Corbin (The Theriot Family)

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum and watch it drip out of you right here on this counter. We’re buying this house, and I’m going to do this again and again.”

“Yes! Yes, please. I want this. I want us here together. I want you to take me like this every fucking day.”

He wrapped his hand around my cock and worked me. It took only seconds before I cried out, letting myself go. He came right after me, thrusting deep into my ass. I loved the hot, wet feel of his spunk and the way he pulled all the way out when he was done, then fucked it back into me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, running his hand through the cum on my stomach. “And you’re all mine.”

“Yes, all yours. You really want to buy this house?”

He gripped my wrists sliding them along the counter until he had them pinned over my head. He bent and kissed me, and I arched up, rubbing my cum-slick abdomen against him. “This is the right house.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re tired of looking?”

“No, I’m saying it because this one feels right, the windows, the sun, the perfect island for kitchen sex.”

He was right. “I didn’t know how to explain it, but the house had felt right since we’d stepped inside. I’d been second-guessing myself, but I needed to stop looking for perfection. Beau was perfection. It didn’t matter where we lived.

“You’re right. This is perfect for us.” I reached up and cupped his cheek. “You’re perfect for me. I love you so much.”

He kissed me softly and nipped at my lower lip. “I love you too. I love when you challenge me. I love the way you give yourself to me. I love it when you’re sassy and when you turn aggressive. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Corbin Theriot.”

“You absolutely can. I’m all yours.”

I heard something that sounded like footsteps on the porch. Beau tensed, and we both looked out, but I didn’t see anything. Maybe it had just been a squirrel or a bird or something.

Beau must have thought the same because he kissed me, and I lost myself in him once again.

Lance

I’d given Beau and Corbin plenty of time to thoroughly check out the house. We needed to get to the next one if I was going to make it to the lunch date I had planned. I was meeting up with a dancer I’d chatted up at a bar the other night, and I was hoping there’d be more time spent in bed than eating. We could pick up lunch when we were done.

I’d spent way too much time around Remington and Henri and Beau and Corbin, watching them make eyes at each other and touch each other constantly. It was making me long for… something. I hoped I just needed a good, hard fuck. It had been too long for me.

No way did I want that lovey-dovey bullshit they had. I was glad they were happy, but I couldn’t see myself like that. I did however see myself buried inside a very flexible dancer, letting go of all the tension that had built up over the last several weeks.

I pulled up at the curb in front of the house Beau and Corbin were touring, hopped out, and walked up the sidewalk. When I reached the porch steps, I froze. Corbin was stretched out on the kitchen island in plain view of the street. He was naked and Beau was between his legs. I backed away. I did not want to see my little brother like that, but my cock hardened anyway. It really had been too long. I needed something, someone.

But would it be enough? I could see the connection between Beau and Corbin, and I envied it.

I was jolted from my thoughts by Tony racing up behind me and climbing up my leg. I’d told him to stay in the car, but he never listened.

I backed away from the house as quietly as I could. Maybe I should call Corbin instead of going in. Before I could, my phone rang. It was Remington.

“I’ve got a job for you,” he said when I answered.

“What kind of job and when?”

“Right now. I need you to retrieve some information an associate left for me.”

“What kind of information? What associate?”

“I can’t give you a lot of details on this one.”

“Since when do you keep secrets from me?”

“Since the safest thing is for only one of us to know the connection.”

I frowned at the phone. “Remington, what is this about?”

He sighed. “You’re aware of the heist at Le Musée des Trésors that took place last week?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve got a lead on where the goods can be recovered.”

“So we’re into that line now?” The theft of art and artifacts had never been a specialty for our family, though Remy and my father were collectors.