More, Sloan Parker [guided reading books TXT] 📗

I ran my palm over his cheek. I couldn't resist the dark hair over pale skin. The two-day-old stubble scratched the heel of my hand. The rest of me wanted to feel the scrape, the tease. My chest, my abs, my balls. Everywhere tingled, ached to feel his face graze over it.

I rested my hand in the waves of his hair. I listened to his soft snores and focused in on the movie again, a new reinvented superhero flick Matthew'd been dying to see. He made it through the first thirty minutes.

Stupid sleeping man— who needed to remember to shave every day and get more sleep at night. He was driving me crazy.

It wouldn't be as bad if Richard would get off his computer and come into the living room. The man hadn't closed a deal in over four months, and he couldn't hide the disappointment or the fact that he was feeling the crunch where his finances were concerned. He worked every chance he got, searched online real estate listings, made calls, pitched project after project. Success accompanied none of it. A tight coil of tension had attached to the man's shoulders. Even when we made love, I could feel it, and nothing Matthew or I did could work out the frustration.

A half hour after Matthew feel asleep, Richard finally made it into the living room. He sat in the chair across from us. I gave up on the movie and left the local news on instead.

I eyed Richard. Would the nonsexual closeness between Matthew and me bother him? He smiled at me and licked his lips in the way that always told me he was aroused. Nothing in his demeanor indicated anything akin to jealousy. We'd handled that avenue of a threesome with few problems. Why was that?

Right then, I didn't care. I returned his stare and stroked a sleeping Matthew on the back. Richard lifted his hips and slid down the cushion until his ass hung off the edge of the chair. I lowered my gaze to the bulge at the front of his pants.

As soon as he asked me what I wanted, I'd tell him. Me sitting on his dick. My back to his chest. My legs spread wide. Matthew kneeling before me, dragging his mouth over my cock.

Richard's breath came in shallow pants. He had one hand flat across his chest, a T-shirt-covered nipple pinched between two fingers. Without looking away from me, his hand drifted to his crotch and rubbed the erection through his pants. A few strokes later, he unbuttoned the top button. My plan was reforming. I'd watch him masturbate; tell him how to work himself over. All while I fondled Matthew awake.

I licked at my bottom lip, and Richard moaned. I kept working my lips with my tongue, never looking away from him. I ran my hand down the front of Matthew and pressed my palm against his cock. He let out a low, sleep-filled moan and rolled into the touch.

The light from the television changed as the local news returned from a commercial break. I hadn't been paying attention, but as soon as I heard it, Richard and his erection were gone. My hand on Matthew stilled.

All I could focus on was my father's voice.

“It is too early for me to talk about my plans for the next election. But if I do decide to run for the office of President of the United States, I know the great people of this state will support me in that endeavor.” A cacophony of cheers followed. A female reporter spoke. “Some have said the senator's chances of winning the presidential nomination are quite good. His energy bill elevated his popularity above either of the other recent picks.”

I clicked off the television.

So that's it.

The air in my lungs thickened. It caught in my throat.

Three men living together. The press would never leave us alone.

Richard's hand stilled with the ring of the telephone. He answered it, and without saying anything more than hello, handed it over to me.

I grabbed the phone with a shaking hand. “Yeah?”

The voice on the line sounded nothing like the polished, professional one from the television. “Did you see the news?”

My hand recoiled from Matthew. I clutched the back of the couch. “Yeah, Dad.”

Richard sat and watched me.

“I'm glad you saw it.” My father's voice hissed in my ear like a snake warning its prey. “Now maybe you'll understand what I'm up against. Maybe you'll do as I say.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to cancel your membership to that God-awful club, and I want you to move back to your own apartment. Living with two men; really, Luke? Could you have done anything more appalling? You and I both know whatever you've got going with those men isn't serious and it isn't going to last. You'll fuck it up eventually. Like Tim. So end it now.” I heard the threat his words didn't say.

“Fuck you, Dad.” I hung up the phone and slammed it onto the coffee table.

Matthew stirred. “What's wrong?”

“What is it?” Richard asked.

I shrugged Matthew off me and stood. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I just... I can't.”

Matthew's wide, sleep-filled eyes stared up at me.

“I need to be alone.”

Richard stood and reached out for me.

I held up a hand and backed away. “I need a few minutes alone.”

“Okay. Matthew and I'll be here when you're ready.”

I staggered out of the living room and hesitated in the hallway. I glanced up the stairs and then at the front door. My decision made, I picked up my keys and headed out.

I crept into the house two hours later, numb from the beers— so many I'd lost count. Exactly how I'd wanted to feel when I'd stormed out earlier.

Most of the house was dark, but the hall light they'd left on offered enough illumination for me to do what needed to be done. I staggered into the dark