Page 79 of Dangle

“Too good. It’s so good.”

His hand grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “Color, baby boy.”

Oh God, he couldn’t stop. “Green!”

“Thank fucking God,” he groaned, his hands falling to my shoulders to hold me in place.

He fucked into me, this new position setting me on fire. My vision pulsed with my heartbeat. Air whooshed in and out, burning my lungs, clawing at my throat. My cock, lying soft on my belly, twitched, and everything seized. “Fuck!”

“Yo Abraham! You home?”

“What the…” Abraham?

“Shit!” Slone grunted, his rhythm gone as he thrust into me in short, hard bursts. His cock pulsed inside me, and he fell over me.

A giggled “Oops” sounded from the kitchen.

“Is that…”

“Ewen, what the hell are you doing in my fucking loft?”

TWENTY-ONE

SLONE

Trey’s face burned bright red under me.

“I’ll just be going,” Ewen said, snickering.

I lifted so I could see Ewen, pinning him with a glare. “You’ll stay fucking put.”

Leaning over, I kissed Trey’s forehead, remembering how much he fretted about Ewen not accepting Trey’s and my dynamic, but I also remembered him saying something about applying for the job if Ewen and I were together and needed a third. I whispered, “There will be no sharing you. Remember? Don’t even hint at it unless you want me to beat your ass. I have a closet full of belts and a dungeon full of canes, crops, and whips.”

He nodded with the tiniest pout. The fucking little shit. “A dungeon, you say?”

“Don’t even go there?” I slipped from his ass. “Get yourself upstairs and clean up. And remember the new rule?—”

“When here, Trey must wear Slone’s clothes because he’s a possessive fucker,” the boy said with a smirk.

He knew what it did to me when he dressed in my things. If he only knew how much I thought about locking him down permanently. Too soon. I knew it. Knowing it didn’t make me quit thinking about it.

“Brat,” I said affectionately, kissing him quickly before sitting back on my heels.

He scrambled to his feet, walking unabashedly naked toward the open tread staircase. At the bottom, he winked at me, then waved at Ewen and said, “Appreciate you waiting to barge in until I came. Twice.”

“Get your sexy ass upstairs.”

Trey giggled and walked slowly enough that my great-aunt Freya, who had just turned ninety years old, could’ve beaten him up the stairs. Once he was out of sight, I turned my attention to my snickering and giggling, meddling, nosy ass best fucking friend who I wanted to fucking hang off the roof by his fucking toes.

“I fucking hate you,” I said, walking through the kitchen to the bathroom to wash my hands.

“So, looks like little Slone’s perked back up along with big Slone,” Ewen said when I returned.

I ignored him to go back to the sofa for my joggers. I picked them up, turning to Ewen as I shook them out from where Trey had folded them, just the way I liked. If I preened a little, Ewen’s ass deserved it, the interrupting asshole.

“I hate you,” Ewen said as I pulled the pants on and adjusted the legs of them so they didn’t pull against my calves.

“You’ll get over it. Maybe you should quit dipping your wick in all the little honeypots throwing themselves at you and find a boy of your own.”