“Don’t think you can?” Slade smirked. “I do.”
Atticus was going to bet him otherwise, but Slade didn’t give him a chance. Slade sat upright, gripped Atticus’s hips, and pulled him closer until his ass was tilted and propped up on Slade’s spread knees. The position forced Slade’s cock even deeper. He rocked with slow, shallow strokes.
“Did you know you can tease the prostate from the outside?”
As Atticus watched, Slade reached down. He felt Slade’s knuckles brush his balls, but that sensation dissolved when Slade rubbed the pad of his finger over his taint. He didn’t stop and still didn’t stop, and the next thing Atticus knew, every muscle in his body was tense, and Slade’s fingers were doing something magical.
He grunted when electricity erupted in his spine, his balls drawing up tight.
Slade grabbed his leg as he rocked into him, continuing to torment that spot that lit him up from the inside. It was incredible.
“Pull your legs back.”
Atticus fumbled but managed to slide his hands behind his knees, opening himself fully to Slade’s penetration. Slade pressed more firmly on his perineum, and the electricity ignited, sparking in his balls a second before he came with a garbled shout.
As cum spurted out of his cock, Slade continued to torment his prostate, prolonging the overwhelming orgasm.
“Fuck, you look so good when you come.” Slade shifted, planting his fists into the mattress beside Atticus’s head. “But now it’s my turn.”
Once again, there was eye contact, and Atticus was lost as Slade pounded into him again and again, his breaths sawing in and out of his lungs, his brown eyes glittering with lust.
“You ready?” Slade growled.
“Come, Slade. Come inside me.”
Slade drove into him once, twice … He slammed in one final time and groaned Atticus’s name as his beautiful body tensed, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing, his neck muscles drawing taut.
It was, quite possibly, the most intense thing Atticus had ever felt.
Chapter Twenty
One week later…
Monday, August 22, 2022
“Is it just me, or was thatrun harder than usual?” Reese asked when they walked into the house.
“I’m harder than usual,” Brantley quipped. “But you do that to me.”
Reese shook his head, his cheeks blooming with color. Brantley felt a sense of satisfaction. He loved that the man blushed. It was one of his many endearing qualities.
“Seriously.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” Brantley told him, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and tossing one to Reese.
Tesha stood on the other side of the island, slurping water out of the new fountain Reese had bought her. Some fancy contraption that kept the water moving at all times. And to think, Brantley had been amused that Reese insisted on giving Tesha only filtered water from the Brita pitcher. Now she had her own water fountain.
It wouldn’t surprise him if Reese gave her a bedroom next, complete with furniture. A half dozen throw pillows. Maybe some curtains.
“Want me to prove it to you?” Brantley asked, stepping up behind Reese, eliminating the space between them.
Reese reached back, sliding his hand down Brantley’s hip. Usually, the man laughed and stepped away, so Brantley knew what he wanted when he opted for the opposite.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Brantley mumbled against Reese’s ear as he set his water on the island and gripped both of Reese’s hips.
Reese leaned into him, both of them sweaty. It didn’t stop Brantley from running his hands beneath Reese’s T-shirt to feel those gloriously hard muscles of his abdomen.
“Shower or here?” Brantley asked.
