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

hard prick rubbed along my leg. I loved it when a man could get off from a little sucking and humping.

Matthew pulled off. “Don't hold back.” He took me in deep again. His head bobbed in a quick rhythm that threatened to pull me into oblivion before too long. His hands found my ass, encouraged me to thrust.

I didn't argue with him. I heaved off the bed and into his slick, hot mouth. The movement was awkward without the use of my arms— or my legs, since Matthew still pressed down on me— but I kept moving. And he took it all.

Richard's voice penetrated the haze fogging my brain. “Damn, you two look good together.” He joined us on the bed and lay at my side.

The warmth of his body tempted me. I wanted to reach out and caress his hard pecs, feel the power, the flex of muscle. The ropes kept it a distant wish that almost had me pissed I'd asked to be retrained. A man like him deserved to be explored, touched, tasted.

I took a good look instead. Toned body, broad chest. He had a strong face, his nose a little crooked. The slight dusting of chest hair was as blond as the hair on his head. I wanted to run my tongue through it. Taste his flesh.

That's when I noticed it. A wide, raised scar from his right nipple to his left underarm. It was faint, but that could have had more to do with the passage of time than the wound itself. The damage had been bad when it was fresh. Painful. Bloody.

My mouth opened. What the hell could I say? His past was none of my business. I had my own scars— though none were what he could see— and I sure as hell wasn't going to share with some guy I met at the club.

Then I didn't give it another thought.

Matthew shoved a wet finger in my ass. I thrust one last time. My upper body left the bed, jerking the ropes tight, and I cried out as I came, the shrill sound nothing like me.

It was all what I wanted.

But I needed more. I wanted Richard to fuck me, take me while I yanked at the ropes, while I felt the push, the burn, the surrender.

Matthew rested his head on my thigh and exhaled heavy pants that mirrored my own. When his breathing slowed, he knelt between my legs. If the ropes weren't holding me back, I'd have taken him in my hand. His eyes, half-closed and hazy with need, studied me. He brought his lips to mine. The kiss was slow and tender. How could he hold back like that when he was so close to the edge?

Richard knelt behind him. I missed the warmth of him, the touch of his solid body at my side.

Matthew leaned back against his chest. “Dang, you feel good.”

“Yeah? How's this feel?” Richard drew his hand across Matthew's chest and teased a nipple. The other hand pumped his cock. The massive fist spread precum over the shaft.

Matthew's hips moved. His head rolled from side to side. “Yeah. That... that's... your hands are huge and... talented.” He wrapped his fingers around my cock and pulled in rhythm with Richard's hand on his own.

Before long, sensations overwhelmed me, my dick willing itself back to full interest. I'd never had such a quick turnaround. Not even at Matthew's age. Those hands and kisses were like nothing else.

Matthew turned his head and kissed Richard. The younger man's light skin and lean body were a fascinating contrast to Richard's darker skin and ripped muscles.

But I wasn't into watching. I wanted to touch, to fuck, to suck, or to be the one getting the same. Yet there was something about them— the size difference, their noises, the way they moved together as Richard rubbed along Matthew's back.

I arched off the bed. “I want... I need... Fuck.” I wanted to feel them. I yanked at the ropes. I needed the touch, the warmth. They were driving me crazy.

“Uh-huh.” Richard eyed me over Matthew's shoulder. “I'm going to fuck you, Luke. And you're going to suck Matthew.”

“That's... I won't argue with that.”

“Yeah,” Matthew said. He scurried up my body and straddled my chest.

Was it just sex, or was he that eager about everything in life? Did he still run for the tree and presents after he shot out of bed on Christmas morning? Fifteen years since I'd left home, and the only time I celebrated anything was when I got a promotion at work. And that had been a celebration for one with a six-pack.

Richard stroked my thighs. I quivered at the simple touch. They're just hands. What the hell's the big deal?

“I left your legs untied,” he said. “I want to feel your legs wrapped around me.”

“Good. That's... um... good.” The sight of Matthew's prick pushing through his own hand distracted me from forming more words.

Richard handed Matthew a condom.

“Bring that here, kid,” I said. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Uh-huh. I haven't had a blowjob in forever.”

Forever? How long was that? Before him, I hadn't had one in five days. And that had been a long stretch for me.

He rolled the condom on and shifted until his knees settled on each side of me. The scent of leather and his crisp cologne flooded my nostrils. Not overwhelming. Subtle and soothing. It made me want him more. Did he slather his dick and balls in the stuff as some sort of aphrodisiac?

He brought his cock to my lips, and I opened for him, sucking the tip until he dripped with my saliva, then taking in more of him.

Richard lifted my legs and angled my hips. Slick fingers brushed over me, stroking again and again before finally pushing in. I moaned around the cock in my mouth.

Matthew's head jerked back. Open and responsive, spread over me, he was one of the sexiest men I'd ever seen.

Richard pressed his big fingers in more. Teased.