day he pulled a half frozen, hungry, scared twenty-something kid out of a wrecked car during a blizzard was the most significant day of his life. The ironic thing was Taren had lived in Idaho all of two weeks and Ian had been born here. If anyone should’ve been stranded in that blizzard it was Taren.

What started as a rescue ended as a first date. Two years later Taren married the guy. Ian was not his usual type, but wasn’t that the way love worked? Ian was young, much younger than Taren, but not immature. He was a smart, interesting man who knew exactly what he wanted. A little bit of a perfectionist, but that was what made him a superb CEO and likely got him through Warton with honors and an MBA. After they’d come to know each other, Ian confessed he’d wanted Taren as a lover and as a Dom, from that first blizzardy day.

One of Taren’s favorite pastimes was observing Ian. He leaned in the doorway of their bathroom and watched Ian as he prepared for work. Ian was lean and graceful with black hair, eyes so brown it was difficult to see his pupils, and a sweet smile. Under the leather codpiece he wore a cage that encased his cock and balls in steel rings lined with small nubs. A leather strap rested above his hip bones and a second strap was strung through his legs, between his ass cheeks and buckled tight at the small of his back. Ian had a narrow prostate massager in place as well, the effects of which would be concealed from the world by the codpiece.

The muscles of Ian’s back slid in graceful waves under his skin as he washed his face, then reached for his razor. Poetry in motion. Those were the words that often came to Taren’s mind when he watched Ian.

Clutching the handle of the straight edge—seriously, who used those things anymore?—Ian froze and looked in the mirror, meeting Taren’s eyes. Ian’s gaze flicked to the razor then back to Taren before he stood straight and lowered his gaze to the countertop between the double oval sinks.

Taren moved forward until he stood so close to Ian his jeans rubbed over Ian’s bare ass. He leaned around Ian, took the razor, and smiled at Ian’s reflection when he shivered. “Why don’t you use an electric one?” While he spoke, he loosened the buckles of the codpiece and let it drop to the floor and kissed Ian’s shoulder.

“I like the look this one gives.” Ian smiled softly. “It feels sexy.”

“I’m all for that. Aren’t you worried I’ll do this wrong?” Taren teased.

Ian gave his head one quick shake. Taren might have been the Dom, but it was Ian who was a bit of a control freak and pickier when it came to things like his appearance. Taren used his free hand under Ian’s chin to tilt his head back then reached for the shaving cream. He spread the thick liquid over Ian’s lower jaw and neck before shaking the excess off in the sink.

Taren slowly moved the razor in even strokes. He wound his other arm around Ian and used one finger, still slick with shaving cream to press against Ian’s nipple. Ian sucked in a breath when Taren began circling his nipple, steadily applying more pressure. Every time Ian moved, Taren pressed the razor’s edge against his skin with more pressure.

Ian’s body tensed when Taren leaned in and licked over his ear.

“You need a little something more for your nipples,” Taren whispered.

Ian closed his eyes and swallowed slowly. He pulled in a few deep breaths through his nose and bit his lower lip.

“Your self-control is excellent, as always,” Taren murmured. “That cage with the nubs inside the rings must be very uncomfortable about now.” He made a point of looking at Ian’s reflection and how his cock was stiffening within the confines of his cage. The sight sent a ripple through Taren’s belly and heat to his groin. “How does it feel?”

“Great. Thank you, Sir, for this,” Ian’s words were clipped and his voice tight.

Using the razor to hold Ian in place, Taren reached between Ian’s legs and pressed two fingers to the external prostate stimulator, pushing up. Ian’s breathing sped up and he clenched his fists. Taren knew he was fighting the urge to rock onto his toes.