Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“You ready to come for us?” he rasps, his voice sounding like sex. “You going to give Prescott your whole load?”
I nod, unable to speak.
Kit’s finger pushes deeper and hits my prostate. I go off like the fireworks on the fourth of July, stars swarming the corners of my vision. I throw my head back, relax into it, and enjoy as muscle by muscle, my whole body goes lax, and I sink into the mattress.
Slumping backward, I’m vaguely aware of Prescott and Kit kissing, the rustling of their clothes, but I’m too busy swimming in bliss to catch their second act.
It’s only when I sense them leaning over me that I open my eyes again. They’re both on their knees, each straddling one of my legs, while they jerk each other off.
“We’re close,” Kit tells me and glances down at my stomach in silent question.
“Make like the Beatles and come together. Right now. Over me.”
Kit laughs. “I don’t think that’s what they meant when they wrote that song.”
“I don’t care. Just come on me.”
Mark me as yours.
Give me everything you have.
Prescott spills first, but it doesn’t take long for Kit to follow. Their cum mixes on my skin, and my only regret is not telling them to come on each other so I could lick off every drop.
When they’re both finished, their chests heave, and I open my arms for them to fall into them.
It’s not the first time I’ve been in between them, but it’s usually them cuddling me, not the other way around. I like the reversal. Surprisingly.
Then again, there hasn’t been anything these guys have done that I haven’t enjoyed. We have our recurring dynamic that we seamlessly slip into. Kit is a power top, Prescott’s a switch, and I’m a total bottom, and that seems to be the way it is outside of sex too. At least when I’m with them.
But the thing I probably love most about what the three of us have is even in moments of irregularity, I’ve never felt out of place.
In fact, with them might be the only place I’ve ever been fully comfortable in my own skin.
They embrace who I am. Not who I’m supposed to be.
It’s why being away from them always sucks.
I don’t know if I can keep doing it before they break me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
kit
It’s amazing how much better I sleep when Brady and Prescott are wrapped around me. Sure, it’s like a furnace in here, and we’re a sweaty pile of limbs, but when I think about having to get on a plane tomorrow to go back to my apartment in Virginia where the sheets are cold and the bed is empty, I try to hold on to my perfect sleep that little bit longer.
That is until voices filter up the stairwell.
“Brady?” someone calls out. “Four?”
Brady bolts upright in between Prescott and me. “Fuck, that was my brother.”
“What was your brother?” Prescott sits up and yawns.
“Oh, Braaaaaaaaay.” New voice. A closer voice.
Brady groans. “And my dad.”
“Four, you better not still be in bed!” Different voice again.
“Shit, shit, fucking shit.” Brady climbs over me and throws on the first pair of underwear he comes across. Which happen to be mine. They’re way too big on him, but he’s too frantic to notice, and I don’t have the heart to point it out.
“My brother, my dad, and at least one uncle is here. That means more of them are going to show up any minute, and why the fuck can’t anyone pick up a damn phone anymore and send a simple text: Heads up, we’re surprising you, so you might not want to have two superhot navy SEALs in your bed when we get there. Is that so much to ask?” His jeans are on now, and then he picks up a shirt off the pile of clothes in the corner and throws it over his head. “You guys have to go.”
“We can’t hide out in here while you get rid of them?” Prescott asks.
Brady presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You don’t understand. There is no getting rid of my family. Peyton was supposed to go to Chicago to see our dads after his vacation. Four’s dads also live in Chicago, even though this is their house. If they’re all here, it’s because they’ve decided this one big fucked-up found family of queerdos is in need of quality time. I could tell them I had Ebola and they wouldn’t leave.”
My heart sinks. “So, that’s it? That’s all the time we get with you this weekend?” I’m not ready to say goodbye again. But to be fair, I’m never ready to say goodbye. We knew this was a possibility when showing up without warning, but when it worked out last night, I thought we’d have the whole weekend together.