Tristan grinned and quickly sought Jared’s eyes. They were both close, damn close, and likely Rolex wouldn’t mind a few more thrusts, but “wouldn’t mind” wasn’t exactly the most ringing endorsement. As he pulled out, he said, “If you get out of the way, we’ll give you one hell of a show.”
Rolex moved like a drunk, but he did manage to pull out and roll over. He dropped to the side, and made no move to get rid of the condom just yet.
Tristan cursed because he definitely had to get rid of his, and mid-fuck, that grated. Regardless, he pulled the condom off and grabbed a new one, rolled it down and got between Jared’s legs. Sexually, they were hand in glove—a perfect fit in so many ways, and Jared loved Tristan getting a bit bossy when they were both close, so Tristan thrust in hard immediately.
Jared arched and groaned, wrapped his legs around him and pulled him into a hungry kiss while Tristan began to roll his hips, using all the self-control he had to deliver exactly what he knew Jared liked.
And how to get exactly what he wanted: Jared. Just Jared. His kiss, his body, him. Though Tristan was aware of the third man in the room, and aware of why they were all there, he let himself ignore the client, the objective, the money. Now that the air was clear between them, he could move inside Jared and touch him and kiss him without being certain that everything was this close to disaster.
To his side, Rolex moved and slid closer, running his hands along Tristan’s back. “Okay if I touch you?”
Tristan wanted to shrug him off and be alone with Jared, but this was Rolex. One of the hottest johns they’d ever played with, and as it turned out, a damned sweet one, too. He’d been good to them when Tristan had freaked out. He deserved better, and if there was anyone left in the world who Tristan didn’t mind sharing with . . .
“Yeah.” Tristan gave him a long glance and grinned. “Touch me all you like.”
Rolex found the lube and slicked up his fingers, and part of Tristan almost lost it when he realised what the man was planning. What the man did.
Because, damn, when Rolex’s strong fingers slid into his ass and began to fuck him, he did almost lose it. Second-best thing to getting fucked, but the margin was tiny because Rolex knew exactly what he was doing, adding a second finger quickly and nailing his prostate.
Between fucking Jared and being fingered by Rolex, Tristan was in a heaven he’d forgotten existed at all. Weeks’ worth of apprehension had melted away, all his cable-tight muscles relaxed, and his worries no longer kept him from surrendering completely to this. To fucking, being fucked, touching, being touched. Being all tangled up in Jared and not the least bit jealous of the man who was there with them.
He tried to kiss Jared again, but couldn’t remember how. All he could do was move. Move inside Jared, move back against Rolex’s hand—he was too overwhelmed for anything else.
Jared still had his wits about him, though. He grabbed Tristan’s face in both hands and kissed him hard. A shiver went through Tristan. His body may as well have had a mind of its own—his hips knew what they were doing, and his mouth figured out what it was doing, and his mind was just . . . liquid.
“Bet he’s going to come,” Rolex said with a grin in his voice. “Aren’t you, Tristan?”
Tristan just moaned and kept kissing Jared, and fucking him, and riding Rolex’s hand. Rolex was right—he was going to come. Any bloody second, he was going to lose it. He desperately wanted to make Jared come first, but between him and Rolex, Tristan was a goner. He couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t do a thing except move . . . fuck . . . kiss . . .
And come.
He broke the kiss with a gasp. Thrust all the way inside Jared. Shuddered hard.
And Rolex kept fingering him, drawing out his orgasm while Jared rocked his hips and did the same. Someone pinched his nipple. Jared, maybe? He didn’t care. He just didn’t fucking care.
At some point, Rolex pulled out of him, and he pulled out of Jared and rolled over to the other side, breathless and speechless, though one thought was left, so he reached over and took Jared’s cock. With his free hand, he waved Rolex closer and kissed him when he followed, the shared kiss over Jared now a lot more languid than it had been earlier. Rolex’s hand found Jared’s balls. Their fingers touched by accident, and then by design, making Jared squirm harder.
“Bloody . . . hell . . .” Jared’s voice was tight and laced with pure lust and a fair bit of desperation, and then he, too, came all over both their hands.
As he caught his breath, Jared murmured, “Wish I’d brought my fucking mobile along.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “That was hot.”
Rolex laughed. “Good way to get fired, showing up in amateur porn.”
“Amateur? Speak for yourself. I was pretty damn good.” Tristan glared at him, but they all dissolved into laughter at the patently absurd situation.