“I could,” he exhales. “If it was okay with you, M, then yes, I could easily love him.”
“It is,” I swallow, my love for this man increasing tenfold in a split second. “It’s okay with me, sweetheart. I think I could easily, too. Again. Differently.” I don’t think I ever reallystopped. Loving Ty, that is. I just didn’t allow myself to, but now that Cal has admitted to me how he feels, I think I can again.Willagain. Allow myself to love Ty wholeheartedly. Cal shakes his head, laughing that carefree laugh of his.
“Weird how love can just grow if you let it, ain’t it M? It just wants to grow so bad all on its own.” There’s a wet sheen to his golden eyes as he looks right into me, into the essence of who I am. His naked and honest self meeting mine.
“Yeah,” I smile. “Weird, but wonderful.” Stepping right up to me, he grins in my face in that cheeky way of his that makes me weak in the knees and hard in an instant.
“I need you,” he whispers, his hips searching mine, a hunger in his eyes that matches my own. A hunger that’s insatiable no matter how many times I have him. No matter how many times I claim his body as mine. Ever-present and all-consuming.
“Turn around,” I grit, my dick swelling in my jeans, that familiarrush-rush-rushin my ears when my need for him takes over. With a victorious expression he complies, turning around, his firm, inviting ass stretching the denim material of his pants as he bends over the lounger. A grunt slips from my lips, my hand flying to my groin as I rub across the front of my pants. This always happens when Cal offers himself to me like this. I can never decide how I want him. Where I want my cum. Inside his belly, smeared across his pale fleshy globes, or inside his hole. If I could, I would bathe him in my cum so that he would only ever smell of me. I’m a possessive asshole, but I think Cal likes it. Craves it. He once told me he never felt truly wanted before he met me. That stuck. In the back of my head, it stuck, and I’ve since made it my mission in life that he knows he’s wanted.
Bending over him, I bite down on the frail skin of his neck as I unbutton his jeans. Chasing my teeth, he rubs his ass against my front, teasing my hardness. Once his jeans are unbuttoned, Itear them down his thick thighs, his arousal wafting toward me through his white briefs. I leave his jeans around his ankles, not bothering to struggle with his boots. Dropping to my knees, I lean in, burying my face between his meaty ass cheeks, breathing him in. His thighs tremble, a muffled whine escaping him as I wrap my arms around them, holding him still.
I lick across his crease, the cotton tasting of him. His distinct musky taste, his sweat, his need for me. He wiggles his hips as best as he can to meet me, an impatient groan growing from somewhere deep in his chest. I bite into his right ass cheek, then the left.
“Motherfucker!” he yells. Because when I go to town on his ass, I don’t nibble carefully like a polite choir boy. Hell no. I feast on him, leaving marks that’ll stay imprinted on his skin well into next week. “Mitch, please,” he whimpers, the outline of his cock pressing against the white, see-through fabric. I laugh against his crack, inhaling him greedily. I’m no sadist, but I do love when my man begs. It makes my chest swell and my cock rejoice. It makes me feel like a goddamn king. “Fuck me,” he pants, his hand flying to his briefs as he chucks down the hem and pulls out his dick.
“Shit, sweetheart, look at you. That looks painful. Is it hurtin’, sweetheart?” My voice is nothing but a low pur as I try to rile him up. Cal’s orgasm always tastes the best when he’s all riled up, the desperation like goddamn honey on my tongue.
“You know it’s fucking hurting, asshole!” he spits. “Now get the fuck on with it, M!” The mouth on this guy. I swear to God, if I wasn’t so fucking horny, watching Cal and Ty all weekend without being able to get my hands on them, I would draw this out. I would draw it out for hours until he was a begging, blubbering mess beneath my fingers.
Tearing down his briefs below his ass, I bury my face in his crack as I push the tip of my tongue into his pucker, stabbing it again and again.
“Fuck yes!” Cal screams, his hole chasing my tongue, sucking me right in. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about, motherfucker!” I oughta wash his mouth out with soap or spank the brat out of him or maybe both, but I’m on a mission right now. Pulling away, I spit on his hole, then jam two fingers inside him, followed by my tongue.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” he chants, riding my tongue, my fingers, fucking himself roughly, just the way he likes it. “That’s it, M. Deeper,” he near-sobs. “I need you fucking deeper. Tear me open. Tear me right open, M.” I can tell by his frantic movements and the cock hungry edge to his voice that it’s just a matter of seconds. Cal’s gone to that special place where he’s completely engulfed in his imminent climax. I continue to stab him, fuck him, bite him, alternating deep thrusts with shallow ones because I know that drives him batshit crazy.
“Fucking fuck!” he cries, sobbing into the lounger. “Get me there, M. Get me there. Get me there.” He’s beating off his cock ruthlessly, his fingers dripping with precum, his cockhead a deep purple, appearing and disappearing in his fist.
“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” I purr. “I’ll get you there,” I promise. It’s an easy promise because I always fucking get him there. Releasing one hand from his thighs, I grab his hair and pull his head backward, violently. The muscles of his shoulders and back ripple beneath his tee, beads of sweat glistening at the bottom of his spine where the white fabric has ridden up. “Who do you belong to?” I grit against his right ear as I continue to pound his hole with my fingers.
“You, Mitch,” he whines, his eyes blown wide. “Only you.”
“Who do you love, Cal?” I bite the words into the paper-thin skin of his neck.
“I love you, M. You. You, you, yo—” he screams as his hole quivers and clenches and pulses around my fingers. Strings of white cum hit the deck as he continues to fuck his fist, his thighs shaking with his release.
“My love,” I pant against his ear. “My love.”
“Yours,” he sighs, sated and spent. Then he chuckles. “Shit, babe.”
“What?” I groan, my knees screaming at me, my fingers still buried in his ass.
“I can’t wait to find out where Ty fits into all of this,” he laughs.
“Oh, he’ll fit,” I say. “We’ll make him f—” The rest of my sentence drowns in the shrill ring from my phone on the garden table. Ignoring it at first, I get to my knees, cursing myself for not at least putting a cushion on the deck. But when it goes off a second time, then a third soon after, I pick it up, an unknown caller ID flashing across the screen. I know instantly that something’s happened. I think Cal knows, too, from the worried frown between his brows. Ty. My Ty.OurTy.
Chapter Fifteen
Callum
Tyler is out-of-his-mind drunk when we get to the precinct downtown. We hear his loud shrill voice mouthing off someone as soon as we enter the reception area, a tired-looking receptionist offering us a semi-welcoming smile.
“Get your fucking hands off me, you brute!” Ty yells from somewhere and my instincts immediately screamFIND HIM AND PROTECT HIMin my head, in my chest, everywhere. Mitch throws me a desperate look. At least we’re not in a hospital somewhere. At least, he’s not hurt. He’s drunk, yeah, but at least he’s safe. When Mitch got the call thirty minutes ago that Ty had been picked up in a bar fight, we flew out of the door, not knowing what to expect. In a second my mind went fromblissed-out to full-on emergency mode, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.
Mitch wastes no time rushing up to the reception desk.
“Tyler Carter,” he blurts loudly. “He was brought in an hour ago. I’m his… his parole officer, Mitch Cain.” His hair looks wild, bearing witness to how furiously he was grabbing at it on the drive here. “Bobby… I mean, Sergeant Lincoln called me.”
