Page 23 of Party of Three (Sapphire Cove Suite Secrets)

“You reach out and you grab his ass and you just dive in, tongue first. And I’m standing there in the shadows, stroking my cock while I watch you.

And then you’re fucking him. And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

You fucking him. You being wild and free and completely unbidden.

And I should feel hurt and betrayed, but instead I’m feeling like I’m seeing every inch of you, every side of you.

Like I’m getting more of you than I ever have before.

Then suddenly one of your friends catches me and drags me into the room.

And you don’t stop fucking the stripper.

You order your friends to start taking turns on me so you don’t have to stop. ”

Slowly, Mateo rose up on his haunches, closing the distance between them. Gently he gripped Buckley’s chin in one hand. His nostrils were flaring and his chest was rising and falling with deep, hungry breaths.

“I’m starting to notice a trend,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“In each one, you belong to me.”

Buckley nodded. “And I’m yours to share with whoever you want.”

Mateo tightened his grip on Buckley’s chin. “Jeff?”

“Yes, Mateo.”

“Fuck our boy’s pussy.”

As he heard the rip of the condom wrapper and the pop of the lube bottle’s cap, he felt himself go boneless.

Then he was turned onto his back. He wasn’t sure which man had done it, only that he was suddenly gazing up at the hypnotizing intensity of Jeff’s expression, the sight of a man whose every muscle, whose every inch, was being commanded by desire for what he wanted most.

Buckley had never felt more open, more hungry, in his life.

Mateo was gifted downstairs. Jeff was bigger, and when he settled into him the head of his cock slid across Buckley’s prostate with smooth force. The men above him saw his cock jerk in response and let out satisfied grunts.

Mateo gently guided his pre-cum-weeping cock into Buckley’s eager, yawning mouth.

Buckley had been spit roasted before, but never like this. He’d never felt this utterly married to cock.

Jeff’s long, slow strokes were sweet torture, a sign he’d sensed how well his cock’s size and shape were pegging Buckley’s special spot.

And Mateo wasn’t simply fucking his mouth.

He was slowly spreading his pre-cum across Buckley’s lips.

Coating him, anointing him. It wasn’t a ravaging, but it was slow and steady and determined.

And focused. On him and only him. He felt things he rarely felt but always craved. Picked, special, first .

“Our boy’s a hungry slut, Mateo,” Jeff grunted between thrusts. “A hungry little poly slut.”

Poly. He knew the term but had never applied it to himself before. And something about Jeff’s use of it now—it wasn’t exactly the stuff of bargain-basement dirty talk—made him feel more claimed. A diagnosis driven not by judgment, but by their mutual, building desire.

Mateo shifted to his knees next to Buckley’s head, fucking his mouth with long, slow strokes.

Head turned to one side, Buckley devoured each stroke with such suckling hunger he went numb to the growing strain in his neck until it turned into a brief, sharp stab.

When he saw Buckley wince, Jeff shifted forward, lifting him up onto all fours.

Gripping his hips, Jeff started taking him from behind.

Mateo’s cock was filling his throat. He went from feeling boneless to fleshless, like his body was an illusion and he’d become nothing but incandescent energy thrown off in waves by the percussive shocks of the cocks pounding him from both ends.

He’d lost all sense of where he ended and where Jeff and Mateo began.

As experienced as he was, he’d never felt anything like this before.

And when he reached down and began stroking himself, he thought his cock might explode in his hand.

Jeff wailed. It was a terrifying sound at first, easy to mistake for pain or terror.

He’d seen the man come that morning. The event had been focused and fierce.

This sound was different, raw and animalistic and wild.

Wet heat filled the condom. The man’s powerful thrusts stuttered then jerked.

He was emptying hard and fast inside of him, his wails turning into a series of Ohs that sounded like he was pleading with something, some higher power.

Begging for his life, his sanity. It was the wild sounds of an impeccably controlled man flying apart in the face of a satisfaction, a connection , that had overwhelmed him.

Like a wave, it hit Buckley next.

He bellowed, thighs shuddering so hard as he stroked himself he thought he might go over sideways off his bent knees. Amidst this melee of trembling lust, the steadiness of Mateo’s smooth, throat-filling strokes sent him firmly over the edge.

It was like the first time he’d ever come, when the thunder and sweep of the sensations were so overwhelming and new, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to himself at first.

Suddenly their arms were around him. They sank to the comforter together. Their quick transition from aggressive topping to tender embraces and gentle kisses told him they could feel how intense, how serious , Buckley’s orgasm had been.

He thought, for a second, that these feelings might kill him. That his heart was about to stop. They were that intense. But in the same instant, he was exhilarated to know he would die happier than he’d ever been before.

Then he became more aware of the dual embrace in which he was tangled. Mateo’s mouth against the back of his neck, then he was leaving gentle, reverential kisses on his forehead. A breathy silence fell. When Buckley opened his eyes, he saw Mateo looking past him.

Slowly, Buckley rolled onto his back.

Next to them Jeff looked like a sated warrior, exhausted by a post-victory bacchanal, hair-dusted chest rising and falling from his deep breaths, one forearm draped across his forehead, eyes closed, nostrils flaring.

Overwhelmed.

Overcome.

Buckley snuggled against him, tracing his fingers gently across his chest, afraid, for a moment, that Jeff might push him away.

Instead, Jeff gripped Buckley’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissed it gently, then held it against his chest. But the man couldn’t seem to open his eyes.

Like his grip on Buckley’s hand was a way of reminding himself he was still real, still made of flesh and bone.

There’d been moments like this with Mateo in the beginning, when they’d opened up a part of him so deep and untouched that they’d had to lie there in silence for a while afterward, Buckley fearing he might have taken his boyfriend too far down a new and unpaved road.

Realizing that being penetrated and filled wasn’t the only path to a man’s undoing.

Had they somehow done the same to Jeff? Given the man’s experience, the prospect seemed both implausible and wonderful.

You could fuck a top from the bottom. You could drain him of all resistance and good sense if you played your ass right. He’d learned that with Mateo, and now he’d done it with Jeff.

Finally, Jeff turned his head toward them, glassy-eyed, spent, like someone rousing from a long sleep to find himself pleasantly surprised by his bed partners.

“Sorry about that, guys.” His polite word choice didn’t match his winded tone. “I kind of lost it there for a sec.”

“Or you found it.”

It was Mateo who’d said it, but Buckley had been thinking almost exactly the same thing, so he smiled.

Jeff wasn’t smiling. But he was gazing back at them both with something in his eyes that looked like eagerness edged with fear.

Found it.

Found them.

We’re never going to make it until four p.m. tomorrow , Buckley thought.

Jeff’s gaze suggested a speech was coming, one with more emotion than stern instructions. The man’s shell had been cracking ever since their first kiss, a kiss Mateo had commanded. But the sounds he’d made suggested the shell might have split down the center. And for good.

Buckley, drained of all energy seconds before, felt his heart race.

Embracing him from behind, Mateo went very still.

“So,” Jeff finally said, “what’s for dinner, boys?”

Relief and disappointment in one.

They had either broken something or built something entirely new.

Tomorrow they would find out.