“Carson… oh, fuck.” He didn’t want to come yet, but if the man kept doing that, he was going to.
But then he heard it. The distinct rumble of an exhaust.
“What’s that?”
Carson continued to stroke him. “Slade’s truck.”
Oh, shit. “Is hehere?”
“No.” Carson licked the head of Atticus’s cock again. “He lives across the street.”
Great. They were neighbors.
“Does he … come over here?”
“Not anymore.”
Atticus frowned. “What does that mean?”
Carson smiled as he got to his feet, taking Atticus’s hand and leading him through the house toward his bedroom.
“I need more room to do what I really wanna do,” Carson said, as though an explanation was necessary.
Atticus followed, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Slade. In his head, he pictured the guy coming to the door, interrupting them so he could tell Atticus that Carson was squirrelly.
“Are you related to Slade or something?”
“Nope,” Carson said, gently shoving Atticus onto the bed.
Atticus shifted back on the pillows and watched as Carson stripped. “Friends?”
Carson’s eyes narrowed. “Not anymore.”
“Falling out?”
Carson grinned, joining Atticus on the bed. “I used to fuck him.”
The gasp that escaped was involuntary. That was the last thing he’d expected Carson to say.
“Slade’s…?” He couldn’t get the word out. It wasn’t possible. The guy wasn’t gay. He’d been married to a woman, for fuck’s sake.
Oh, God. Fuck. Suck me, Atticus. Yeah. Like that. Just like that.
Slade’s words filled his head; the memory of Slade lying on the bed, jacking off, made Atticus’s dick swell even more. It was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t help it.
“Mmm.” Carson straddled Atticus’s thighs and curled his fingers around his cock. “Are you thinkin’ about me or Slade?”
“What?” Atticus knew his face was tomato-red.
Carson grinned. “You like the idea of me fuckin’ Slade?”
Well, now that he mentioned it, he could see the appeal of watching two smoking hot guys like them going at it. He wondered who the alpha in that relationship was. Carson was definitely the alpha here, but Atticus couldn’t imagine Slade letting Carson top him.
Not that he would ask. He didn’t want to think about Slade. Certainly not right now, when the man Atticus had been fantasizing about for the past few days was about to make his dreams come true.
“Turn over,” Carson said, lifting one of his legs to give Atticus room to move.
He rolled over onto his stomach.
