More Sloan Parker (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📖

I ran a hand through my hair. “I meant that to sound less juvenile than it did.” I stared down the mouth of the empty beer bottle. Was it possible to truly get lost in the bottle? If I kept drinking, would Richard make me leave Matthew? “It's just not a good fit for me.”

“Better to get out before what? You start to care?”

“Fuck off.” I tossed the bottle onto the coffee table and slammed the door on my way out. The rattling sound that lingered felt good.

I walked into the house and heard two muted voices in the kitchen. I strained to hear them.

No hint of anger or pain.

Matthew caught sight of me, and the relief was unmistakable. He moved with trepidation but still came to me as easily as he always did. His hands cupped my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. My dad just gets to me.”

“What made you upset?” Richard asked. “Tell us what your dad said.”

“I don't need you fucking worrying all the time and trying to fix everything.”

His eyes narrowed. “It's who I am. I won't apologize for it.”

“I like it,” Matthew said. He sat next to him. “It's nice to know someone cares about me.”

“I do.”

“I know. Me too.” They leaned in and kissed. Easy. Right.

I went for a soda from the fridge. The bottle didn't make it to my lips, though. I mouthed the words more than said them. I tried again. “I can't do this anymore.”

“What?” Richard asked.

I set the soda on the counter and spoke louder. “I'm going to find an apartment.”

A chair scraped across the tile floor and banged on the wall. Richard towered over the table.

The sludge of the six cups of coffee I drank at work lurched in my stomach. Bile rose in my throat. The taste reached the back of my tongue, and I gagged.

Matthew stood beside me in a flash, one hand on my arm, the other on my hip. I didn't want to face him, but his hands insisted.

“No.” His voice cracked with the one word.

“I can't watch the two of you get closer and closer and not be a part of it. I can't.”

Matthew gripped my forearms. His eyes darted back and forth. “You are part of it.”

“It'll be better if I go. You deserve someone who can give you what"— I gestured with my hand between him and Richard—"what you give to each other.”

“You give that to us. You are a part of it.” He ran his hand from my shoulder to my elbow and back up. The stroke as warm and intimate as it'd been the night we'd showered together at the Haven.

“You don't need me,” I said.

“I need you both.” Matthew threw his arms around me. “Don't go.”

I jerked away and slid down the cabinet. “Oh God. I don't know if I can leave.”

Richard crouched in front of me. “But you want to?”

I leaned my head against the cabinet door. “I don't want to, but it's who I am.”

“That's bullshit. You're freaking. You're trying to push us away so you don't have to make a decision. So you'll have a reason to run.”

I met his green eyes. “Don't let me fuck this up.”

He pulled me to his chest and held me firm against him. “I'm not letting you go anywhere. No one's leaving me again.” A tremble vibrated his body.

Matthew curled against me, his head on my arm.

We stayed on the kitchen floor for a long while. Close. Silent. Still.

“You'll stay?” Matthew asked. His head lifted. His eyes pleaded.

“I'll try.”

His hand moved over my hip. The touch didn't arouse. It comforted.

“Can we go to the basement?” I asked.

Richard stilled the hand on my back. “Let's go up to bed instead.”

“No. I want to remember our first night. The way we were before I knew I'd be— I want it to be like that again.”

Richard was quiet for a moment. “Okay, Luke. Whatever you need.”

“Yeah. Tonight's for you.” Matthew smiled, the expression forced and nervous and scared.

If I left, I'd never see his easy, joyful smile again.

I needed to see it one more time.

I lay on the bed in the basement, my arms tied to the headboard. Matthew was straddling me, his cock in my mouth. And Richard was buried deep inside me.

It was exactly like the first night— only I didn't feel at ease. I didn't feel alive. Not like I had then.

I needed more.

Matthew's cock pulsed in my mouth. He came with a shriek, and I swallowed, nearly choking at the thought of never tasting him again.

He fell over onto his side. I didn't want him to go. I wanted him hard and in my mouth again. I ached to taste him once more.

Richard pitched forward. His lips brushed mine, the touch soft and gentle and full of love.

I needed more. “Hit me.”

He recoiled. “God no. Luke, don't ask for that.”

I arched up. I wanted more contact with him. “Want to feel your marks on me long after we're done.”

“No. Don't.” He moved in me again and showered me with kisses, giving me all of him, loving me. “We're never going to be done.”

I turned my head and savored the skin of his neck. I bit down, not a playful tease but a close-to-drawing-blood chomp.

Richard cried out in pain.

“Luke!” Matthew screamed. “Stop. Please.”

I released Richard, and he jerked back.

“Punish me.”

Rage flooded his eyes. It didn't matter what made him mad. I wanted his anger. I needed it.

“Luke, goddammit. I won't hurt you.”

“I want to give in to you. I need you to make it hurt.” My begging was fruitless, but I couldn't stop myself.

“It isn't what I want. And I don't want you to want it. Don't ask me to hurt you.” Tears pooled in his eyes. He untied one of my wrists, then the other.

“No!” I tried to jerk away.

He held my face in his hands. “I want to make love to you. I think that's what you need. Not this other shit.” He kissed me.

I pressed harder against his lips,