Slade pulled out of Atticus’s ass, rolling to his back as his lungs worked overtime. He closed his eyes and let the peace settle around him. He needed another shower. The one he’d taken a short while ago had broken through the haze of his hangover. Now, he wasn’t sure he could move. His legs were weak, his knees like jelly.
He had no idea how long he was like that, but the gentle rocking of the bed had him opening his eyes. He turned, pushing up on his elbow when he realized Atticus was sucking Carson’s dick.
Slade dragged air between clenched teeth, anticipating the anger that would surge any second. But it didn’t come. And it still didn’t come as he watched Atticus worship Carson’s cock with his lips and tongue. Slade didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move. Not even when Atticus got to his knees, moving closer to Carson, forcing Carson onto his back.
Now it was Slade’s turn to watch, and that was exactly what he did. Greedily. He admired the way Atticus deep-throated Carson’s enormous cock, taking him deeper than what seemed possible. But it was when Carson grabbed the back of Atticus’s head, forcing him to take even more, that Slade’s cock twitched, returning to life despite the orgasm from minutes ago.
He hated to admit it, but he suddenly understood the appeal of being a bystander to an erotic encounter. He’d never fully understood Carson’s motivation, but he felt it. Watching the two of them together, seeing the pleasure they gave one another … it was intense.
But what sent it into the stratosphere was the way Carson reached for him even as he held Atticus’s head, fucking deep into his mouth.
Slade stretched his arm forward, touching Carson’s fingers, letting him know he was there without saying a word.
Carson twined their fingers, squeezing firmly.
“Fuck … Atticus … I’m comin’.”
And he did. His hips bucked as he held Atticus’s head firmly in place, gasping and groaning as his muscles flexed and bunched.
All the while, he held Slade’s hand.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You realize no one’s gonna show upfor work, right?”
Brantley stared up at Reese and grinned. “That’swhat you’re thinkin’ about right now?”
Reese moaned softly, rocking forward and back, his hands pressed firmly to Brantley’s chest.
Brantley continued to stare, loving this moment more than any other. The way Reese rode him, his beautiful body stretched as his back arched when Brantley lifted his hips a little more, pushing in deeper.
“I just … everyone drank too much.”
Brantley curled his fingers around Reese’s cock, stroking him gently. “You mean everyone had a good time.”
“Oh, God, yes...” Reese tipped his head back, the muscles in his neck tightening. “Brantley…”
Brantley chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He loved that he could trip Reese up when he was so clearly trying to mentally prepare for the day, even as he was being fucked.
The pleasure intensified as Reese’s ass clenched around his cock. Meanwhile, Reese’s dick pulsed and twitched in his hand.
“What I wanna know”—Brantley drove up into him—“is howwegot home.”
“Trey,” Reese said on a moan.
Brantley laughed. “Now you’re screamin’ out my brother’s name while I fuck you?”
That earned him a laugh as Reese’s head tipped back down. “Shut up and fuck me.”
Brantley released Reese’s cock, sliding his hands over Reese’s rock-hard thighs, moving toward his hips so he could take control. When he did, Reese stopped rocking, lifting so Brantley could slam into him from beneath.
“How did … we get … inside?” he asked.
“Walked,” Reese said through gritted teeth.
Brantley laughed again. This was the best sex a man could ask for. Not simply because he was balls deep inside this man but because they could talk and laugh. No pressure, only mind-numbing pleasure that came from a connection that wasn’t merely physical.
“Did you … take advantage … of me?”
