“Long time.”
Not long enough. Slade hadn’t quite built up a resistance to Carson. Although he wasn’t interested in Carson’s dirty game with willing strangers, he couldn’t deny his attraction to the man. It was difficult not to be. Carson was a charismatic man. He was as smart and funny as he was handsome. That devious smirk and those seductive eyes … they’d been Slade’s downfall.
The fact he had a body like a god and a cock that deserved to be worshipped didn’t help matters.
Carson appeared, passing each of them a beer and holding a glass of what looked to be vodka.
As though sensing Slade’s question, Carson held it up. “Water. I’m not drinkin’ tonight.”
That was another first.
Slade pretended to be interested in the decor as Carson took a seat in the upholstered chair across from them.
No one spoke for the longest time, and the awkward tension began to fill the room, coiling around the three of them until it was nearly impossible to breathe.
“I don’t know what he’s told you,” Carson finally said, “but I’d like to start at the beginning.”
Slade felt Atticus’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look his way. He couldn’t. He was curious how Carson would lay the blame at his feet to make himself look better.
“Some call it consensual voyeurism; others would classify me as a cuckold,” Carson stated, his eyes lowering to avoid looking at either one of them. “Whatever you call it, I get off on watchin’ my partners fuck other people.”
“Strangers,” Atticus stated.
Carson looked up. “No.” His eyes shifted to Slade briefly before returning to Atticus. “Not necessarily, but yeah, there’s a particular satisfaction to watchin’ my partner pick someone up and take them home.”
“That’s how you get off?” Atticus asked. “By dating men who aren’t opposed to fucking other people for your benefit.”
This time, when Carson looked at him, Slade diverted his gaze.
“It’s not only formybenefit.”
“With Slade, it was, though, right?”
Slade felt Atticus’s gaze.
“You said you didn’t like it.”
He took a swig of beer. “I didn’t like fuckin’ strangers.”
“But you liked Carson watching you fuck other people?”
Slade swallowed hard.
“Either you’re honest, or there’s no sense having this conversation,” Atticus stated firmly.
“Yes,” Slade blurted. “I like to be watched.”
“So that makes you an exhibitionist?”
“No.” Slade looked at Atticus. “I only like to be watched by someone I’m intimate with.”
God, why the hell were they trying to label this shit? Talking about it made him feel like a freak. It was easier when he could blame Carson.
“So why’d y’all stop doing it?” Atticus asked, his question directed at both of them. “If you like to watch and you like to be watched, why’d it end?”
“Because Slade needed more from me, and I couldn’t own up to it,” Carson said.
Slade’s gaze snapped to the man. He hadn’t expected Carson to admit that.
