Page 108 of Stolen Harmony

Rowan nodded, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

I let my own pants drop, leaving me in black briefs, my cock straining against the fabric. Rowan mouthed at my length, teeth grazing me through the cotton, his eyes pleading for more. I kept my hand in his hair, holding him there, letting him nuzzle and moan until I felt him tremble with need.

Tom and David watched—flushed, aroused, caught somewhere between curiosity and hunger.

Rowan looked up at me, eyes desperate. “Spit in my mouth,” he whispered, filthy and sweet.

My grip tightened. “You want that?” I growled, making sure the others heard.

“Yes, please—please.”

I let a thick string of spit fall into his waiting mouth, and he moaned, tongue swirling to savor it, cheeks flushed with humiliation and delight. Tom cursed softly, David’s breath stuttered.

The sight of Rowan, on his knees, desperate for our attention, was almost too much. I wanted him shameless. I wanted him ruined. I wanted him to worship every part of us, not just because he needed it, but because we all needed to see him fall apart.

I slipped my hand under his chin, tilting his face up so he met my eyes. “You want to please us, pretty boy?”

He nodded, wild and eager.

“Then use your words. Tell us what you want. Tell us what you want to call us.”

His lips parted, eyes shining with the ache of humiliation and hunger. He swallowed, glancing from me to Tom to David—each of us towering over him, waiting for him to surrender completely.

“I want to make you all feel good,” he whispered. “Want to be your… your good boy. Please.”

Tom sucked in a breath, his composure shattering. David’s fingers flexed on Rowan’s shoulder, the tension between want and restraint bleeding out into the air.

“Say it,” I ordered, voice cutting through the thick quiet. “Say it for each of us.”

Rowan turned to Tom first, crawling on hands and knees, mouth brushing Tom’s thigh. “Please, Daddy,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “let me worship you.” He pressed a kiss to Tom’s hip, hands stroking up his sides, then buried his nose in Tom’s armpit, inhaling deeply. Tom’s arm came up automatically, giving Rowan access, the raw, musky scent of sweat and man filling the space between them. Rowan licked up the length of Tom’s pit, tongue working in slow, wet circles, tasting salt and skin. Tom groaned, the sound primal, hips bucking as Rowan licked and sucked, eyes fluttering shut in surrender.

David watched, face gone slack with shock and arousal. Rowan crawled to him next, climbing into his lap, palms sliding up David’s ribs. “Want to taste you, Daddy,” Rowan begged, voice gone high and desperate.

David hesitated for a split second, then lifted his arm, baring his hairy pit. Rowan dove in, tongue working greedily, mouth latching onto the hot, dark curl of hair. David gasped, head falling back, letting Rowan feast on him—licking, sucking, worshipping like it was the holiest thing he’d ever done. David’s cock was a thick, straining outline beneath his briefs, leaking into the fabric. Rowan groaned, rutting against David’s thigh, his own body shaking with need.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” David rasped, voice thick with awe. “Good fucking boy.”

I felt my cock throb, my own control slipping withevery obscene sound, every needy whine Rowan let out as he crawled back to me. “Your turn, Daddy,” he whispered, looking up at me with wet, blown eyes. “Please let me taste you. Please, let me worship you, Daddy.”

I let him pull up my arm, exposing the thick patch of hair at my pit. Rowan pressed his nose in, breathing me in, then licked a long, slow stripe up my skin. The sensation made my whole body spark—hot, electric, every nerve ending keyed to the way his tongue dragged over me, the way he mouthed and sucked and whimpered. I fisted my hand in his hair, guiding him, grinding his face into my skin until he was smothered in sweat and salt and want.

“Good boy,” I praised, voice gone dark with satisfaction. “You love being our toy, don’t you? You love being Daddy’s mess.”

Rowan shuddered, moaning against my flesh. His hands were everywhere—stroking Tom’s cock through his briefs, tugging at David’s waistband, fingers slipping beneath the elastic to tease, to taunt, to take whatever he could reach.

Tom reached down, not to stop him, but to guide Rowan’s mouth back to his chest, dragging his head under his arm again. “Don’t stop,” Tom commanded, surprise and lust warring on his face. “Jesus, don’t you fucking stop.”

Rowan obeyed, worshipping Tom’s pit again, licking greedily, sucking on the damp, salty hair, using his teeth until Tom’s legs trembled. David’s hand fisted in Rowan’s hair, dragging him back and shoving him into his own armpit, daring him to keep going, to take more.

Rowan was delirious, lost in the attention, the filth, the feeling of being passed around, wanted and used and adored.

I knelt beside him, claiming his mouth in a rough, bruising kiss, tasting Tom and David on his tongue, letting him know exactly who he belonged to.

“You want us to ruin you, pretty boy?” I growled, biting his lower lip until he whimpered.

“Yes, Daddy,” he gasped, “please—want to be used. Want to be your good boy. I’ll do anything.”

“Show us,” I commanded. “Let us see how much you love it.”