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“No…not mmmmy id…idea, Daddy,” Michael stammered as he plunged his dick hard and fast on Jackson’s mouth. He was so close to coming. The precum flooded Jackson’s tongue.
Finn sighed but stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“It doesn’t look like you’re complaining either, baby,” Finn said.
“Birthday,” Michael panted out.
“It is your birthday party,” Finn agreed. He pressed against Michael’s side, which had his hips brushing Jackson’s temple. “Happy birthday, baby.”
They kissed.
Okay, that was not a kiss. Not with the way that Finn fucked Michael’s mouth. Fuck! That was so hot. Jackson sucked Michael in deeper. Michael’s long, slim cock slipping into his throat where Jackson swallowed around it.
Finn’s fingers dug into Jackson’s hair.
Jackson knew it was Finn’s touch.
He always knew who was touching him.
Finn, rough and demanding. Michael, soft and loving. Jackson needed both those touches. The differences. Just like what was inside him. Jackson might put off an arrogant and cocky attitude, but inside he craved nothing more than acceptance. He’d found that with Finn and Michael. Jackson wasn’t too much for his partners. No, they thought Jackson was perfect just the way he was.
Emotions swirling, Jackson was caught off guard when Michael suddenly came. Jack backed off, trying to catch the release, but ended up coughing and getting more seed over his chin than down his throat.
Michael slumped into Finn’s arms.
“That what you wanted, boy?” Finn’s voice had a definite growl to it. Yummy!
Jackson nodded.
“I already told you that you weren’t going to get to come today.” Finn was stern. His frown deep.
Oh, Jackson hadn’t forgotten.
“You just had to push your luck.”
He had. Jackson couldn’t help but push boundaries.
Finn grinned. “Give me your hands.”
And that was exactly what Jackson had wanted to hear. He lifted his leather-cuffed hands into the air. Finn untucked the chain from the hidden zipped pouch before pulling it out.
“Guess I’ll just have to keep you by my side,” Finn told him.
Jackson hoped it was forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Jackson
“Bubbie! Bubbie watch!”
Jackson lifted his head as Michael raced around the deck.
“Don’t run!” he yelled. Jackson had yelled that at least a dozen times. In only five minutes. And another dozen in the five minutes before that. And a dozen times before that.
“Watch!” Michael did a cannon ball into the pool.
Jackson clapped as soon as Michael’s head popped up from under the surface. “Great job! No, Avery! Do not throw your floaty into the deep end. Avery!”
