“Oh, fuck, yes,” Kit whined, breathless, rocking back. Pleasure sizzled, leaving sparks in his vision. “Like that. No, more.”
“I know you’re ready,” Bishop said, with far too much restraint. “But your tight little hole isn’t.”
James chuckled. “Greedy little slut. How many minutes can Bishop finger you before you start to cry, you want his cock so bad?”
Ugh. The idea was tempting as fuck. But maybe for another day. Kit needed a cock inside him too much right now.
“You have thirty seconds before I stab someone,” Kit gasped.
“I’ll grab a knife,” Holden said helpfully.
Bishop’s fingers withdrew, leaving Kit empty and wanting. “No need to stab anyone,” Bishop said, cockhead nudging Kit’s hole.
Before Kit could tense with anticipation, Bishop speared him to the core.
Kit gasped, every breath electric. Bishop thrust in fast, hard, without holding back, exactly how Kit wanted. Just enough lube slapped between them to let Bishop effortlessly shape Kit’s body around his rutting cock.
Overwhelmed, complete, Kit arched into the sensation. “Oh, fuck. Like that. Fuck.”
That was the most he could move. Darius held him firmly by the hair, and Bishop’s grasp was blazing iron around his hips. God. Kit couldn’t believe he and Bishop had waited so long for this. Except maybe that was a good thing. They waited until they were ready. Until Kit was free of the dark memories shackling him—ready for brand-new, irresistible, glorious shackles.
“Damn, you look good together,” James said smugly, as if he was taking credit for all of this.
Maybe he should, since he was the one who first brought up sharing. Though he couldn’t have imagined how far Kit would take that permission. James slung an arm over Darius’sshoulder. At least, Kit thought that was what he was doing. From his angle, Kit couldn’t see much beyond James’s bare, muscular thighs and straining cock. The heat of his exposed skin tickled Kit’s lungs.
“Isn’t his ass incredible?” James continued. “Give it a slap now and then. Or twist his nipples. He might come just from that.”
Bishop’s startled laugh didn’t slow him at all. “Do you ever get used to the commentary, Darius?”
“What were you expecting?” Darius asked, yanking Kit’s head up. “You’ve hooked up with James before.”
Bishop rocked deeper into Kit. Over Kit’s groan of painful delight, Bishop said, “James was quiet for me. Might have been my cock in his mouth.”
“I can talk with a cock in my mouth.” James’s hand joined the tangle of Kit’s hair. A sharper, less steadying grasp than Darius’s. “You’re just not as fun to talk to as my slutty little boyfriend.”
Something heavy thumped across the room, followed by a metallic jingle. Holden had been quiet for too long. Kit couldn’t interrogate him, though, because James was nudging Darius out of the way.
“Speaking of mouths, open up, babe.”
Kit swallowed hard. James was fully nude, which Kit approved of. But that exposed the bruises, stark and blue against the golden tan of his chest, where he’d hit the dashboard through the airbag. Guilt and gratitude and love twisted sharp behind Kit’s ribs.
“Are you really okay?” Kit asked, then rolled his eyes at James’s leer. “Yeah, yeah, the only cure is fucking my pretty little mouth.”
“You said it, beautiful,” James said, and angled his cockhead against Kit’s lips.
Kit opened eagerly. Bishop cooperated by slowing to a grind. His cock still painted Kit’s nerves with incredible fire, but Kit wasn’t at risk of biting down accidentally.
Not that Kit was responsible if he did. James was clearly in charge of this blowjob, prying Kit’s lips wider with his thumb even though Kit was already opening his mouth. James’s tip slid past Kit’s wet lips, smearing salty precum all over Kit’s tongue.
Pulse pounding from his heart to the tips of his fingers, Kit closed his eyes in happy surrender. Enough running. Enough looking over his shoulder. Enough burying emotions that hurt too much to feel.
Kit wasn’t afraid, and he wanted to feel everything his men could possibly give him.
James was still rambling sweet obscenities overhead, with occasional commentary from Darius and Bishop. Holden stayed quiet, but the mattress dipped, and that was definitely Holden’s hand exploring the trembling muscles of Kit’s back.
There was that metallic sound again. Mostly muffled by the slam of the headboard against the wall. They should fix that somehow. Later.
Kit’s jaw ached, and saliva dripped down his chin. He was a mess, and it felt fucking amazing. One of Bishop’s hands left Kit’s hip, bracing instead against the mattress. Bishop bowed over, his shirt sticking to Kit’s flushed back. Each thrust became short, harsh, barely withdrawing before slamming in. Kit’s nerves sang with deafening pleasure.
