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"That’s a pretty name," he whispers, moving to suck the corner of my mouth. "I like it. Very Italian."
My cock is an iron rod in my shorts. Try as I might to control myself, I can’t reign in my emotions.
"I’d sure like a tea party right about now." I blink back more tears—tears of gratitude.
He takes my hand in his. "I’ll lead the way."
Jericho
"I’m going to eat you out."
When Marcello says this, I can’t help but lose control of my senses. Fuck—he’s hot. So are Santino and Lazaro.
My eyes flit between the three brothers, each one gorgeous in his own way. Marcello’s dark, cropped hair complements his deadly tattoos, turning me on. What a stunning specimen of a man. His brown eyes could trap a boy in their coffee depths.And the mysterious scar on his face turns me on.
Lazaro’s snake tattoo on his right arm with Arabic writing does crazy things to me, too. I stare at his thick, hard cock rising between his legs, and wonder what the tattoo means.I bet it means he’s an amazing lover.
Lastly, my gaze locks on Santino. A pulse of sheer carnal delight thrums behind my temples, blurring my vision. His black eyes that are specked with gold combined with his enormous height cause my asshole to clench. And the scars on his chest—oh, those scars. I want to lick each one, tasting them, trying to decipher how he got them. This man has done fucked-up shit. Maybe even more so than me.
"Well." I slither out of Santino’s arms and sit my ass on the bank. "I’m waiting."
Santino spreads my legs, then brings his right hand between my cheeks. "Look at that. Nice and tight for Daddy."
A moan escapes me as my head rolls back. "Fuck."
My dick fills against my abs. I’ve always had one that sticks straight up—it doesn’t curve like some men I saw in prison.
I’m cut, which means that my pink crown is always ready for stimulation.
With his left hand, Santino pumps my shaft—his right massages my hole.
"Yeah, boy." Santino’s voice is husky. "No one stretched you out in prison—they left you whole. Intact. Perfect for us."
I’m not ready to discuss the shit that went down in Rikers. Yes—mendidhave their way with me. It’s an honor that Santino thinks I’m tight enough that didn’t happen.
I won’t tell him the truth—not now. That can wait.
Right now, all that matters is that I feel his lips on my hole.
I moan, leaning back on the bank, thrusting my legs apart. "What are you waiting for, Daddy?"
These men can’t handle me. I’m a wild thing—a boy in need of stimulation and love. Yet I’m not a breakable boy like ones I’m sure they’ve met before.
My past has made me ferocious. A fighter. Strong.
Lazaro walks to my left side. "Such a pretty boy. You’re perfect for Daddy."
He runs his hand across my cheek, sending tingles coursing through my flesh. Then—it drops to my chest, where he tweaks my left nipple, sending lightning bolts exploding inside me.
I trap a groan behind my teeth, refusing to show Lazaro how much I enjoy this. Nipple play—one of my favorite things.
How can you not love it? When a man tweaks your bud, bringing it to a stiff peak, it’s impossible not to lose your bearings. Keeping track of time and place is difficult.
In prison, I was fortunate enough that the few Daddies I consensually slept with, stimulated my nipples. They didn’t dive straight for my hole or throat like the vicious predators did.
Marcello slides his cock in my right hand. "Feast your eyes upon it, boy. A cock big enough for your sexual appetite—one that you won’t be able to get enough of."
I stare at each Daddy’s cock.My my my.A hungry sensation swells within me, making my balls rise as sparks pop in my gut.
