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I flicked my gaze to the table. Ezra was kneeling on all fours, his cock red and angry between his legs. His arse was up in the air, and Ry had his fingers lodged deep inside him. Tristan was behind Ry, arms wrapped around his hips as he leisurely jacked Ry off. Ry’s groan was filled with agony as Tristan twisted his wrist over his cockhead and, as slow as molasses, ran his hand back down Ry’s length.
“Please,” Ezra gasped, a line of pre-cum dripping from his slit and hitting the cushion he was kneeling on. “I need you both.”
Ry hissed, “Fuck, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, Tris.”
I watched them move into place, and my clit pulsed, my core tightening as my body replayed the ecstasy of having them buried inside me only minutes earlier. Slickness between my legs warmed my belly. I had Flynn’s cum inside me. I wanted the others’ too, but I didn’t think I could move—or even talk—to ask for it.
Tris let Ry go and slapped Ezra’s arse, leaving a perfect red handprint on the paler skin below his tan line. Ry closed his eyes and positioned his dick at Ezra’s entrance. Ezra mewled, but Tris was moving again, walking back to Ry. “Hey, if you’re not ready—”
Ry opened his eyes, and his smile was dazzling. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tristan’s lips. “I’m ready. I’m pinching myself that this is actually happening.”
“Guys,” Ezra barked. “Fuck me, please.”
Ry grasped Ezra’s hip with one hand and with his other rubbed his cock against Ezra’s hole, teasing him. The move elicited a pained groan from our guy as Ezra dropped his head and canted his hips in a blatant invitation. Ry eased himself in, moving slowly without pause, not giving Ezra the chance to adjust to his intrusion until he was stuffed full. Fuck. They were beautiful together. Dark and rough-edged against our golden pretty boy. Ry’s hips were pressed against Ezra’s, both their faces etched with restraint.
Tristan hooked his finger under Ezra’s chin and lifted his face up before running his thumb along Ezra’s bottom lip. He waited for Ezra to open, and Tristan replaced his thumb with his cock, rubbing it on Ezra’s lips just like Ry had done to his arse.
Flynn hummed, and I felt every bit of yearning in his voice to the soles of my feet. Being between them was a dream come true for both Flynn and me, but given how rocky Ry’s relationship with Ezra had been of late, I was so glad that they were taking this step together, cementing their connection and taking it to another level.
Like a finely tuned machine, Ry withdrew as Tristan pushed forward, not stopping until he was buried in Ezra’s throat. They kept going, not hard or fast, but steady and unrelenting until Ezra was shaking and his dick leaked a steady stream of pre-cum. The noises were illicit—deep grunts and groans and whispered praise that lit Ezra up. I could see him flying, reaching that pinnacle of ecstasy until he was so blissed out, he was having an out-of-body experience.
I knew the feeling well. These men had a knack for taking me there.
Repeatedly.
Ezra’s moan was long but muffled as he came undone completely untouched. Ry followed him over the edge, choking out a cry as he snapped his hips forward one last time and shuddered through his orgasm. Every muscle in Ezra’s body locked up as his chest heaved and Ry pumped him full. Pulse after pulse erupted from Ezra, painting the cushion under him with each flex of his cock.
“That’s it, Ez. Show us how much you love being pumped full of Ry’s cum,” Tristan ground out through clenched teeth.
“Fill him up, Tris,” Ry ordered breathlessly in that deep gravelly voice that commanded attention.
As if he’d been waiting for Ry’s instructions, Tris shouted out a curse, and with his hands on Ezra’s cheeks, shuddered through his orgasm.
Twelve
Zali
My gut twisted as we drove past Benedict’s compound in our Tesla rental, slowing down so we could scope it out. I was in the middle, pressed between Tristan and Flynn, and I normally loved it there, but right now I had a hand pressed low on my belly, trying to stop the cramp.
I couldn’t see much except that the white iron gates were closed. The privacy granted by the gardens surrounding the fence would hide anyone trying to scale it, but it was high enough that it wouldn’t be an easy task.
“Can we get the gate open?” I asked, not particularly wanting to have to Spiderman it in.
“Ry or I will be able to get over it. It’s likely got cameras connected to it, though, so we won’t have the element of surprise if we do,” Ezra answered, his voice contemplative.
The house was hidden behind a lush tropical garden that was junglelike in its density. A smooth concrete drive wound through the property, disappearing around a bend in the dappled sunlight cast by the towering trees. That element of surprise would come in handy if Benedict took off and we had to go searching for him in the jungle. There were too many places he could disappear into and not enough of us to find him easily.
It wasn’t only the land that we had to be concerned about either. The compound took prime position on a picturesque beach. The water was too shallow for a boat of any size to be kept there, but there were plenty of marinas nearby where larger yachts were moored, making for an easy ocean escape should Benedict need it.
We were staying close—two doors up from Benedict’s house to be exact. Our holiday rental was owned by Benedict’s next-door neighbour, but she rented it for short-term accommodation for the rich and famous. The pictures I’d seen so far didn’t do the landscape or the houses justice. I couldn’t wait to see whether ours was the same.
This stretch of coastline wasn’t famous for its tourists if the surprised looks on the locals’ faces at the markets were anything to go by. The quiet fishing village was quaint, and the socio-economic differences between the residents and the billionaires who’d slowly been encroaching on the local beaches obvious. There were more privatized beaches now than public ones from what we could see, longer stretches of sand and hectares of land in lush forest gardens locked behind high fences, like the one Benedict owned.
Ez kept driving, picking up a little bit of speed as he passed Benedict’s neighbour’s house and the one we were staying in before he slowed again, pulling into the slate stone driveway of our temporary home. Like the other houses, lush gardens were planted along the road, creating a privacy barrier and almost entirely blocking out the minimal amount of noise that would be heard along the quiet street.
But once we passed the barrier gardens, the grounds opened up to a breathtaking scene. Palm trees dotted the wide lawns, and sand drifts danced along the drive. Birds chirped and waves lapped gently at the turquoise waters along the shoreline only a stone’s throw away.
The house was a picture of elegance and style. White walls and a high-pitched thatched roof were a beautiful contrast to the rich blue sky, the ocean, and the greenery surrounding it.
