Prologue #4
There’s no way I can resist kicking the tires on this situation a little.
See how far he’ll let things go before he asks us to knock it off.
So I grab hold of his upper thigh. He coughs in surprise, but there’s a groan underneath.
It’s not clear to me whether Wes knows what he wants, but I know.
Adam and I get paid a lot of money to give men what they crave. We’re damn good at it.
“Adam, keep a lookout.”
“Got it,” my best friend murmurs. With one hand he adjusts his grip on Wes, and with the other he takes a slurp of his smoothie.
We’ve basically broadcast to the man between us loud and clear that we’re about to fuck with him, and yet? Every bit of him eases back against Adam. So, he hates that his brother is a sub but doesn’t seem to realize he’s basically got the same bent?
When I reach for his fly, he seems to wake up a little.
“What the hell are you?—”
He cuts himself off. I’m already pulling him out, stroking him rough and dirty. My hands are callused from side jobs working construction, and I don’t have any lube on me. Still, Wes is no wilting violet.
Imagine my excitement when a strained “Oh, God” comes out of his mouth. I do love being right.
For a second, he goes somewhere in his head. There’s a visible shift from a man in the moment feeling good to one who’s caught up in something else. It happens right before he goes to cover his dick as if he’s ashamed.
Nah. We’re not doing that today. Besides, I’ve seen all kinds of bodies, and the dick is never the problem. If anything, it’s the person the dick is attached to that’s a problem.
“Chill, Westy. Sit back. Let me make you feel good.”
“It’s Wes,” he groans. Does he press his head back against Adam, though? Do his eyes flutter closed for a second? Sweet hell, yes he does, and yes they do.
He bites his lips together as I touch him, only here and there making a quiet moan or a hiss. Whether he wants to admit it out loud or not, he likes this.
I keep half an ear out for the sounds of people elsewhere in the locker room, but everyone sounds far away right now.
Adam meets my eyes over the top of Wes’s head. He raises an eyebrow, wondering what my plan is, but he’s not exactly put out by it.
Giving him a grin, I say, “Got a live one here, Adam.”
Behind Wes, Adam’s leaning down to get a better look. He slides one hand across Wes’s chest, stroking those hard nipples through the guy’s shirt. My friend has the side of his face pressed against Wes’s, and I could swear they’re breathing in unison. Quiet moans. Short, heavy, heated pants.
Adam’s long hair is pulled back, which lets him rub his perpetual stubble against Wes’s face. I could swear Wes is rubbing back, like a needy kitten.
Our needy kitten. For now, at least.
“That’s a pretty looking cock you’ve got there, Westy,” Adam breathes.
“It’s not— oh God .” Wes cuts off his own protest.
Maybe because I’m spitting right on his cock.
Hey, man. Chafing is real, and we might want this guy to come back for seconds. This is already turning out to be far more interesting than expected.
“Somebody likes this,” I sing-song softly. “Don’t worry. We won’t tell. You sit there and fuck my fist like a good boy, and we’ll let you come.”
The sound that comes out of his mouth is so filthy and sweet that I want to roll around in it. Maybe it hurts, maybe part of him doesn’t think he should want what I’m giving him. Doesn’t stop him from thrusting into the tunnel of my fingers like it’s life or death.
By the time he comes, he’s shaking all over. He forgets himself, letting a loud moan slip out before Adam clamps a hand over his mouth from behind.
Pretty sure Wes is biting Adam’s fingers, because Adam gasps like he might get off himself. Hell. Fallon’s brother is wound tighter than we thought.
Keeping one hand pressed on Wes’s leg, I stare right into his hooded blue eyes while I lick him off of me. It’s not something I usually do, but I’m making a point here. I want this guy to sit here and watch me and know exactly who made him come.
He tastes good, too. Probably eats lots of fresh fruit.
Then the post-nut clarity sets in. His fuck-drunk eyes go from sleepy to wide. Something worse than regret comes over him. Shame.
“What the fuck was that?” he whispers. His parted lips are wet and puffy from being bitten.
A locker slams in the next row, which must remind him of where we are, because he stiffens and jumps. It’s the first time he flinches away from Adam’s touch, causing my best friend to let go.
“That?” I tuck his cock away and zip his slacks.
Never say I can’t be a fucking gentleman.
“Just showing you how letting someone control you can be sexy, babe. Fun even. It was fun, right?” I lean forward, letting my lips brush against his ear.
“Imagine what we could do to you if you weren’t so embarrassed by your own dick. ”
“It was—” We never get to hear the end of that sentence, though. In the end Wes only shakes his head, and Adam and I are disengaging before we wear out our welcome.
Gonna go ahead and assume his fried brain is a sign that we have a satisfied customer.
“Thought so. Kaybye, Westy.”
I grab my best friend’s hand and hustle for the door, though I kind of hope we’ll be having fun with him again.