Desperate Enemies 3 by Adam Carpenter (latest ebook reader .txt) 📕

him, had he used his body to such physical demands that he was lacking the emotional component?

Marc's eyes flew open, in time to see a fierce expression on Parker's face, reddened, nearly angry. It was like his body was here, but his mind was elsewhere. Just then Marc felt a sharp pain; Parker had thrust his body so hard he'd lost his balance and his cock went sliding out, impaling itself against Marc's smooth cheek. He howled in pain, refocused, then thrust again, this time driving hard inside Marc.

“Oww, Parker, wait. . . stop. . .”

Parker just roared with power, his thick body pummeling the smaller man beneath him. Sweat dripped from his face, dampening the thick mat of hair on his chest, a sight that would have normally had Marc shooting his load, but instead he found himself pushing against that chest, the abundance of hair now as unsightly as Parker himself. He'd gone all animal. The passion was gone, this was just sex, power. . . ownership.

“Take it, take it, yeah, that's it. . .” he said with another angry thrust, “take every inch of my huge cock, yeah, now, more, grab me, grab my body. . .”

But Marc had let his hands drop to his side, realizing there was no way to fight the man above him. It was easier to just lay there, limp as his cock, and wait until Parker had completely satisfied himself. As he waited out Parker's inevitable orgasm, Marc looked about the room, at the walls and ceiling, picturing whatever violence might have happened inside Number Two all those years ago, wondering if it was sex related as well. Men, women, they were different when it came to sex, whether from passion or desire of being engulfed in their own fiery needs, it was all consuming. It was never less shocking that an act so closely connected to conception could also bring such destruction, whether to a soul or a life itself.

Yes, death had happened in this room, Marc's mind flashing back to the stains he'd seen on these walls... the secret of this house, it had to explain all that had been happening. They had to finally unlock it, and perhaps they could save themselves.

Marc broke from his reverie as he heard Parker's roar, the wild animal above him at last reaching his climax, and he prepared himself for the final thrust.

“Grab me, yeah, Marc, I can't come until I feel your hands grabbing at me.”

Resigned, wanting. . . this over, Marc wrapped his body around Parker's, legs encased against that hairy ass, fingernails digging into his strong back, grabbing at whorls of thick hair that spread from his shoulders to his upper back. He yanked hard and Parker bellowed and then thrust with all his might and at last he cried out and his cock exploded; Marc feet ounces of come shoot out, the big head of Parker's cock expanding with each burst. Then, as Parker raised himself up, Marc noticed that his own cock was hard again, purely a physical reaction, and when Parker took hold of it and rubbed it against his furry belly, Marc felt climax build up inside him. As much as he tried to deny the explosion coming his way, wishing he could somehow silence it, come flew out of his cock, shooting against Parker's chest, his arms. Drops clung to the thick wiry hair.

“I told you,” Parker said, “you're mine; there's no way you can deny how you feel now. Tell me, Marc, tell me you love me.”

“Yes, Marc, tell him, tell Parker St. John how much you love being fucked by him, how much you love him.”

Both men turned to find Rich North standing before them, dressed only in a pair of tight black shorts.

“Rich. . .” Marc said, his voice fading after just one word.

Parker grinned. “Well, Rich, come to join us, have you? You're a bit over-dressed, if you can't tell.”

Parker slid his cock out of Marc, pulling off the condom. Drops of oozy come leaked out, landing on the carpet, embedding themselves as though forever a stain on the house. His cock, still hard, seemed almost accusatory, pointing toward Rich.

“You fucking bastard,” Rich said.

Marc hated to admit it, but he didn't know which of them he was talking to. All he knew was that guilt and shame, feelings of unworthiness, washed over him and he could barely look at the man he'd claimed to have loved, the man whom he'd betrayed. It didn't matter what Rich had done to him, it was Marc who had to live with what he'd done and realized that he was no longer the innocent victim. His destruction was complete, as naked as he was.

But the confrontation was as over as quickly as it had begun, as Rich, wiping at tears, just retreated from the house at Number Two Eldon Court, one more the tragic scene unfolding that devastated the lives of those affected. Marc stared first at the door, watching as it slammed shut, then gazed over with horror at Parker.

“What have I done?”

“He'll never take you back,” Parker said, “not know, not when he's seen us in action. He saw the way I made you come, the power that erupted from you, the passion.”

Marc visibly blanched. “No, you're wrong. . . and Rich, whatever happens. . . that doesn't mean you get me.”

“I already possess you, Marc,” he said, “the only thing left to do is leave Number Five, come live with me.”

Marc laughed, the sound hollow in the room, echoing in his empty heart. “Ha. I can't even live with myself.”

* * * *

Whether it was the revelation of the sexual relationship between Parker St. John and Marc Anderson or the ones made by Gerald Green, events on Wonderland had reached a crescendo, and within each of the beautiful Victorian houses on Eldon Court, storylines were converging. . .

At Number One, Dane and Sawyer, spent from making love all afternoon, settled in