Page 59 of The Key Holder

“Great,” Ford said, stepping close to me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “You’re quite a little stud, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” That was the understatement of the year.

“Wanna go for a swim?” he asked.

“Only if we can stay naked.”

“Works for me.”

A loud knock on the kitchen door startled both of us. We froze, a silent question hanging between us.

“Expecting someone?” I whispered.

Ford’s brow furrowed. “No.”

We both bent down to grab our shorts. Mine weren’t even pulled on yet when I heard the door opening.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” Ford yelled.

A booming voice echoed through the house. “Ford, my man! Your knight in shining armor is here to save the day, and he brought backup! Oh, I hope we didn't interrupt anything." His eyes lingered on my bare torso, then on Ford’s barely contained schlong. A flicker of amusement crossed his face.

I felt Ford stiffen beside me, and who could blame him? My face was still sticky with his cum, our shirts were rumpled on the floor, and I was certain it smelled like sex in here. It might’ve been the dried semen on my upper lip, but still…we clearly just had sex.

“I thought you were coming next week,” Ford said, arms crossed, biceps absolutely bulging.

River swaggered into the kitchen, his tool belt hanging onto his hips like a tree’s last leaf before winter. With a big smile, he gestured to the coffee. “Mind if I have a cup?”

“Go ahead,” Ford said.

River helped himself. “Told the boys what a nice hole you had up here and they were so eager to come and fill it.”

By the boys, he meant the two broad-shouldered hunks with matching mischievous grins filling the door frame. They looked like they just stepped out of a fitness magazine. I could see their eyes were already glued onto Ford. They were all brawn and easy confidence—the kind of guy I used to hang myself all over. They almost looked like brothers, but I guessed they belonged to the same fraternity instead of sharing DNA. One had reddish-brown hair and a dusting of freckles across his nose, the other had dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“So you’re ready to start working on the roof already?” Ford asked. His voice was measured, but I could tell he was a little pissed.

“We got all the wood you’ll need,” the redhead said, stepping forward. “The name’s Brock.”

“Something’s definitely getting nailed in this cabin,” the other one added.

Son of a biscuit.

Brock cleared his throat, turned his attention to me, looking me up and down. “So, you’re the one with the leaky hole?” The double entendre was so blatant it was almost laughable. When I didn’t respond, he added, “We usually get our holes filled, but today we’re here to fix yours.” He delivered the line with a sly smile, his eyes raking over Ford from head to toe.

They sure didn’t seem like bottoms to me, but who was I to judge? The testosterone in the room was almost overpowering. Four cocks at once was a lot to fantasize about. I had to tell my inner himbo to shush.

“Boys, boys, boys,” River chimed in. “Let’s keep it professional.”

“Do these two even know how many inches are in a foot?” Ford asked River, ignoring the mass of muscle in the doorway.

River almost choked on his coffee. “They may be pretty, but they know how to repair a roof. They’ve laid many a shingle before.”

“We can take all the inches you’ve got.”

“Shut up, Axel. Do you want to get us fired?”

Brock and Axel, a living, breathing, flip-fuck scene from Sean Cody if I ever saw one. They might not be brothers, but they’ve certainly swapped DNA before.

“Aw, come on, bro. Ford looks like he can take care of himself,” Axel–the blue-eyed one–said.