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Santino issues me a glare as he tightens his grip on Jericho. "Calm down. All we’re doing is skinny dipping—nothing more, nothing less."
Shimmying out of Santino’s grip, Jericho rests his back against the bank. He closes his eyes, propping his elbows up on the muddy fringe, then kicks his legs out.
"This is the life." He smiles in the dappled sunlight flitting through the trees. "I can’t believe you three get to dip in here often. We don't have anything like this where I come from."
I move closer to him so I can bask in his essence. "Tell me about your life growing up."
He pushes out a breath. "I split my time between Manhattan and my grandparents’ farm. Upstate, my brother Bentley and I would run through their Christmas trees, playing imaginary games and having the best childhood ever."
I nod understandingly. "I assume that whatever went down, changed things."
By this, I mean—whatever sent you to prison.He clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so I decide to avoid the question. Jericho will tell us what happened when he’s ready—I’m sure of it.
Jericho gnashes his teeth. "Yep. Before then, Bentley and I were the closest friends. We'd play all the time."
Lazaro presses his right hand to his heart. "That’s sweet."
"We sometimes comforted each other in ways only brothers can," Jericho whispers. "When Bentley was scared of the dark, I'd cuddle up next to him, wrap him in my arms, and tell him everything would be all right. We were close as hell. Then,the incidenthappened—and I was separated from him for eight long years."
Jericho’s voice turns dark toward the tail end of his sentence. It’s obvious that what happened in his past was deeply traumatic—there’s no denying it.
How I wish to learn what it was. This poor boy has evidently been through a lot—more than a sweet angel like him should have to go through.
If Jericho were to open up right now, I'd scoop him into my arms, press my lips to his forehead, and never let him go. Rock him to sleep—read him storybooks to ensure he feels safe.
That’s what he needs. Three Daddies to make him feel comfortable, protected, and a little more certain that this world isn’t full of evil people, but that virtues such as kindness and love still exist.
Santino gnashes his teeth. "That’s precious."
"You never played toy soldiers with me," I growl at Santino, glaring at him. God, some brother he is compared to Bentley.
"That’s because we were busy being real Mafia soldiers," Santino hits back in a deep voice. "We had no use for toys."
Jericho turns to Santino. "Okay, you three. You seem sweet enough—and I’ve enjoyed speaking about my past."
Moving closer to his side, I trail my thumb across his cheek. "You’ve only brushed the surface, baby boy. My brothers and I have been Daddies for alongtime—no doubt about it that we can tell when a boy needs to open up about his past. This isn’t the last conversation we’ll have about this topic. Ipromise."
Jericho’s breath hitches as he faces me. "You have no idea how much that means to me."
He wriggles away from Santino and places his hand on my knee under the water. An electric shock jolts through me—one that turns my dick into a rod.
Jericho moves his hand between my legs and cups my shaft. "I’d love to get to know you threephysically.You’re sweet, but are we compatible in the bedroom?"
A low growl charges out of Santino’s lips.
He wraps his left arm around Jericho’s waist. "Look at you. Taking initiative with your Daddies.We like that."
I grind into Jericho’s tight hand, a grunt escaping me. "Sit your ass on the bank, pretty boy."
Jericho licks his lips. "Why, Daddy?"
"I’m going to eat you out."
ChapterThree
FARO
I adjust my grip on my binoculars. Oh, Christ—they’re doing it!
