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All four of us are in Lazaro's snuggle room. I'm in the middle with Jericho, Lazaro and Marcello are on either side.
Jericho's right hand drifts across Lazaro’s firm chest, and his left one is threaded through Marcello’s hair.
My—God.I can’t believe I ate his sexy hole this afternoon.
I confess—when I first laid eyes on him at the bar, I didn’t think he had what it took to be our boy.
Three ripped, intense Daddies like me and my two brothers would be overwhelming for many boys.I’m not naïve.
Jericho not only took my advances like a champ—he jerked Lazaro and Marcello off until they busted on him. All three of us came today.
How special. How magical. How beautiful.
I snake my right hand onto his belly, then massage his skin.
My boy—our boy—isn’t a twig like so many others I hated dating in the past. No, his time in the joint gave him a body. I assume he worked out like a motherfucker—perhaps to stave off male advances.
I don't know this for sure, because we still haven’t had that conversation yet. Jericho needs to open up to us about his incarceration.
You made a mistake earlier this afternoon that you’re not acknowledging. You told Jericho: "No one stretched you out in prison—they left you whole. Intact. Perfect for us." This might not be true. The look that flashed in his eyes told you as much. You have to figure out who hurt him—and then hunt them down.
Jericho rests his chin on my chest. "Like you touching me."
I turn to him… and fight the urge to melt into my mattress. He looks so peaceful, his breath fluttering out of his lips, the faintest hint of a smile brushing his cheeks.
Reaching out, I feather my index finger across his chin, then tuck a strand of hair over his ear.
It takes everything in me to resist the urge to kiss him. Tick his jaw up, lean in, and press my lips to his.
I don’t—Lord knows why. I want to savor this moment. Speak to my new princess. Without working myself into another tizzy.
I nuzzle my nose against his. "I’m glad you feel that way."
Jericho’s chin moves up and down. "You’re so sexy. Lazaro and Marcello are, too."
"We’re the three bears," I growl, my hot breath cascading over his temple. "My Little goldilocks."
Lazaro wakes up from his snooze. Jutting his hand out, he drapes it over Jericho’s hand that’s still resting on his chest. "OurLittle goldilocks."
Jericho turns toward Lazaro. "Yes, Daddy. I know."
Lazaro leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Jericho’s lips. The gesture is so sweet, so unexpected, it catches me off-guard.
I grip my brother’s shoulder. "No kissing our boy. This is cuddle time—no more sex."
The memory of our wonderful hookup in the pool floats back through my mind—again.The way Jericho shook and cried out when he came will forever be printed on my memory.
God—could a boy be more perfect? No. That’s the honest answer. I’ve been with male models. So have my brothers. The hottest boys in New York fashion week can’t hold a candle to Jericho’s flame.
Once, we traveled to Abu Dhabi to interrogate a Middle Eastern enemy. We happened to be in time for the annual male sex slave fashion show—none of the slaves were as hot as Jericho. That's actually how Marcello got his snake tattoo with Arabic writing. One of us needed to get tatted to gain access to the venue. Despite the fact that the slaves were freshly legal and adorned in sumptuous robes, they didn't do it for us. Jericho is far superior. Believe me—I'd know.
Jericho pushes his lips against Lazaro’s. "Not sexual. Merely a Daddy kiss."
Lazaro cups Jericho’s chin, then feathers his mouth up to Jericho’s ear, licking it.
Jericho moans, his back arching, his hand leaving Lazaro’s chest and twining through his hair.
"This is only to show you how much I care about you." Lazaro’s voice leaves no room to doubt his intentions. "Don't do anything crazy, pretty boy. No pulling my cock out and making it hard—just want to be close to you. To my boy who likes pink pretties."
