We Have Till Monday
Fuckin’ hell, he was killing me. My cock strained in my jeans.
“Grope you properly,” he murmured. “Suck you off long and hard.”
“August, for chrissakes,” I hissed.
“Fuck, that sounds good.” The possessiveness seeping from his voice nearly did me in. “Camden and I have been exclusive for years, and safety’s important to us. Do we have anything to worry about?”
They were going straight for unprotected sex?
“I’m safe.” I furrowed my brow, struggling to clear the fog. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked without a rubber.” That included oral, because I’d never had that level of trust established with Shawn, and he hadn’t been all that fond of exclusivity. “I have condoms with me, you know.” It made sense if they didn’t since they were in a committed relationship of the kind I hadn’t experienced in probably over a decade.
“I’ll leave that to you.” King touched my cheek. August. Not King. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Are you that different in the South?”
He grinned. “Probably not. You’re the one who’s different—to us. And I’m asking if my boy and I can trust you. If we can make an exception and go all in without anythin’ in the way.”
The implication was dizzying, as was the prospect of being completely uninhibited and natural.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Perfect.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Then I’m going to be so bold and ask you to check in on Camden while I prepare the grill.”
“Wait, right now?”
“Yes.”
All right, but…so much had happened in the past few hours. Last time I saw Camden, I’d shaken his hand, spotted a snake slithering up his thumb, and wondered if he’d followed me on Insta under a username that uploaded shadowed photos of two naked men. Him and August. And now, I was on the path toward sharing their bed tonight.
“I spoke to him before I showered,” he admitted, brushing his fingers through my hair. Mildly distracting. “A few plans have changed, and he can fill you in on everythin’.”
“Okay.” There was no other answer. I wouldn’t be able to resist anything they offered.
I was in Tennessee to live a little, right?
“Where’s your bedroom?” I asked.
“He has his own room. Just take the stairs. You can’t miss it.”
They didn’t share a bedroom?
King eased off with a faint smirk. “He knows his boundaries, and he’s good at talkin’. You’ll understand better soon.”
I hoped so.
“Just…one thing.” A sense of severity and hesitation flicked in his gaze. “He’s in the middle of regressing. If he makes you uncomfortable at any point, be firm but kind. He’s not made of glass, but he does get hurt easier when his barriers are down.”
Something intense surged up inside me, an impatience I hadn’t felt before. I wanted to see Camden that way. Unfiltered, vulnerable, little.
“I don’t take this lightly,” I said.
“Good.” He patted my cheek gently. “I’ll come get you when the others arrive.”
Nerves tightened my stomach. Excitement and anticipation too. August walked down the hall, toward the center of the house, and I managed to get my feet moving to the stairs.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was getting myself into, but it was exhilarating. Another feeling I’d been missing for so long.
When was the last time I was involved in a threesome? I’d always loved those. I was affectionate in the sack, and having two men to give all my attention to never failed to satisfy.
Four doors were waiting for me upstairs, two on each side of the short, wide hallway, and August had been right. There was no mistaking Camden’s room for any other, and it made me grin. With all the other doors painted perfectly white, his was completely covered in stickers. Plus, it had his name on it.
The boy was a fan of Marvel, Star Wars, and Transformers.
I knocked twice on the door and hoped Camden was ready for a good-natured third degree about a certain NSFW account.
It had to be him.
I wondered if August knew, though.
“Come in!” Camden hollered.
Chapter 6
Oh Carolina
“We’re in the South, y’all,” I said. “Wouldn’t be right if we came here and didn’t play any songs that fit right in.” Which meant, it was time to crank shit up.
My fingers fell over the strings, and I took the lead with Nicky playing rhythm. Luiz and Chris joined in too. We raised the tempo gradually, and my brother and I exchanged a laugh when he accidentally flicked away his pick. I improvised a short, bluesy lick to delay his cue, and then I dove right into the first verse once Nicky was back on track.
It was the perfect song to work up a sweat to.
“Give them something to move to, Sylvia,” I instructed into the mic, retrieving my bottleneck slide from my pocket. Sliding the metal tube along the strings altered the pitch and gave us a more raw sound. “We’re not here to stand still, are we?”