He’d hope.
Welcome Their Girl Home
Diesel
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Diesel sat slouched in the couch opposite Maddox, both of them at angles, both their feet on the coffee table, both of them with beers resting on their abs.
He’d woken to a plugged ass, the flesh still pleasantly sore, an empty bed and a note on the kitchen counter by the coffeepot that he’d been able to read halfway through his second cup. A note sharing that Mad was at the gym.
This was not a surprise or an indication he was escaping Diesel. They’d learned a long time ago that Mad needed alone time at the gym.
They were all members at the same place, but if Mad went with Diesel and/or Molly, they’d talk his ear off and Maddox was that guy who liked focus when he worked his body. He blasted heavy metal in his ears and got in the zone. He didn’t want his man or woman jabbering at him while he was lifting or pounding it out on a treadmill, and with Mad around, always a listening ear, somehow neither of them could stop that shit from happening even knowing Mad liked to be in the zone.
Molly and D often went together, but Maddox always went alone.
So at the time, Diesel didn’t think twice about Mad being at the gym.
Somewhat caffeinated, D made one of three things he could make in the kitchen, oatmeal (the other two being toast and nuking a jar of cheese to pour over corn chips), belted it back and put on his running gear.
He’d been intent on toughing it out for thirty minutes, but in early morning heat after ten years he wasn’t used to (and that was saying something since he worked daily in the shit, but at least he didn’t have to run when working), he barely made twenty.
To make up for it, he punished his abs on the weight bench he declined in their den that they’d made workout space and did chin ups on the bar he and Mad had secured in the ceiling until his abs, arms, chest and back burned (both bench and bar doubling when shit got interesting, that being when it got sexual).
Since he was drenched in sweat, when he was done, he went out and mowed the lawn.
Getting in his own zone, and with Molly coming home, he also pulled out the blower and tidied every inch of yard and patio, yanking out the power hose to blast the lawn furniture so if Molly went out, she wouldn’t get any of the infamous Phoenician dust that always clung to the air and coated everything around on her clothes.
He set the furniture out in the sun and it was dry in ten minutes.
He was putting it back when Mad got home.
Mad checked in with D, took a shower, Diesel finished up on the patio and took a shower after him. They ate huge sandwiches made from the dizzying variety of cold cuts Mol left for them like she’d be gone for three weeks, not two days. Then to rest up, both of them, done in from a weekend of fucking and a morning of working out a different way, parked it in front of the TV and baseball.
D’s eyes slid from Maddox’s bare feet on the coffee table, up his long legs in his jeans, to his dark-blue tee that was tight on his pecs, loose at his stomach, practically cutting of his circulation at his biceps.
Then his gaze hit Mad’s profile.
He hadn’t shaved that morning or the one before.
D liked the beard and not just because it looked good, but because it felt good.
Molly felt the same.
Maddox, being the Dom he was, liked to give it.
He also liked to take it away.
He stopped thinking of the stubble Maddox had that was two days for him, but six for any other guy, and thought about that morning.
A Sunday morning trip to the gym was not totally out of the realm of possibility for Maddox, but Sunday mornings for their three usually was about all of them out on the patio with coffee and different sections of the paper. Quiet, together time which eventually fed into Mol or Mad making breakfast, something they’d eat out on the patio. They usually didn’t start their day until the clock was well past striking ten.
D had gone to sleep the night before experiencing the not-so-awesome feeling of both looking forward to having that just with Maddox and dreading it after he spouted all that shit about Tommy, worried he’d keep going, why he’d do that and what would come of it.
Not that the results of him sharing the little he had about Tommy had been bad. The sesh with Maddox in their bed had been Mad’s usual brilliance when he got down to business that he intended to last a while. Lots of pain. Lots of penetration any way he could take it. Phenomenal orgasms, as many as he could pull out.
D just felt naked, and not the good kind, after giving it up about Tommy.
And somehow he knew Maddox had sensed that and the trip to the gym was not about getting away from temptation so they could rest up for Molly or keeping his body in shape because he (and D and Mol) liked it like that.
It was about giving Diesel space.
That was Maddox.
That was his man.
And it was occurring to Diesel that Mad had been giving it up in a lot of ways for D since the beginning.
A lot of ways.
For a long time.
And D did not give that back.
It’s always about you, D.
Maddox had said that Friday night, when they were fighting.
It’s always about you.
Before he could wrap his mind around that, all it meant, and the fact that all it meant was not only true, but not good, the sound of the garage door going up set D’s eyes off Mad and down the hall to the back door.
He felt Maddox’s gaze and looked back at him to see him grinning at D.
“Molly,” Mad muttered, curling up, putting his beer on the coffee table and strolling down the hall with that loose-hipped gait he had that was so Maddox.
All about the confidence
All about the chill.
All about being comfortable in his skin.
It was then D realized that it wasn’t Maddox’s face, his body, his voice or his huge dick that did it for Diesel in the beginning.
It was that confidence.
It was that Maddox was who he was. He did not give that first shit what anyone thought about him. If someone said something—which fortunately no one had, Mad had learned a long time ago to narrow his life only to those who he wanted in it, taking on D’s family in the remote way he had to do that since they didn’t visit often, but they still seemed to loom large, at least to Diesel, when Maddox took on D and taking that shit because it came with D—Diesel suspected if he was in the mood, he had it in his power to let it go. But D knew, if he was in a different mood, Maddox had it in his power to fuck that someone up.
Either way, he’d be okay with it because that was Mad.
Diesel curled up to his feet, set his beer aside and followed him, hitting the door that Maddox was holding open for him and seeing Mol’s Escape already parked inside, the garage door going down.
Maddox didn’t hesitate to walk to her as D took hold of the door, stopping in it and holding it open with a shoulder while he crossed his arms on his chest.
Molly exploded out of the car and threw herself in Maddox’s waiting arms, crying, “Mady!”
That was all she got out.
Molly all Molly in a little flouncy dress with a short but full skirt, what looked like a short sleeve shirt on top, all of it with a pattern of little birds on it, Maddox didn’t bother saying anything in return.
He just pulled her body up his and took her mouth.
They went at it, and even though watching them made that tight feeling hit his gut again, D couldn’t stop the sides of his lips turning up.
When Maddox ended it, he did it pulling Molly’s thick hair away from the side of her face and murmuring, “I’ll get your bag, baby.”