“Oh, fuck, baby.I’m gonna come.”He growled softly, trying to be quiet but too far gone to give a shit who might hear them.“Swallow!”
Reese’s throat closed around him, triggering a mind-blowing orgasm.It was all Brantley could do to remain on his feet as his cock pulsed and spurted.
He stumbled back, catching himself before he crashed into a metal shelf.Reese was on his feet, grabbing his shirt and jerking him forward.The man’s mouth sealed over his, and he tasted himself on Reese’s tongue.It spurred more desire, but he refrained.He knew without asking that Reese would balk at the idea of fucking him in that closet, although Brantley would’ve gladly bent over just to feel his husband inside him.
“Let’s get home,” Reese said when some of the intensity waned.
“Only if you promise to fuck me as soon as we get there.”
Reese smirked.“You’ll be lucky if we even make it inside.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Slade was lying in bed, staring upat the dark ceiling, when he heard the front door open.
After their meeting, he’d helped Becs with a few things, but found that there were too many hands in the pot after a while.Rather than start another fight, he’d slipped out while Atticus was talking to Archer.He knew it wasn’t rational, but the jealousy had been eating a hole through him all afternoon.
On top of that, he felt like an ass.
Then again, he kinda was an ass.Or he had been to Atticus earlier when he’d harped on the man about avoiding him.It hadn’t taken Atticus five seconds to get fed up with it, and honestly, Slade couldn’t blame him.He was doing it again.Being too needy, too clingy.It wouldn’t be long before Atticus decided it was too much for him.
And it wasn’t the first time in the past couple of days that Slade had fucked up.He’d practically accused Atticus of thinking Archer Halligan was hot.It was more of a kick in the pants that Atticus hadn’t even been thinking about their newest addition to the team.The guy was Atticus’s partner, for fuck’s sake.That didn’t mean they were going to have a secret rendezvous.Yet, for some fucked up reason, Slade’s insecurity got the best of him and when he looked at the two of them together, that was all he could think about.
Well, that and how he was going to make it up to Atticus.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think that would happen tonight.
It wasn’t until he was home that Atticus sent him a text to let him know he was having dinner with Carson.There was no invite, but Slade hadn’t expected one.He’d really fucked up this time.
Now, as he lay there, he wondered whether Atticus had come back alone or if Carson was with him.He didn’t care enough to get up to look.
Okay, that was a lie.He cared enough.But he wasn’t a glutton for punishment.Not tonight, anyway.If Atticus was leading Carson to his bedroom, he didn’t want to know about it.Best to go to sleep and find out tomorrow.
But he wasn’t perfect, so he listened intently, trying to capture the sound of footsteps that might tell him how many feet were moving down the hallway.He heard nothing except for the rapid beat of his heart as anxiety flooded his system.
Slade wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.Every single day, he found himself balancing on pins and needles, waiting to find out which way the wind was going to blow so he’d know which direction to move.He was in this vicious cycle, waiting to find out what Atticus did or did not want from him.When they were together, he didn’t wonder; he simply savored every second.When they were apart, he felt as though he was seconds from being pulled in two.
He’d considered confronting Atticus, asking him point-blank where he saw this going.But what if he was the only one who cared?What if Atticus saw him as the pain in the ass who needed more than a good fuck to feel like he was worth a shit?Slade didn’t want to be that guy.He was trying to go with the flow, to ignore his feelings, even as they intensified.
Truth was, he was pathetic.A sap who wasn’t built to sustain casual sexual encounters.It was the reason he’d never been able to maintain a real relationship.He was too needy, too—
A sharp knock sounded on his bedroom door a second before the knob turned.He didn’t even have time to call out before the door swung open.
“For fuck’s sake,” Slade hissed, sitting up straight, eyes locked on the two men stepping into the bedroom.The light was on in the hallway, so he saw mostly a silhouette, but enough to tell that Carson was fully dressed while Atticus didn’t have a stitch on.
“He’s not allowed to talk,” Carson explained, his tone casual.
Likely to prove his point, he was standing behind Atticus, one hand covering his mouth, the other wrapped firmly around Atticus’s cock.
“Turn on the lamp,” Carson instructed.
Slade didn’t look away even as he fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand.He was mesmerized by the rapid rise and fall of Atticus’s chest as Carson stroked his dick.
The lamp came on, bathing the room in soft white light, highlighting the ridges and valleys of Atticus’s muscular torso.Slade was still getting used to how much the man had changed during his time in Dallas.Atticus was on the small side as far as stature went.Probably around five-eight, maybe five-nine, with a slim build and small bone structure.Although Slade clocked in at six-two, two twenty-five, for some strange reason, he was fascinated by his smaller size.
When they met, Atticus had been rail-thin and slightly underweight, but that was no longer the case.During his time in training, he’d started working out, lifting weights, and eating healthy.It had allowed him to pack on some pounds—all muscle—and filled him out.And he’d stuck to the regimen of healthy eating—most of the time—and consistent workouts, which Slade found insanely hot.
“Move to the end of the bed,” Carson insisted as he urged Atticus forward.
