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

raised an eyebrow. “I'm beginning to understand that's a good thing, Luke.”

Matthew laughed. The sound eased my nerves. I was already addicted to that low giggle.

Hell, I was already addicted to both of them. Maybe I needed to sign up with a twelve-step program before this got out of hand.

Chapter Ten

I left Richard's house unsure how I'd gotten into what I'd agreed to, and why the hell I'd agreed to it in the first place.

I was pretty far gone in lust when he'd suggested Matthew and I stay. If he'd asked me at the Haven before he'd fucked me, I'd have laughed until I puked. But having the man's dick up my ass did things to me. Combine that with Matthew, and I had no control left.

My attraction to them was powerful, and it hadn't waned since I'd met them. And it wasn't just the sex. I liked them. Matthew was funny. His good mood rubbed off on me. And Richard knew how to work me and push me like no one else. He was the take-control kind of person. I'd never have guessed I would agree to live with a man like him. Not considering the father I'd been on the run from most of my adult life.

The best sex of my life had seriously fucked with how I liked to live.

We'd exchanged phone numbers, and Richard promised he'd check his schedule before he called to tell us what time to be at his house on Friday night.

In less than one week, I'd be living with them. Two men I hardly knew. Two men I'd already slept with. Two men I'd spent the night with, talking, laughing, eating, with not one ounce of cum spilled.

It was all too much to contemplate.

In spite of that, a smile emerged on my face as I hailed a cab. What would my father say if he knew? It would drive the man crazy.

But when the hell had I ever done anything to either please or piss the man off? Never. I did what I wanted to do. I played by my own rules.

Then why the hell am I breaking all of them? To be with a man whose thick cock filled me like no one else's? Or a guy— not much more than a kid— who could keep a man hard after a long blowjob?

No, it was more than that. Was I ready?

I stopped off at a bar a block from my apartment. After three beers in less than fifteen minutes, I felt no concerns at all and laughed at how I'd have to pack my shit by the next Friday.

By the seventh beer, the bartender cut me off. Never did hold my alcohol all that well.

I'd just taken a swig of coffee when a man sat on the stool next to mine. I watched him swallow a gulp of his beer. Dark hair complemented his high cheekbones and bronzed skin. He set the bottle on the bar and glanced my way. He looked familiar. Had I slept with him before?

Even though the bar was usually heterosexual when it came to pickups, I was convinced the man was going to ask me for what I'd just agreed to give up— a quick fuck in the men's room or a back-alley suck.

“You're pretty drunk,” Mr. Not-So-Innocent said.

“Uh-huh.”

The heat of his body washed over me as he closed the distance between us. “You need help to find your way home?”

“Nope. Got it covered.” My words slurred. I was fucked. Even in a non-inebriated capacity, it'd be hard to turn the man down.

It wasn't like my dick controlled me, but some reactions were hard to ignore— especially when you hadn't had to do so for fifteen years.

His stare pierced me. It unnerved something deep in my chest. I forced myself to look away. I needed to finish the coffee, let a few minutes pass since my last drink, and hit the street. I didn't need to be sober to make it to my apartment.

“Your father wouldn't want anyone to see you like this.”

His words sent a chill up my spine before my brain managed to capture their meaning. I whipped my head in his direction, and my sobering mind put all the pieces together.

Barry Fowler. He'd worked for my father as an assistant since I was in high school. He'd also managed my father's senatorial campaign. And obviously still worked for him, doing dirty little tasks like following the man's gay son into a bar. But he had never been one of the men following me before. Why now?

“Fuck you, asshole.” I managed not to slur any of those words.

“No, I don't play for your team. You won't be getting a fuck from me.” The man's voice had changed. It contained the same level of contempt my father's held when I last heard the man speak to me. The tone made his next words sound odd at best. “I want to make sure you get home safely. Get you out of here before someone sees you.”

“No one knows who the hell I am. Leave me alone.”

“I'm taking you home.” His hand clutched my arm and yanked me off the stool.

“Don't touch me.” I jerked away. Unsteady on my drunken feet, I stumbled two steps and groped for the barstool.

“I know it isn't far, but I'd prefer to help you get there before you do anything embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for me or my father?” I threw enough cash on the bar to cover my bill and stumbled toward the exit. I heard his steps behind me. I spun around. “Are you the one who was in my apartment?”

He crowded me against the wall.

“Did you find anything you liked? I have a dildo in the closet you should try. Although it might be too big for your tight ass.”

“Shut up. Let's get you home.” He yanked on my arm again.

I shoved him away. “Why does he always need to know where I live? Why does he have me