More by Sloan Parker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

clothes and computer programming books stacked in the corner. I spent my money on what I had sitting on top of the desk— the computer and digital video equipment.

I didn't fear my father. But I didn't like giving him the satisfaction of knowing where I lived.

It had become a game. He'd spend resources and time tracking me. I'd spend my money and wits knowing when he was close and getting the hell out before his men could figure out I'd made them.

I swallowed a gulp of coffee and hissed with the burn.

It was going to be a long day.

I reached for the keyboard and entered my password. Two monitors flashed on. I checked the video feeds from the night before and knocked back the rest of the coffee. Several interior and exterior views of my apartment displayed on the screens. The previous eight hours replayed in fast forward.

Nothing. No movement. No unexpected guests. The extra precautions on the way home the night before had paid off.

One more day in Shangri-la.

I stared at the current video feeds, but I no longer saw the screens before me, or the apartment around me. The dimly lit room from the previous night glided into view. I felt Richard's hands upon my hips, his cock deep inside me, Matthew's lips on my dick, his sucking and swirling that brought me to my first of two orgasms.

I was getting hard. Again.

Determined not to take the matter in hand after the morning spent fighting for an orgasm, I reset the hidden cameras and the computer password and logged off the system. I grabbed my laptop bag and stepped out into the hall to complete my usual routine: triple-check the lock and add the translucent tape at the base of the door. Not a sophisticated system, but it allowed me to know before entering if there was a chance I wouldn't be alone.

The challenging part of my day was getting to and from work without being followed. I backtracked more than once and never took the same route twice in one week. The same procedure I followed to get to the Haven.

I ran a hand through my hair as I made my way down the stairwell. The swell in the front of my pants rubbed against the tight fabric with each step.

It was going to be one hell of a long day.

Chapter Four

I stormed into my apartment four hours later, the earliest ever on a Saturday. I slammed the door shut and hurled my keys onto the desk. By the time I entered the bathroom, I had every button of my shirt undone. I pushed the fabric off and onto the floor.

My pants were next. I undid the zipper and shoved my hand inside. My ass hit the sink.

“Fuck.” I hadn't been so desperate while all alone in a long time.

I wrangled my pants off, turned on the shower, and stepped under the spray. A quick grope in the shower caddy produced the lube. I clicked the lid open one-handed and squeezed the contents over my dick and the hand working it. The cool lubricant ran down to my balls.

I pressed my forehead to the shower wall. The tip of my cock brushed at the cool fiberglass wall with each stroke. I imagined my hand was Matthew's mouth and the wall was the back of his throat as he took me deep.

“God, Matthew.”

It might have been the first time I'd ever talked out loud to an imaginary partner while I was doing myself alone, but I didn't care. My hand felt amazing. And it wasn't just my talent in pleasuring myself. It had more to do with the vividness of my pretend participant. His fictional mouth and tongue slid over my shaft, licked the slit, and sucked me long and hard.

“That's it, Matthew. Swallow it. Swallow me.”

I came fast with a loud moan. My body shook under the warm water. I leaned against the wall until breathing didn't require every cell in my body, then washed up and fondled myself. My dick twitched like I hadn't gotten off yet. I cranked the water off and moved my private party to the bedroom.

Before getting in the bed, I rummaged through the closet and seized the bag of toys tucked in the bottom of a lone box. I dug inside and sighed when my hand met the large dildo, the realistic type complete with balls. I hadn't wanted to use it— needed to use it— since before I joined the club.

I set the dildo next to the lube on the bed and crawled on top of the blankets. I stroked myself, pinched my nipples, and rolled my balls until I was hard again, panting and wanting more. I slicked my fingers and rode them. But it wasn't me. It was Richard filling me. First with his wide fingers, and then, when I slammed the dildo in, it was his cock pounding into me.

My hips rocketed off the bed. A fierce gasp exploded out of me.

I lay with my chest heaving for several minutes, long after I removed the dildo and wiped away the evidence of my pleasure. I hadn't come that hard by myself since college, since I'd last thought about any man in particular when I jerked off.

I wanted to sleep and put distance between myself and the sexual fantasies. Sleep wouldn't come though, and my thoughts wandered to those long-ago college days.

I spent the last two years of school with one man after another. It was then I first experienced a threesome— two nameless men torturing me with pleasure.

That was after my father took everything from me. After I'd last slept with the same man more than once. After I'd lost the only person I ever let myself fall for.

I rolled over, buried my face in the pillow, and gave myself permission to remember the last time we made love.

"Luke, love you. God, love this."

"Tim."

He pushed in. His cock drove past the tight ring of muscle