Learning to Trust: The Trust Series, #1

By Susan Horsnell

David was over men—period! He was tired of being someone's lackey. Pushed around as though he was worth nothing more than the dirt under a shoe.

Andrew wasn't looking for a relationship. He preferred to keep things casual. He was the one—maybe two—and done kind of man. So what was it about his neighbor that made him want to tie him to his bed and keep him there—Permanently?

Does Andrew have what David is looking for?

Is Andrew prepared to take a leap of faith and risk his heart?

Or will everything unravel over a misunderstanding?

MM Fiction/BDSM scenes for 18+ only

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lipstick Publishing
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223198314

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

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Copyright © 2022

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon, or similar organizations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Disclaimer

Please note: This story contains BDSM scenes and settings that are entirely fictional.

Therefore, they should not be taken as factual in regard to the BDSM lifestyle.

MM for 18+

Editing—Redline Editing

Proofread by Leanne Rogers

Published by Lipstick Publishing A lipstick and heart drawn on a white background Description automatically generated

Chapter One

DAVID

Get the hell out of my fucking life and stay out!

Lined up neatly side by side on the front porch, a pair of boots I’d given Tristan the previous week caught my eye. He’d wanted them for months, but on a librarian’s wage, they were out of his reach. On my way home from work, I’d noticed a pair on display in the department store window and had bought them to surprise him. It was always the case—what Tristan wanted, I provided. In my angry state, I imagined they were now mocking my stupidity. I bent down, scooped them into my hands, and lobbed them at my asshole, soon-to-be ex, who was standing beside a white Lexus I’d also been stupid enough to buy him as a gift. While one boot missed, the other connected with his chest causing him to yelp—a most satisfying sound to my ears.

David, please.

I’ll send your stuff to Sebastian’s. The two of you can go to hell. I’d lost my lover and close friend in one fell swoop, and despite my anger, it hurt.

Whatever David said next was lost in the front door slamming after I spun around and stormed into my home.

The couch emitted a sighing sound as I dropped onto the cushion, expelling whatever air had previously been trapped. The fingers of one hand dragged through my unruly black curls while I held my cell phone and pulled up the number of a locksmith with the other. After telling him I didn't care how much extra it cost me to have him out on a Saturday, he assured me he would be out in under an hour to change every lock in the place.

Next on my list was a phone call to my big sister, Janice. She was four years older than my thirty-six years—my confidante and best friend. The person I turned to for advice or when I was upset.

"Hey. You're calling early, considering it's Saturday. I figured you'd be curled up in bed with Tristan doing whatever you two do together.

I growled down the line. I’m done with Tristan. I found out the asshole has been fucking Sebastian again.

Oh, honey, I’m sorry. So this is what—the third time he’s fucked around on you with Seb?

Fourth and last. All Tristan's promises about being faithful meant shit. I should have listened to you and Heather when you had doubts about us being together. I'm done, Jan. The two of them can go to hell. From now on, David Pennant trusts no one. Except you, of course.

My sister sighed loudly. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but Tristan was never right for you. One day a man will walk into your life and steal your heart when you least expect it to happen. He will make you forget the hurt caused by Tristan, Seb, and all the rest of the assholes.

Nope. From this point on, I’m gonna be the meanest motherfucker men cross paths with, and they won’t bother to give me a second glance. I’m tired of being given shit at work and walked all over in my personal life.

You’re hurting, hon. Give it time and lick your wounds but don’t become a bitter, twisted old man like Dad. He’s done fuck all since retiring a year ago when, with his fortune, he could have been traveling the world. If Mom were still around, she would have been dragging him all over Europe.

I’m beginning to understand why he’s that way with the attitudes I’ve had to put up with since I stepped into his shoes at the company. Everyone said he was too young to retire since he was only fifty-nine, but the way things are going with that bunch of assholes, I’ll be retiring before my fortieth birthday.

Janice laughed. Yeah, they can be difficult. She was the Senior Manager of advertising at Pennant Electronics, where I was now CEO. Our father had built it from nothing into a multi-billion-dollar industry. My sister dealt with the same problems and understood exactly what I was saying. Seriously though, I’m sure everything will be okay, she reassured.

I have my doubts, but moving on, I called to see if you and Steve could help me out this afternoon to pack up Tristan’s stuff. I’ll organize a rental truck and driver to dump it at Sebastian’s place.

Wow, you really are serious about not giving him another chance and letting him stay.

Deadly.

Lisa is having a sleepover at Wendy's, and Steve is dropping her off at ten this morning. Gavin has little league, but I'll call Belinda and ask if she and Roger can take him with Billy. They'll be happy to have him stay until we get home. We can be there around eleven, and I'll bring lunch.

Thanks, sis, for always being here when I need you.

That's what big sisters are for; they care for their little brothers when they're in trouble.

Janice blew kissy sounds into the phone before I disconnected our call and got up from the couch.

I crossed to the security panel near the front door and flipped the cover down, mulling over what digits I should enter for the new code. They needed to be numbers Tristan wouldn’t easily guess because there was no doubt in my mind that he would return, intending to enter my home.

I could picture it now—I would come home from work after a long day and find him naked on his knees. Numerous red roses—my favorite flower, would be in several vases. Dozens of flickering candles would be dotted around the dim room. The living room would have a thick air of romance. He would apologize over and over until I finally accepted, and we would fuck until our bodies were boneless and we fell into a deep sleep. The following days would see us acting as two men deeply in love until it happened again.

I keyed in numbers Tristan would have no chance of guessing and then called the security company advising them that Tristan was no longer authorized to enter the premises. They asked me for a new password, which I gave them.

After hanging up the phone, a shower should have been my priority before the locksmith arrived, but instead, I crossed to the bar in the dining room and poured myself a large scotch. I didn’t give a fuck that it was barely eight in the morning and way too early for alcohol by any decent person’s standards. Holding the glass and an almost full bottle of liquor, I dropped back onto the couch and took a large gulp of the amber liquid, closing my eyes as it burned its way down my throat.

Laughing and voices outside had me pushing aside the curtains on the window next to where I sat. A removal truck was in the driveway of the house next door, and five men were busy unloading boxes to carry inside. I wondered if they had witnessed the scene between Tristan and me but decided even if they had, I didn't give a flying fuck.

Chapter Two

ANDREW

Angry shouting from next door drew my attention away from what my best friend, Kyle, was saying about moving boxes inside before the threat of rain eventuated. My Aunt Heather had passed a month earlier, and being her only living relative, she had willed me her sizeable estate. Her generosity was something I would always be grateful for—her estate, including the house in Southampton I was currently moving into, was worth millions. Quite the windfall, even for a wealthy man as I was, thanks to inheriting my parent's estate, but I would give it all up to spend more time with the woman who had raised me and whom I considered more of a mother than an aunt.

Kyle, Simon, Cody, and Leon, my closest friends who had agreed to help me with the move, became aware of the scene next door, stopped what they were doing, and stepped up to my side. We stood watching as the drama unfolded.

I studied the angry man standing on the covered porch and felt the twinge of interest in my cock. He appeared to be six to eight inches shorter than my own, 6’ 4", with a shock of unruly black curls I itched to push back off his forehead so I could get a clear look at his eyes. Dressed in only a pair of navy-blue sweatpants, I was able to view his well-defined muscles and wondered if they were the product of hard work or a gym. Maybe both. His feet were bare, and I got the impression he’d just crawled from his bed.

Cody groaned when the angry guy lobbed a pair of sturdy boots at the man standing by the door of a late-model Lexus that was backed into the driveway. He was shorter than the angry guy, thin, and looked like a nerd with his soda bottle thick glasses. His thinning hair gave him the appearance of being quite a bit older. While one boot sailed past nerd guy's head, the other hit him square in the chest, causing him to take a staggering step backward.

Once he had regained his composure, the nerdy guy picked up the boots and threw them into the front seat of his car before attempting to plead with his boyfriend—or lover? Either way, the man I now knew as David wasn't interested in what was being said, and the plea fell on deaf ears when he spun around, disappeared into his home, and slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows of my house!

The nerdy guy started to approach the door, but obviously thinking better of his decision and probably knowing he had no hope of negotiating a peace treaty, he climbed into his car and drove away.

Whoa, that guy was angry. I wonder what lover boy did? Leon asked before sweeping up another box and heading toward my open front door.

When the phone in my pocket rang, I set the box I’d just lifted back onto the ground and pulled the cell free. A number I didn’t recognize lit up the screen, but that wasn’t unusual since I was a locksmith and strangers regularly called my business. I pressed the button and answered.

Whyte Locksmith Services.

The man on the other end of the line was abrupt and informed me that he needed every lock on his property changed immediately. I advised him that my time was worth double on weekends, and he said he would pay whatever I wanted to get the job done. It was a pain in the ass that I needed to take care of a job on what was supposed to be a day off and moving day, but running my own business meant I needed to take care of anything that arose. Well, not me necessarily, but I had given Gina and Henry, two of my employees, time off to attend a wedding and promised Phil, Tony, and Diane the entire weekend off since they’d worked Saturdays on the past three. Fiona, my bookkeeper, personal assistant, and receptionist, had no idea where to start with changing a lock, so she wasn't a consideration. Nope, this job was all mine.

I agreed to be at the house within the next hour and asked for the man's name and address. Imagine my shock when he told me his name was David Pennant, and he was the angry owner of the house next door. I didn't enlighten him on the fact I was his new neighbor. I disconnected the call, thinking that nerdy guy did, in fact, look like he was gone for good.

Who was that? Cody hefted a box into his arms and waited for my answer.

A guy who needs all the locks changed on his property.

Bugger. Did you ask him if he could wait until tomorrow?

I shook my head. He said it was urgent and wants them done today.

Damn.

Hmm. The thought of being in the same room as the sexy, angry guy had my cock swelling.

What? Cody asked when he must have noticed I was off with the fairies.

I turned my attention back to my friend. It’s the guy next door.

Angry guy? That’s one hell of a coincidence.

Yep. It seems like he’s serious about nerdy guy staying away. Do you mind unloading the rest of the stuff and returning the truck? I told Ken I’d have it back by lunch.

He slapped me on the back. We've got your back; go ahead.

Pick up a case of beer and steaks, and we'll grill when I get back. It should only take an hour or so unless he's some lock freak.

After Cody left with another box, I headed to where I'd parked my van in one of the triple-car garages and pushed a button on the remote in my pocket. A door slid upward, and I stepped inside. Grabbing a toolbox from the back, I opened the lid and shoved in several locks I thought were the most likely to be needed.

Carrying the toolbox, I cut across both front lawns, stepped onto the porch where David had stood during the argument, and rang the doorbell. The man who swung the door open was bleary-eyed, reeked of alcohol, and swayed precariously on his feet. It had been less than half an hour since the fight, and the man standing before me was tanked.

Fortunately, the death grip he had on the door was managing to keep him upright.

I thrust out my free hand. Hi. I'm Andrew, the locksmith, and your new neighbor.

He attempted to shake the hand, which required releasing his hold on the door. He swayed, losing his balance, and dropped to the floor in a heap.

A disturbing thought flashed through my mind—if he were my man, I’d sober him up and paddle his ass until it glowed red as punishment for drinking so early in the day.

There were two things very wrong with my thought—he wasn’t my man, and he more than likely wouldn’t be into the lifestyle.

I stood staring at him as he remained slumped on the floor. Close up, I was able to see just how fucking gorgeous the man was, and my cock swelled with hope when I imagined him tied to my bed, helpless while I pounded his ass.

David Pennant?

The man lifted his head and gazed at me through alcohol-glazed whiskey-colored eyes.

Why aren’t I good enough?

Okay—it seemed David was going to indulge in some wallowing despite the fact I was a stranger. He didn't give me a chance to answer his question before dropping his head and continuing.

Five years. Whatever he wanted, I bought for him. I did everything he asked, and he repays me by fucking behind my back with the only friend he permitted me to keep. David lifted now tear-soaked eyes to mine. What's wrong with me that the two men I trusted needed to fuck each other behind my back? This is the fourth time the pair have betrayed me and the third time a partner has suckered by me in the past twelve years. I'm done.

If I was ever asked about the kind of man who would make the ideal Sub, it would be David I'd describe. It seemed he was the template for what I looked for as a Dom—eager to please, pliable, and hopefully, spirit.

Warning bells sounded. There hadn't been a regular Sub in my life for eight years since my last—Mark, had wanted something permanent. I wasn't ready to settle; if I had been, Mark wasn't the person I would have considered. I doubted the man crumpled at my feet would be happy with a casual when we felt the urge, affair. But at this moment in time, David needed someone, and it looked like I'd drawn the short straw.

Setting my toolbox on the ground, I crouched in front of David, positioned both hands beneath his arms, and hoisted him onto his feet. I tightened my hold when he swayed in my arms, ensuring he didn’t crash back to the floor.

Come on, let’s get you to the couch.

I had no idea where his living room was located since his home was nothing like mine. When he steadied himself and attempted to walk on his own, I released him and followed.

David stumbled into a large living room with a wall of windows showing a view of my place.

A beige couch with two matching chairs was positioned facing a large flatscreen television hanging above a pristine marble fireplace. The floors were polished wood, as they had been in the entry foyer. Two small wooden tables held lamps with blue shades, and on a large wooden coffee table was a lowball glass and half bottle of scotch. There were no prizes for guessing where the other half of the bottle had gone. Obviously, the amber liquid was the major contributor to David's alcoholic stupor. When he collapsed onto the couch and reached for the bottle, I crossed the floor and snatched it from his hand.

I think you’ve had more than enough for one day, probably a week. I’m sure your liver will thank me for taking this away.

He attempted to push himself to his feet to retrieve the bottle but failed and fell back onto the couch. Anger sparked in his eyes as he turned them on me—his adversary. Good, at least he had some backbone.

Who the fuck are you?

Andrew—the locksmith you called.

He studied me for a moment before his eyes ping-ponged between me and the window beside where he sat.

You’re moving into Mrs. Whyte’s house?

Yes. Heather was my aunt and left her estate to me when she passed.

She was a wonderful lady. I had tea with her every Sunday. Her lemon cookies were the best. He paused for a moment. "Both she and my sister tried to tell me Tristan was no good, that he was out for my money and to exploit my kindness. I should