Page 20 of Broken Highway (Cult Boys #1)

NOAH

After almost thirty years of living, I believed I knew everything about myself there was to know. Apparently not, because I’ve only just learned that I do in fact share.

Three men walk into a motel room.

The joke?

I suppose that punchline comes later.

Tall, blond, twink boy has a name, Trent, but I’m content only referring to him as The Other Guy.

He’s not important enough for me to remember.

Once Seven gets this threesome thing out of his system, The Other Guy will be as good as gone.

I’m surely not adding a backseat passenger to what’s supposed to be a solo road trip. My car is already crowded enough.

The three of us sit on the bed in our underwear with the Other Guy in the middle.

All of our clothes lie in scattered disarray upon the stained carpet of the familiar motel room.

Seven convinced me to turn back around, to go back to the same place we’d left only a few hours earlier.

Housekeeping hasn’t even come through yet, because there’s a half-empty bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand that we accidentally left behind.

Thus another rule of mine was broken—to never stay in the same place twice.

“Should we close the curtain?” Other Guy questions, moaning between each word as Seven and I brush our tongues over each of his ears. “Someone might see us.”

“Let them watch,” I whisper into his ear and then I meet Seven’s gaze on the other side of the stranger. “That’s the point, right?”

Seven takes the bait. He palms a hand over Other Guy’s cheek and meets him at his mouth. A soft brush of lips first and then something hungrier, wetter. All the while, his gaze never breaks from mine.

Not one to be outdone, I pry Other Guy from Seven and dance the same tango. Bite gently at his lower lip and give it a tug. Brush my tongue over his and then pull it into my mouth.

Seven brushes his hand over Other Guy’s shaved chest and reaches inside his white boxer briefs. He puts on a show as he strokes him underneath the fabric, the ridges of his knuckles pressing against the surface. Precum seeps through the white cotton, leaving behind a print of the cock slit.

Other Guy gasps, the sound echoing at the back of my throat.

The sound of which magnifies the throbbing of my cock. I reach down, free my hardness through the piss hole of my boxers and begin to stroke myself. It’s mostly a dry jerk with only a smattering of pre-cum, but I fist myself furiously anyway, reveling in the friction.

Seven scoots sideways and lies in an elongated position, feet dangling off the foot of the bed.

He tugs the hem of Other Guy’s underwear down, lodging the cotton waistband beneath his balls.

Watches with his eyes trained on me as he slowly takes the boy’s cock in his mouth.

Slow and steady until his lips reach the base.

He peers up at me with those fucking puppy dog eyes.

But baby, this is a fucking competition and I’m ready to shine.

Other Guy leans backward to find a resting place on his elbows as he watches both Seven and I.

Our tongues trail up the length of his swollen cock.

It’s easy to tell how long it’s been since a man has had any action.

Can tell by how hard he gets and Other Guy is as fucking hard as a diamond.

I wager this is his first time. Seven and I plant a field of kisses on the boy’s cock head.

Seven laps up the precum that drips down the side and then closes the distance between us with his tongue outstretched.

And I take the delivery with my own mouth.

Lick his tongue clean and inhale the taste of another man straight into me.

He tastes as I’d expect—the same intoxicating pheromones that have enslaved me with a hint of salty betrayal. But I kiss him anyway, hard and deep until I’m breathless. Until I’m forced to break away, a bridge of spit bowing between our lips.

We wage a silent war with each other in the quiet space between us. He smacks a finger over his lips, pushing away the spit, before he rolls on top of Other Guy. Straddles him and bucks his hips, holding Other Guy’s dick in place between his ass cheeks.

Look, I’m an animal. I have very basic needs—to get my dick sucked and to stick it into tight holes.

This is every gay man’s dream. Two holes and two cocks for the price of one, but I can’t shake away the intrusive thought that this isn’t a game to Seven.

This is what he actually wants and the desire he feels for me is one I can’t sate alone.

I crawl forward on the bed and bury my knees in the mattress on either side of the boy’s head. His gaze tunnels upward as I begin to stroke myself, from the base to the tip in slow motions. He darts out his tongue, ready to catch my seed but he’s much too premature.

Seven circles back and forth, his hands cradled behind his head as he continues to put on a show.

But when his mouth cracks open with an expression of pleasure on his face, my heart sinks.

I keep stroking through the motions, but I’m not really here.

A rush of blood flows away from my cock and ends somewhere around my throat as I tense up.

I hop off the bed and make my way to the antique wooden chair that’s parked in the corner next to the open window. I draw a hand to my mouth, waiting for them to stop but it’s not happening soon enough.

Other Guy sits up with Seven in his lap.

His cock slips free from Seven’s hole, but he’s not done yet.

He cradles Seven by the back of the head as he begins leaving a path of kisses on the side of his neck.

He watches me intently as he does so, but I can’t blame the guy.

He’s just playing the same game Seven and I have been playing, except he doesn’t have the foresight to know enough is enough.

“Get out,” I say lowly, desperately trying to remain in control.

Seven cocks his head over his shoulder with a smile that dissipates as soon as he meets my glare.

He rolls off Other Guy and sits on his knees, his hard cock weighing the pouch of the thong down enough to offer a good view of groomed pubic hair.

He pats the guy on the back. “You heard my man. Time to go.”

Other Guy chuckles. “You guys can’t be serious.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” I question with a tilt of my head and my fingers rolling into a fist. Again, I’m trying to be a better person.

Trying not to lose control because this boy has done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Go jerk off in your car. Download an app and fuck a stranger. Get it out of your system, but you’re not doing it here. ”

“Fucking freaks,” he grumbles as he jumps into his jeans.

He’s right, of course. Seven and I are not normal people.

Other Guy stuffs his underwear in a pocket and slings his shirt over his shoulder, and then, like so many others, he’s gone with the slamming of a door.

Unlike the others, he didn’t come first, but when three’s a crowd, someone always ends up with a broken heart.

Or in this case, a serious case of blue balls.

“Were you going to let him come inside you?” I question.

He shrugs. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

“You never are.”

“If it makes you feel better…” He stands up at the side of the bed. “I only wanted this to prove a point.”

“Please enlighten me.”

“That look on your face when you saw me take his dick in my ass? That unmistakable expression that was written all over your face like a sad pop song? I needed to know that I was yours.”

“What makes you think I won’t throw your ass out next?”

“Because his dick was never actually inside me.” He lowers himself to the floor on his hands and knees. “Because I am yours.”

He crawls on the floor with his ass arched, but before he can reach me, I stand up and rip the curtains closed.

When I turn back to him, he’s on his feet.

He throws his arms around my neck and shifts his body against mine.

I reach around and slip a hand beneath the string stretched between his ass.

Circle a finger around his hole, sloppy with spit but otherwise as tight as he’s ever been.

“Get on the fucking bed,” I command. “Now.”

He backs away slowly, not taking his eyes off me until his legs bend at the edge of the mattress.

He rolls onto his stomach, arches his ass in the air, and slinks the thong down his legs until they fall to the floor.

I approach with a handful of spit, slick my cock a few times, and then spit at his throbbing hole.

His fingers curl into the sheets as I reach him, and when I press my cock over his opening, he pushes himself backwards, impaling himself on my thickness. I do my best to hold still as he sinks around me, inch by inch, until I hit that magical spot that makes him take the Lord's name in vain.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans into the pillow.

I can feel every part of him stretching, adjusting.

Can feel every drag of his organs as I pull out slowly, threatening to turn him inside out in the process.

It feels so wrong, like it should be scribbled somewhere as the eleventh commandment.

Feels so fucking good. Bare like the absent gods intended. Natural and feral. Animalistic.

I latch onto his hips, hold him firmly in place.

He squirms beneath my touch, trying to rip control back from me, but he’s no match for my strength.

I think about fucking him harder than ever before.

Think about fucking him until he can’t walk.

Think that maybe this is my way to prove a point to him, and I don’t need another man interfering to make mine.

But then I think a slow and steady pace will give him more time to think about his decisions.

The restraint it takes to fuck him slowly requires more strength than jack hammering into him. I shudder with every careful thrust. Shudder every time he groans into the pillow when I hit that spot, over and over again.

“Say it,” I command. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I am…” gah. “yours.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m fucking yours,” he gasps as his asshole tightens, gripping me like a fucking vice.

He shuffles forward, spending himself onto the sheets.

I, too, unload, shooting load after load, until I’m spent completely.

And then I keep on fucking him, slow and steady.

Watch as my cock sinks in and out of him.

Watch as a buildup of creamy jizz coats the entire length of my shaft.

When I’m done playing with my favorite toy, I pull out and slap his ass. And then I watch as he climbs off the bed, grabs his bag, saunters into the bathroom, and closes the door behind him. I tuck my cock back into my boxers and take a seat on the wooden chair in the corner.

In the silence that follows release, I’m left alone with my thoughts. After I escaped Kevin, I made myself a solemn vow to never be the person who stays again. Seven is a light in a world that’s long gone dark, but even the brightest star can’t light the way when the shadows are this thick.

Of the millions of ways to break a heart, this has to be one of the most depressing, because there’s literally nothing he can do to save me.

Nothing he can do to make me stay. He’ll fight like hell, scraping and clawing at whatever thread of hope he can latch onto, but it’ll never be enough.

He’ll blame himself for the rest of his life, desperately wanting to know why he wasn’t enough.

And there’s nobody in this world, nobody standing in his corner, to convince him that it wasn’t him. It was me.

Yeah, the world only makes sense in short bursts of ecstasy, and in the silence that follows, I find clarity.

Maybe that’s why all I can do is fuck. Maybe that’s why I keep on fucking even after I’ve come because I know what’s waiting on the other side of release—the relentless shadow of the ghosts I need to forget.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The pounding at the door snaps me back to reality.

I make my way to the door and swing it open. It’s Other Guy. “Did you forget something?”

He doesn’t so much as blink, his face painted a pale white. His lips tremble on the precipice of speaking, but he remains steadfast in silence as if he’s seen a ghost.

Click.

Bang!

Hot blood sprays my face as Other Guy’s body falls forward, landing with a thump against the floor. Behind him, a stranger steps into view with a gun aimed squarely at me.

Three men walk into a motel room.

The punchline?

None of them ever leave.