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“Where were you?” Ford asks, making me squeal in surprise as I trudge up the steps to my small apartment. He’s waiting at the top of the stairs, near my door. Shit. I wanted time to shower and clean up before I met him, to wash away the evidence of where I just was.
And since when does Ford come to my place? That’s too fucking risky.
“Why are you here?” I ask softly, unlocking my apartment door and pushing it open. I live on the same property as my dad, in a small apartment over the detached garage, so Ford showing up and hanging out with me would arouse major suspicion.
“I was with your dad having a drink. He and Avery took a night ride. We’re fine,” he says as he follows me into my place. And instead of feeling ashamed that I was just with someone else—his best friend, no less—I feel excited. Thrilled. Nervous that he might discover it. That it might all implode.
But Ford doesn’t seem to notice as he reaches out and eagerly pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it to the ground before twisting me around and roughly unbuttoning my pants. Oh, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. He’s always so impatient, so urgent. Where Cash is more quiet and steadfast, Ford has the manic energy that I wish I could have. He’s the energy in the room, the zing of excitement.
His hands tug my pants down as he pushes me forward, my body falling onto the bed, my ass sticking out, still cloaked in my boxer briefs. If he reaches his hand around the front, he’ll notice that I’m wet, that I came in my pants just fifteen minutes ago. But he doesn’t. He’s too impatient.
“Look at that ass,” he murmurs as he tugs my underwear down, and I hear the clink of his belt buckle as it falls to the floor. “Gonna wreck it.” Then the rip of a condom wrapper pierces the silence.
“You good?” he asks as I feel cool lube slide down my crack right before his fingers push inside of me.
I gasp, feeling myself immediately accept him. I love it, love feeling full down there. Love the stretch and sting of a cock as it pushes into me.
“Always,” I moan softly as Ford works his fingers inside of me. One, two, three. I want him to fist me. Want him to stick his whole goddamn hand up me, but I’ll take it slow. He does what he wants, when he wants. And I love it. Love the suspense, the thrill. I never know what he’s gonna do to me. Never know what he has planned.
But no matter what, I’m here for it.
The shuffle of feet moving forward has me arching back and when I feel the tip of his sheathed cock press against my waiting hole, I take him in. Take it all. Just a swift thrust of his hips and he’s balls deep. A unified groan surrounds the space between us and then it turns into panting as Ford leans down and bites at my shoulder.
“Fuck, your ass is so goddamn needy,” he rasps and then thrusts again, taking it slow at first, but then ramping up the tempo. My cock is hard between my legs, bouncing with each fuck, and I try to temper my moans, but I can’t. I can’t stop the sounds from exiting my mouth. They’re needy and feral and disgusting and yet, there’s no way to hold them in. Not when Ford’s dick is stretching me out. It’s long, thick, and hard. And I take all of it, every inch. In and out it goes, hard and punishing. But it’s when he shifts forward and pulls me up so I’m standing that I feel my cock drip endlessly. I’m impaled on him fully now, just unable to move or think. I’m just a hole now—a sore, aching hole that is being rutted into until I feel the choppy thrusts of Ford behind me.
“Fuck, your ass is good. I want to fuck it all night. Just stay inside of it and fill it over and over.”
I want that too. Want it so bad. I want Cash and Ford to take turns having me all night long, but I don’t say that. Just hold those devious thoughts in as he thrusts into me over and over.
“I want your cock to come first. I want to feel it explode untouched,” he says and then bends me back down, thrusting his hips back and forth as he takes me even harder. The bed hits the wall, my eyes crossing from the sheer pleasure of it, and as if on command, my balls draw up and a pained cry leaves me as I erupt across the sheets.
Ford groans at the feeling of my ass clenching around him, and I feel him pound into me faster and faster until he finally unloads into the condom, falling against me and biting his way across my shoulders.
“Damn,” he murmurs, and all I can do is swallow and nod.
He doesn’t pull out right away, just holds himself inside of me, and I let him, bearing the heavy weight of his body behind me. We’re sweaty from our exertion and the musk of sex fills the air. If my dad were to come in, he’d smell it. He’d know what we’d done.
When he finally pulls out, I collapse onto the bed with weak knees, utterly satiated from coming twice in the past hour. To be honest, I’m young. I could do so much more than this. I could literally go all day. My libido is through the roof, but for now, I take it as it comes. And it comes a lot. And so do I.
Ford pulls the condom off, tosses it in the trash bin, and flops down on the bed next to me, his lips tilted up in a mischievous smile. Cash and Ford look similar in many ways—tattoos lining their skin, dark hair, dark eyes, and scruffy jaws. They’re even almost the same age. Cash is forty-two and Ford is thirty-eight, and even for their ages, they’re in shape. I could spend hours tracing the lines of the muscle ridges in their abdomens. But here is where they differ. Where Cash is more stoic, Ford is more excitable. A perfect yin and yang. And I’m the holes in between.
God, I need therapy.
But hell, the way my body feels right now, used and satiated, I figure this is the best medicine. Sex therapy.
“You can’t stay,” I say, trying to keep my tone as nice as possible. “My dad could come home any minute.”
Ford’s smile slips and he turns on his side to really look at me, his big dick hanging limply between us. My lips are dry, and I wet them, trying to curb this insatiable hunger I have for these men, but failing miserably. I’d let him fuck me again, right now if I could. I so would let him in again. I’ve never felt this obsessed with anyone before, and here I am, torn between the two of them.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t worry,” Ford says and then cocks his head, taking me in. I know what he sees—my thin body, flushed cheeks, and my mussed brown, just-been-fucked hair. “But I want to fuck you again before I leave. So don’t make me go yet. I’m not done.”
I bite back a moan, unable to say no. Of course he can fuck me again. Of course he can, but he shouldn’t.
“We really shouldn’t,” I say, not really meaning it.
Even as I say it, my cock is hardening between my legs. It’s insatiable, greedy—has a mind of its own.
