“Tate. Your back!”
“I know. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
I smirked and stroked myself quickly, and my boy appeared a second later and unceremoniously dropped his pants again. He hurried back to me, and I held my cock straight up.
As he sank down on me again, burying me in tight, slick heat, Franklin showed up in the doorway and did a double take at us. The sight was flustering him.
“Morning, Franklin.” I gripped Tate’s hip but kept my other arm folded behind my head.
“Ah…g-good morning, Sir,” he stammered.
“Mmm…” Tate blew out a breath and found a good pace.
I flicked a glance at Franklin. Suited up as always, handsome as fuck, and holding a paper bag that looked like he’d come straight from a bakery.
“You… You enjoy that level of pain?” he asked hesitantly. “You were at it like animals! And so many of you!”
I grinned and stroked Tate’s hip and ass cheek.
And Franklin was gonna be Franklin. Even in his evident worry for Tate—which I found fucking sweet—he was growing increasingly horny. He covered his crotch with the bakery bag.
“We love it,” Tate moaned. He slid a hand to my knee and went a little faster, stroking his cock at the same time. Fuck—that angle. The way he pressed my cock down when he rolled his hips forward.
I groaned under my breath, and my breathing sped up. “What’s in the bag, Franklin?”
He couldn’t tear his hungry gaze from Tate’s body. “I, uh…I brought you bagels. I’ll leave you be—if…maybe… May I stay until you’ve finished?”
I chuckled, out of breath, and began pushing back, deep into my boy’s ass. “If you were sweet enough to bring your concern and bagels, you’re staying for breakfast.”
“Fuck, just like that, Master,” Tate gasped. “Oh my God!”
“Oh my God,” Franklin echoed in a breath. He dropped the bakery bag and squeezed his cock through his pants. “You’re so beautiful together. Do you feel full and stretched in your little hole, Tate?”
“Yes,” he moaned. “I’m so close.”
I was getting there too. “Faster, baby. Fuck yourself as hard and fast as you can.” I glanced toward Franklin. “Take out your cock through the zipper. Nothing else, just your cock. Belt and clothes stay on.”
I thought about the sounds I’d heard from the bedroom when I came home yesterday. I thought about how Franklin had been Tate’s desperate, perverted, greedy Daddy. And I couldn’t wait to build on that dynamic for the three of us.
Franklin fumbled a bit with his zipper but obeyed as quickly as he could.
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and slammed Tate down on my cock, and pleasure exploded within me. “Show him how hard you get from watching me fuck our little boy. Show him what a filthy whore his Daddy is.”
Tate cried out, and then I felt a splash of something hot landing on my leg. He was coming.
Franklin groaned and pulled desperately at his cock.
“Don’t come,” I gritted out. “Fuck—fuck, fuck.” I screwed my eyes shut as my orgasm crashed down on me, and I drilled my cock as deep as I could into Tate’s ass and started coming.
“Please,” Franklin begged. “I only need a minute.”
“If Master says no, he fucking means it!” Tate snapped, completely out of breath. “Don’t ever defy my Owner, Daddy.”
I groaned. Their words fucked with my head in the sexiest ways, drawing out my climax until I was drained.
Hottest twist, this morning. Fuck. I needed a nap. I collapsed and threw an arm over my head.
Yeah, it was definitely going to be a good day.
“Daddy needs to come,” Franklin whispered pitifully.
“Daddy needs to slow his damn roll,” I said raggedly.
Daddy’s kink journey had just started.
And patience was a virtue. Or something to that effect.
EPILOGUE
A COUPLE WEEKS LATER
Kingsley Madden
“Baby, I’m home!” I threw my keys on the side table and shrugged out of my jacket. It’d gotten cold as fuck this week.
The smell of Chinese food and scented candles reached my nostrils. I was a fan of one of those things. The sandalwood and cotton candle, of which he’d bought four, could take a hike.
“Hurry if you wanna shower before we eat!” he hollered from the kitchen. “The food got here a couple minutes ago.”
I’d figured, when I’d seen the logo of our usual Chinese restaurant on a car right outside. It was probably the only restaurant in our area that wasn’t available on any of the food delivery apps. The old couple who ran the joint scoffed at such “novelty ideas.”
“It’s fine. I showered at work.” After taking off my shoes, I trailed into the kitchen. “Thank fuck we don’t have any plans this weekend.” That was a hint for the boy not to go and make any.
I’d been working overtime all week, and I was dead on my feet. But it was good money. Now that we’d transferred all our savings to a new account for the day we started a family, we needed to make extra money to afford our European vacation next year. So I was taking on all the overtime I could on bigger projects at work, and Tate had applied for a part-time administrative position at his school. It was supposedly only four to six hours per week, so it would bring in a nice chunk of money without draining him too much.