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"There’s something I must confess first." Jericho’s voice drops a notch.
He confesses about the assaults he experienced in prison. He said that once, he dropped the soap and a man named Jasper took advantage of him. That man became his prison Daddy—the man who "protected" him from others in exchange for sexual favors.
Jericho admits that Jasper used him nonconsensually. Rage unfurls within me, making me see red. I clench my fists—but it does no good to stave off the anger pounding me.
"I’m so sorry, boy," I whisper.
Jericho rubs his eyes on my arm. "I was strong. Stronger than most boys would’ve been. I didn’t let it kill me."
I lift Jericho to his feet. "We’ll make this right, boy. Today, we’ll kiss every inch of your body—especially in the spots that Jasper hurt. To bring you back to life. It’s not everything—we’ll also enroll you in a Mafia therapy session that a lot of people in the lifestyle praise. They also work with people who’ve been in the criminal justice system who’ve faced abuse."
"Sometimes, a flower has its petals damaged," Marcello whispers, holding Jericho’s hand. "But a tender gardener—a gardener that’s spent years bringing flowers back to life—can heal it."
Jericho lifts his teary eyes. He plants a kiss on each of our lips, then nods. "I’m ready."
We dry Jericho off, then bring him to our bedroom. We make him use the potty first—duh.
The giant, oversized potty makes him tremble, and he can’t go whiz with his hard dick all that easily.
Only when I squeeze his hand does it become easier. He relaxes against my chest as he makes it happen, proving that he’s a very good boy.
When we reach our room, we lay him on the bed and take out a bottle of massage oil.
I squirt oil in Marcello’s hands, who rubs them together. He takes the bottle from me and squirts a few shots in Lazaro’s hand, who thanks him as he works the liquid in.
Our hands are slick and hot when we bring them to Jericho’s tender body. We work our palms over his tense muscles—his back, abs, ass, and cock.
When Marcello slides a finger in Jericho’s hole, he groans as he clenches. "This is where Jasper hurt me."
"Let the pain be a seed, boy," Marcello whispers, so full of understanding. "A seed that will grow a plant of love. I’m watering it—helping you overwrite your bad memories."
"Thank you." Jericho’s voice is firm. "I appreciate it."
When Marcello finishes probing Jericho’s hole, I bring my lips to it and blow a fat juicy raspberry in his folds.
Jericho moans, the sensation so unexpected. His back arches, and he drools into the mattress, his lithe body trembling, his muscles clenching.
I lap at his channel walls, grunting and growling as I gorge myself on my boy.
Mmmm-mmmm.This is heaven. Love. Life itself.
Jericho's head whips back. "S-So wonderful, Daddy."
I lick a line up his crack. "You’re spreading. That’s a very good thing—you’re ready."
Marcello nods. "We’re proud of you."
Lazaro squirts lube on his shaft and milks it. Up, down—his palm brings his rod to a stiff erection, which he brings to Jericho’s crack after I remove my head.
"I’m going in now, boy." Lazaro grips Jericho’s hair with his right hand. "This is for you. To let you know how loved you are."
"Love." Jericho’s voice is breathless. "I’m so lucky you three love me. Thank you."
Our boy has manners. This is wonderful—and it bodes very well for the future of our relationship.
With a groan, Lazaro slides into Jericho’s hole. Jericho whimpers, his head burying in a pillow, as his ass juts up.
Lazaro dicks him down hard and deep, sliding his cock in all the way, his balls gently knocking against his taint.
