Page 47 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

“Grab the lube,” Carson told Slade as he grazed Atticus’s hole with the tip of his finger. “Gotta prepare you for my dick.”

Another moan.

“You want my big dick to fill this tight little ass, huh?”

Atticus didn’t respond, which made Carson’s cock thicken even more. He loved how submissive the man was, how he obeyed as though it were his only job.

Slade returned from the bathroom with a pump bottle.

“You can finger his ass. Start with one. End with three.” Carson walked to the side of the bed and fisted Atticus’s hair, lifting his head. “And you, sweet boy, are gonna suck my dick while he stretches you wide so you can take all of me.”

Atticus moaned, fumbling to put his hands under him so he could lift himself up as Carson guided him with his hand still fisted in his hair.

Carson pushed his cock past those soft lips, deep into Atticus’s eager mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yes. That mouth.”

Atticus hummed when Slade pushed one slick finger into his ass. Carson watched the digit slide in and out. Easily, gently, Slade finger-fucked him.

“When you’re ready, I’m gonna sit in that chair while you sit on my dick,” Carson told Atticus, but his eyes were on Slade. “While you ride my dick, Slade’s gonna fuck your face.”

Slade’s eyes snapped up, meeting Carson’s. His approval glittered in the dark brown depths.

“You get both of us. At the same time.”

Atticus began rocking forward and back, impaling himself on Slade’s fingers and Carson’s cock with each sway. Carson remained in control, holding his hair, not allowing Atticus to get himself off before it was time.

“Look at that. Three fingers buried deep in your ass. You ready for my cock?”

Atticus nodded but didn’t make a sound.

“You wanna slide that tight little ass down my dick and let me fill you up.” It wasn’t a question.

That earned him a moan.

“One more minute,” Carson said, watching as Slade gripped his own dick while he continued to finger Atticus’s ass.

Watching Slade was a pleasure unlike anything Carson had ever known. The man was an absolute masterpiece; like that, he was a walking wet dream.

Aware of his own limitations, Carson tightened his hold, stopping Atticus’s momentum before he exploded. He moved to the chair and sat down, then pointed toward his cock.

“Lube my dick first,” he told Slade.

It was torture, but Carson endured because he knew they liked him like this. Slade was a contradiction in that he loved to be dominated, but he also got off on dominating. Carson liked seeing both sides of the man, especially when he was dominating someone else.

“Come here,” Carson growled, holding out a hand in Atticus’s direction. “Sit on my dick.”

Atticus got to his feet and joined them, waiting for Slade to step back before he got into position, facing away from Carson.

Gripping Atticus’s hip with one hand, he held his cock with the other, guiding the man right where he wanted him. He shifted in the chair to provide a better angle, allowing Atticus to impale himself, his tight, hot hole stretching around him.

“Oh, fuck,” Carson whispered. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Better than good. This was heaven.

He shifted on the chair, getting more comfortable, allowing Atticus to take more. Seconds felt like years as his cock pushed deeper, inch by inch, into Atticus. He held his breath, the pleasure bordering on pain. It felt so damn good.

“All of me,” he rasped, guiding Atticus down until he was balls deep inside the man.

Oh, yeah. So damn good.

“Fuck me, Atticus. However you need to.”

To prove he was giving Atticus free rein, Carson gripped the edges of the chair, remaining as still as possible. He watched Slade move in front of Atticus, spreading his legs to accommodate Carson’s legs.

Carson moaned when Slade fisted Atticus’s hair and pulled him forward, guiding his cock into his mouth while Atticus lifted, sliding off his dick before sinking back down.

“That’s it, boy,” Carson said, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. “Fuck us both.”

Slade groaned, his head tipping back, eyes closing. “Oh, yeah. Suck me. God, baby. Suck me.”

Chills danced down Carson’s arms, ignited by the reverence he heard in Slade’s voice.

This was more than the three of them were pretending it was.

So much more. He wished someone would speak up because when they were together like this, Carson couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

He knew as soon as it was over, the tension would return, and they’d go back to tiptoeing around one another until the next time.

That was the part he was tired of. He wanted more. He wanted to look forward to seeing them every chance he got, not fearing that each time might be his last.

He just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Not without pissing Slade off and ultimately ruining whatever chance he might have.

This.

This was what Atticus had been looking forward to since the first time the three of them were together.

He breathed through his nose, savoring the feeling of them both at the same time. This was what he craved, what he fantasized about. Both of them fucking him.

Yeah, Carson gave the illusion that Atticus had the power, but they all knew the truth. He didn’t want it. He wanted to be dominated, to be taken, to be manhandled for their pleasure. It turned him on like nothing else ever had.

The best part?

Here in this room, no one was thinking about past transgressions or irrational jealousy. No one was arguing about what might or might not happen in the future. They were giving in to their baser instincts, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Atticus … fuck … oh, yeah. Ride me, boy.”

His legs were cramping, his thighs on fire, his asshole stretched to the point of pain, but he didn’t stop. He lifted and lowered, impaling himself on Carson’s dick while Slade fucked his face rough and deep.

It wasn’t until Carson reached around, grabbing his cock and stroking firmly, that Atticus knew he was dangerously close to orgasm. It was inevitable. He could feel the electrical current through every fiber of his being. That was what happened when the three of them were together.

He gasped, causing Slade’s cock to slide out of his mouth. Closing his eyes, he let the pleasure roll through him.

This was what he wanted.

What he needed.

To fuck. To be fucked.

And he realized, it was all it would ever be. There was too much history, too much insecurity for it to evolve into something more. Surprisingly, he was okay with that. He had too much going on for anything more than this, anyway.

Atticus opened his mouth, but before he could take Slade’s cock inside again, Carson pushed to his feet. Atticus fell forward, causing Slade to fall back. Slade’s ass landed on the bed.

“Suck him,” Carson bit out. “Make him come.”

Atticus was about to say something, but words failed him when Carson pulled out and slammed into him.

Hard. Deep. It was all he could do to wrap his lips around Slade’s cock.

Then they were fucking him again. Slade fisted his hair, holding him in place while pumping his hips, driving up into Atticus’s throat.

Carson rammed into him from behind, deeper than Atticus thought possible.

And it was goooood .

God, it was good.

“You better come when we do,” Carson bellowed, both hands firmly on Atticus’s hips.

He took that as permission, fisting his cock and stroking roughly, bringing himself right to the brink.

He panted, breathing through his nose because Slade’s big cock was cutting off his airway.

He figured he was seconds from hyperventilating or passing out when Carson drove into him one last time, roaring as his cock pulsed inside him.

It was enough to trigger him, his cock spurting in his fist while Slade shouted, cum spurting against the back of Atticus’s throat.

And then it was over.

The three of them fell into a heap on the bed, huffing and panting. Atticus somehow ended up between them, content to be crushed beneath their arms and legs as the sweat on his skin cooled.

“This is good, huh?” he said, breathing hard.

“Damn good,” Carson agreed.

“I think we should do more of this.”

Carson lifted up, propping himself on one arm. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. Let’s just keep it casual from here on out. Just fucking.”

No one said anything for several beats.

Atticus turned his head, looking at Slade. “You good with that?”

“I guess I’ll have to be.”

Atticus noticed Slade’s gaze shifted to Carson when he said it, and he could sense the man’s vulnerability.

Only time would heal those wounds, but it wouldn’t be easy. Chances of these two getting back to where they’d once been were slim. Maybe they could, but Atticus realized he didn’t want to be in the middle anymore.

Complicated wasn’t something he was interested in, and truth be told, this was about as complicated as it got.