16. Wilder
We spend the next couple of hours drinking, dancing, and having fun, and I deserve a damn medal for being pressed against Prescott Lamont without bending him over and fucking him in front of everyone.
If it were up to me, we’d have already left and I’d have him spread out beneath me, taking my cock, but it’s been worth it to see the easy smile on his face.
I can try to deny it all I want, but the fact of the matter is, I want him.
I know he felt my erection against him, just like he knows I felt his, but neither of us acted on it, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Being openly gay, I have never shied away from my desires, but it’s not the same for him.
I know he wants me, it’s been written all over his face the entire night, but if there is one thing I know about him, he doesn’t do anything for himself.
Fucking the night we met can be classed as a drunken mistake, for both of us.
Kissing him at the castle was a lapse in judgement on my part, but to cross the line a third time would be doing so knowingly.
And fuck if I don’t want to drag him across it with me.
I wasn’t joking when I told him we shouldn’t have kissed, because I knew the second our lips met that things were different, that he was different.
If I’m being truly honest with myself, I knew it that night on the balcony, because even though I was sad, drunk, and stoned, he still called to me.
He’s the complete opposite of what I usually go for, and yet I am enthralled by him.
I know he’s the last thing I need right now, especially when he’s still in the closet, and I’ve got skeletons in mine, so why can’t I leave him alone?
We’re back at the table now, both panting and sweating after all the dancing we did, and my entire body is buzzing with need.
The glitter on his face is now perfectly smudged, and it’s taking everything inside of me to not make it worse.
He’s both an affliction and an antidote, equally lethal in making my life hell, and I’m torn between freeing myself or drowning completely.
A different waiter drops off our next drink, much to my amusement, and I spot Prescott smirking too, as he picks it up and takes a sip. “I guess he took the hint,” he muses, eyeing me over the rim of his glass, and I am once again granted the pleasure of watching him swallow.
“Lucky for him,” I reply, not hiding the possessive lilt to my tone, and once again he blushes beneath my attention.
“Do you enjoy scaring people away from doing their job?” His question is seemingly innocent, but I can tell from the look in his eye that he knows exactly why I did it.
“Only when they are pissing me off,” I answer truthfully, and I’m not sure if my answer thrills or repulses him. Probably a bit of both.
“And what was so wrong with what he was doing?” he dares to ask, and my eyes narrow in his direction, the tension building around us.
“Did you want him to fuck you?” My question is a little forward, but if he wants to talk about it then we are going to talk, and his eyes widen.
“I don’t know,” he starts, but I quickly cut him off.
“It’s a yes or no question, Prescott,” I ensure to drag out the pronunciation of his name, just to piss him off. “The waiter was looking for an easy fuck, and you were his target.” I’m not trying to be an asshole, just stating the facts, but he doesn’t seem to be affected.
“Maybe an easy fuck is what I wanted,” he replies firmly, the polite tone he uses on everyone else now long gone.
“Is it?” I toss back, more desperate for the answer than I want to admit, and he sighs, looking a little defeated.
“It’s what I need,” he finally confirms, and it’s only now that I truly see all of him.
Prescott’s job may be watching me, but I have been watching him too, closer than he probably realizes.
Which means I know that, despite how warm he is to everyone, how polite, he never invites them closer than necessary.
He keeps everyone at arm’s length and now I’m wondering if it’s a defense mechanism instilled in him by his father.
I don’t exactly know what his deal is, but I’m guessing given his son’s position in the closet, and the fake girlfriend on his arm, that Prescott Lamont III rules his family with an iron fist.
So much so that his son keeps a shield around himself, and even when he thinks he is letting it down on nights like this, it’s barely even lowered.
I’m guessing he’s never pursued anything beyond a quick fuck, hence the night on the balcony, but what about the castle?
Sure I was the one who kissed him, but he didn’t exactly push me away.
No, instead he has silently pulled me into this maddening need for more, and he should know I don’t let anything get in my way when I want something.
Before I can open my mouth, Matteo throws himself beside me, startling us both. “Fuck, is it hot in here?”
I keep my eyes on Prescott, as I respond, “Yes, it is getting rather hot.” Another deep swallow works its way down his throat at my words, and I wink.
“Where are the whores?” Matt adds in question, looking around in wonder, but he won’t find them.
“They left an hour ago.” Knox and Beckett left the club with the twins they were dancing with all night, and honestly, I expected Matt to leave with that couple.
“I guess your efforts weren’t as successful, considering you’re back here with us,” I add, giving him my attention, and when his eyes land on mine, he assesses me closely.
“Then I guess it’s just the three of us tonight, mi amigos.” He doesn’t ask where Prescott and I have been, and I don’t bother telling him, just watch as he moves to close out our tab.
When I turn back to Prescott, I note immediately, that whatever moment was happening between us is long gone, and I sigh inwardly. It’s probably for the best, and when Matteo returns we decide to call it a night.
It’s almost 3 a.m. when we stumble back onto the yacht, and the bartender from earlier comes running from his cabin to make us another pitcher of cocktails, before Matteo dismisses him for the night.
I know I should go to bed, that there is far too much alcohol swirling in my veins to make staying here a good idea, but I can’t leave them alone.
Matt has been flirting up a storm the whole way home, and I know from experience exactly what he needs.
A thought that makes me irrationally angry, because if an easy fuck is what Prescott needs, then Matteo is the perfect candidate. He’s always down for some no strings attached fun, and never lets it affect his friendships. So why haven’t I just gone to bed and left them to it?
We are currently sitting across two sectional curved sofas, listening as Prescott rambles about Ancient Greece.
Matteo keeps offering up questions about the topic, whereas I am just sitting back and letting his words wash over me.
I’m not sure how he knows so much about history, but I enjoy listening to him.
He talks animatedly with his hands, using his phone to find information on facts he doesn’t know, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
Unfortunately for me, neither can Matteo, and it has me wanting to rip his fucking eyeballs out of his head.
Prescott moves to get himself a drink and we both track him the entire way. “I can’t believe how good he looks tonight,” Matteo drawls at my side in Spanish, and I can only grunt in response, pulling his stare to mine. “You don’t agree?” he asks, giving me his full attention.
I try to keep my voice as smooth as possible, as I respond, “I didn’t really notice.” The lie burns my tongue as I say it, and Matteo’s eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Really? Because I thought I sensed something between you two?” Of course he did, he doesn’t miss a fucking thing, but instead of warning him away like I want to, I dig my heels in and deny.
“You thought wrong, it’s nothing,” I snap a little too harshly, and like the smug prick he is, he pushes me even further.
“So he’s fair game then?” He leans back against the sofa as he says it, spreading his arms out wide, making himself look all the more inviting, and I grind my jaw.
“Go for it.”
I want to take the words back as soon as I say them, but I heard what Prescott said back at the club, an easy fuck is all he can have.
With his stare still on mine, Matteo calls out to him.
“Reed, did I tell you how good you look tonight?” he purrs, that seductive tone of his out in full force, as the man in question makes his way back to us.
Before he can sit back down on the sofa opposite us, Matteo tugs his hand until he lands in the empty space he has made between us.
“You look good enough to eat,” he adds, making Prescott squirm, his stare darting to mine.
My fingers are digging into my thighs so hard, I think I might break the skin through my pants.
I can tell from the way he is shifting between us that there is intrigue about what the hell is going on here, and I know that he’s drunk enough to let it happen.
I don’t own him, I have no true reason to stop him, except for the incessant need inside of me to make him mine.
So when Matteo leans in to kiss him, I almost see red.
I know I said I shouldn’t have kissed him, and I was right, but if I can’t kiss him, no one can.
I grip Prescott’s chin between my fingers before Matteo’s lips can make contact, and tug his head roughly toward me.
Matt is smirking knowingly in my peripheral vision, but my gaze remains firm on Prescott.
He’s looking back at me in anticipation, but still I see a flicker of apprehension.
I’m sure it’s because he never lets himself give in to his desires, and I’ll happily be the one to change that.
“Tell me, pretty boy, have you ever had a threesome?” I ask daringly, enjoying the red tint it brings to his cheeks, as Matteo finally drops his lips to his neck.
Prescott tries to turn back toward him, but I tighten my hold on him.
“Ah, ah, ah, eyes on me when I’m talking to you, Blue.
” Prescott slowly shakes his head in response, swallowing thickly, as Matteo’s tongue starts to tease his pulse point.
I don’t want him anywhere fucking near him, but I know this is the game I have to play right now.
“Matt,” I snap, pulling his attention to me while mine remains on Prescott. “Get on your knees, putico.”
Matt chuckles lightly, but does as he’s told, sliding down off the sofa until his knees hit the deck with a thud.
“Whatever you say, mi pequeno salvaje.” Once he is in position he doesn’t move, he knows better, he’s waiting for his next command like the submissive little slut he is, but he’s not the focus of tonight.
“An easy fuck is what you need, huh?” I ask Prescott, my breath ghosting over his mouth, and he licks his lips, no doubt expecting me to kiss him again.
As if I’d make it that easy for him. “Matt, be a good boy and take out his cock for me.” At my command, the tension around all of three of us heightens, but Matt obeys instantly, as I force Prescott’s stare to remain on mine.
Matteo makes quick work of unzipping Prescott’s pants, and I help him shove them down his hips, all the while not letting those ocean blue eyes leave mine. “Mierda,” Matteo curses at the sight of his dick, and it takes everything in me to not look down.
That night on the balcony, I didn’t get a look, not properly, and when all he needs is an easy fuck, I don’t see the point in indulging now. This will be quick and dirty, just like he wants.
“Spit on it, get it nice and wet,” I command, listening to him as he obeys, and savoring in the sharp curse that falls from Prescott’s mouth, as Matteo palms his now slick cock.
My thumb reaches up and brushes along his lips, remembering exactly how pliant they were beneath my own. My own cock is hard and leaking in my pants, desperate to be inside of him again, but if this can only be casual, then I need to deny myself a little longer.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t play with him.
“Now stroke it for me, nice and slow.”
Matt does as I ask and Prescott hisses at the movement, once again trying to look down and watch what is happening to him.
“Don’t make me tell you again, Blue,” I whisper, leaning in and dragging my mouth up along his jaw until I reach his ear. “You already know how well I like my fuckholes to behave.” My tongue dips into his ear, making him groan, and fuck I want that sound and more, but I want them only for me.
“May I?” Matt pleads from below us, reminding me of his presence, and when I look down, I find his pupils completely blown out in lust.
Prescott’s cock is long and firm in his hand, looking slick and silky between his fingers, and my mouth fucking waters at the sight. Right now, the only thing I want Matteo to do is jump off the side of this damn boat and drown himself, but hey, sharing is caring, right?
I force one firm nod, keeping Prescott’s head turned away, and then watch as Matteo leans forward and slowly teases his crown with his tongue.
Prescott moans into my ear, making my cock spill even more precum, but I don’t take my eyes off his dick.
I imagine I’m the one on my knees for him, tonguing his crown, and at the same time I imagine slitting Matteo’s throat for touching what’s mine, coming to only one conclusion.
I’m completely and utterly fucked.