“That it would blow back on you somehow. That Dale would take it out on you if I continued to fight.” There’s a slight tremble in Mitch’s voice, and I can tell it’s painful for him to talk about this. Talking about our shared past.
“Oh, he took it out on me, all right,” I chuckle bitterly. “But for entirely different reasons.”
“What do you mean?” Mitch stiffens beneath me and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m digging the protectiveness that oozes off him right now. Like earlier at the police station, too. The look that I now recognize as ‘Where’s our boy?’iswritten across Mitch and Cal’s faces again.
“He hurt you?” Cal grits behind me, getting up on his elbow, a storm moving across his tense face. He looks ready to murder someone.
“Not like that. Let’s just say that Dale the Dipshit had no lifelong dream tucked away of becoming a stepdaddy.” Cal seems to relax a little, and then he leans down, kissing Mitch first on the lips and then me on the forehead.
“He’ll never hurt you again,” Cal says, his voice unwavering. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
“That’s a big promise,” I tease. Jeez, they’re so serious.
“That’s an easy promise,” Mitch growls and fuck me; if I wasn’t already hard, I would be now. But I’ve been hard ever since that mind-blowing kiss that completely turned everything upside down. Then he claims my lips, sealing his promise with a deep kiss that has my toes curling and my heart fluttering in my chest. I moan into his mouth, high on the fact that for the first time in a long while, I feel safe. Cherished. Wanted. Cal shifts behind me,thrusting his hips against my ass, his hardness brushing against my crease.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp into Mitch’s mouth and he swallows it, along with a string of whimpers. Because that’s what I am. A whimpering, needy mess. And just when I’m about to chastise myself for being too much, too needy, too…everything, Cal hums against my left ear, “Shit, baby boy, aren’t you just the sexiest fucking thing? Such a good little boy, aren’t you?” And before I can ask for a vowel—because what do you even fucking say to something like that?—Cal continues, his voice nothing but a low purr, “Isn’t he just the sexiest little thing ever, M? I bet he’s got the sweetest little cock, too.” And I’m done for. I’m gone. All the way to fucking La La Land where my mind has officially left the building or whatever.
“Daddy,” I whine, pushing my ass back against the outline of Cal’s hard cock behind his briefs while I cling to Mitch, just about ready to climb inside him and live there for all eternity.
“He is,” Mitch growls against my lips. “He’s the most precious boy in the world, Cal. And he’s ours.”Ours. That small pronoun echoes through my head while Cal’s warm hand finds its way down inside my briefs. The ‘ours’makes its way through every limb and every vein in my body as he cradles my cock like it’s a frail little bird, made out of the most precious porcelain.
“Ours,” Cal repeats as he pumps me tenderly, nibbling at my neck, biting the word into my skin.
“Ours,” Mitch presses the word against my lips again and again. So many times that I lose count. So many times I lose myself. In them. In this. Whatever it is. I don’t care if this is wrong. If it’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right. Because thisfeelsright. It feels so fucking right, and I’ve gone so long feeling wrong. I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want to feel cherished. Wanted. And loved. I want to feel loved. Andthis,right now, withthem, the way they’re treating me, worshiping me, does feel a lot like love. It does.
“That’s it,” Cal coos, his hand grabbing me tighter, his movements still slow and steady as his bites become harder. “Such a good boy,” he moans, his dick digging into my ass. “Now come, baby. Come for me. Come for Mitch. Come for us.” And I do. I explode into a million little pieces, my Daddies’ names on my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I explode, but my Daddies hold me even tighter, keeping me together, keeping me from spinning out of control. Keeping me where I belong. Where I think I’ve always belonged.
With them.
Chapter Seventeen
Mitch
Irush through work like I have a deadline with the goddamn president or something. I figure the sooner I can get out of here, the faster I can get back home to my men. Shit.Men.As in plural. As in my husband, whom I love more than anything and with whom I thought I was going to be in an exclusive relationship as long as he would have me. That’s what I told him that day six years ago when he asked where this thing between us was heading. I just laid it all out there. My heart. My hopes and dreams. Everything. ‘For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours, Cal. Always.’Never in a million years did I think thatalwayscould include someone else. And not just anyone else, no.
Ty.MyTy. The boy that I loved and lost, no longer a kid, but a man. A man that I’ve fallen for despite his best efforts to hate me and my best efforts to not go there. But I have. We both have. Cal too. We’ve gone there. And going back isn’t possible. That damn bridge burned to the ground last night when Ty unraveled between us, coming with Cal’s and my name on his lips. While the bridge burned to ashes, I licked our boy clean, his soft, spent cock between my lips, and his essence causing all the synapses in my brain to fucking fry. Squirming beneath me, Ty moaned around Cal’s fingers contentedly, sucking his own cum from my husband’s thick fingers. It was the sexiest goddamn thing ever, Ty’s eyelashes fluttering, his cheeks flushed, his frail chest vibrating with the aftermath of his orgasm.
All day, as one case number after another blows past my vision on the computer screen, it’s all I can think about. Ty’s distinct taste exploding on my tongue, lingering there long after I’d swallowed every drop. His scent, too. So goddamn intoxicating. Sweet and heady. Cal’s tongue in my mouth, sealing this newfound thing between us, while Ty buried his face in my chest hair with an outdrawn sigh. I cried then. Quietly, in the darkness. For the boy I’d lost once. For the end of one life that led to the beginning of something else. Something real. For gratitude that he came back. That my boy has come back to me. To us. While I cried and my vision blurred, the truth, blurry at first, became clear, little by little, to the backdrop of Ty’s soft snores and Cal’s much deeper ones: I’m never letting him go again. Never.
Lana laughs at me when I run out of the office like the floor is about to become lava.
“Hot date?” she winks.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my throat, the tears threatening to spill again. What the hell is happening to me? “For the rest of my life,” I blurt, and what the hell? Lanajust laughs even louder, throwing her long black hair over her shoulder.
“Jeez, whatever Cal puts in those buns of his, it seems to be working,” she winks knowingly. As I nod stupidly, it occurs to me that at some point we’ll have to come out to the world as a…? What’s it called? It’s not a threesome, is it? That’s just a hook-up thing, right? Ty’s not a hookup. “You okay?” Lana tilts her head at me. “You look like your brain is cooking on somethin’.”
“Just…” I shake my head. I amnothaving this conversation right now.
“Get out of here!” she motions toward the door with a shoo gesture. “You’re already mentally gone anyway,” she smirks. “See ya tomorrow, Mitch,” she smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“See ya, Lana,” I grin goofily as I rush past her, my jacket getting caught in the doorknob on my way out, but even the sound of fabric tearing isn’t enough to make me stop. I’m a man on a mission.
The girl behind the counter at the pharmacy looks at me like I’ve lost my mind when I empty an armful of lube and condoms out in front of her. I’m long past embarrassment, though. Better safe than…blue balls.Cal and I haven’t used condoms in years, but it’s not just the two of us now, is it? And although I have no idea if or when we’ll need them, I’m not taking any chances.
“Will that beall, sir?” She grins obnoxiously, chewing loudly on her bubblegum as she rings in the last bottle of lube.
“Uhm, let me have someTylenoltoo,” I say, while she’s bagging up what I now realize must look like either a) a year’s supply of condoms and lube, b) someone prepping for Armageddon, or c) like I’m a man slut.
