“I said, open your fucking mouth.” His tone demanded compliance this time, and Zayne’s lips parted. “I think we need to re-establish a little bit of trust. I can’t have us off fucking someone else while you’re busy doubting us. So maybe a lesson is in order before we meet up with this young lady you want to put your dick inside of.”
Zayne grunted and bucked underneath him. “You want to put your dick in her too.”
“Which is why I chose off site.”
“We’ve never done that before.”
“Not true. The first time I fucked you, we were off site.”
Zayne’s pupils dilated, the reminder acting like an instant aphrodisiac, and Ethan brushed the head of his cock across Zayne’s waiting lips.
“That single bed in your boarding room.” He pushed forward into Zayne’s mouth and groaned. “It still makes me harder than any other memory—and with you, I have a whole fucking lot.”
Zayne’s lips tightened around him, and Ethan reached for the back of his head.
“Do you remember?” He twisted his fingers in Zayne’s hair. “We had to have the ultimate trust. You had to keep quiet, and I had to make sure not to leave any marks… Kind of like now, you have to trust that I won’t choke you with my dick.”
He slid in that final inch and bumped the back of Zayne’s throat, and when Zayne coughed, Ethan let him go so his head could rest back on the mattress.
Ethan followed him down and planted his hands on the comforter, then began to fuck that wicked mouth. He gripped the covers tight as his knees pressed harder into Zayne’s arms—something that suited Zayne just fine, judging by the throaty growls vibrating around his shaft.
Ethan went at him, thrusting in and out until his balls drew up tight, and when a strangled groan finally hit his ears, Ethan’s entire body stiffened and he exploded all over Zayne’s tongue. Zayne tensed beneath him and swallowed it down.
Jesus fucking Christ. This was exactly what Ethan needed after their week apart. As he pulled out and slid down Zayne’s sticky body, he realized it was exactly what Zayne had needed too.
Ethan rubbed their spent, naked dicks together and planted his hands on either side of Zayne’s head. When he noticed the tears that had leaked from his eyes, he leaned down to taste the evidence of his man’s devotion.
“I would never do anything to put you in a situation that might get you in trouble. That’s why I chose off site. She’s young. It’s legal there.”
“It’s complicated there.”
“Do you trust us?” He raised his head to see Zayne’s blissed-out eyes focused on him.
“Always.”
“Then it’s not complicated. I love you.”
“I love you too. I was just asking, that’s all.”
“Uh huh.”
“Never any doubts.” Zayne leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips. “She’s not like us, you know. She has no idea what her true nature is.”
“I know.”
“But that’s what makes her appealing, right? We get to be the first to show her?”
“It definitely doesn’t make her unappealing.”
Zayne chuckled as they cleaned up and climbed under the covers, where, after too many nights apart, they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“STOP. RIGHT. THERE.”
Chloé froze as the bottom of her stilettos landed on the hardwood floors of her bedroom, and she scanned the darkness for the person belonging to that all-too-familiar voice.
It was just closing in on two thirty a.m., and she’d been hoping against all hope that her fathers would be fast asleep when she crept back into the house. Yeah, no such luck.
“Papa… What are you doing up so late?”
“Is that really where you want to start this conversation?”
No, but it seemed like the safest course right now.
When she didn’t respond, however, her papa got to his feet and flicked on her corner lamp. The bright light made her wince, but she had enough wits about her to quickly clasp her arms in front of herself, hiding the red wristband. As her eyes finally adjusted, and she caught sight of the displeasure on her papa’s face, she sent up a quick prayer that the light bulb would go out and save her from his disappointment.
“Where have you been, Chloé?”
Damn it. If there was one thing she hated to do, it was to lie to her fathers—which, granted, she seemed to be doing more in the last twenty-four hours than she had most of her life—and her papa? She hated lying to him the most.
He was a tough nut, a man who was very particular on whom he let into his circle of trust, and whenever she broke that trust, she felt like a total shit. Kind of like she did now. But there was no way she could tell him the truth.
Out of all of her fathers, her papa was by far the most protective. No one was ever good enough for his angel, and while Chloé agreed most of the time, she often wished she could be the one to make that decision.
Take, for example, Keith Hughes. Her prom date, the potential love of her life—okay, that might be pushing it, but still. The night of prom, he’d arrived at their house at seven o’clock on the dot to pick her up, and then proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes being grilled by her three fathers.
For the rest of the night, Keith apologized every time he accidentally grazed her arm. He probably broke ten traffic laws in an effort to have her home before curfew, when he all but shoved her out of the car door.
So yes, lying in this particular situation was unavoidable, because there was no way in hell that Joel Thornton-Priestley would ever let his daughter spend the night at an adults-only club. Let alone go into the office of the owners and—
“Chloé?” Her papa’s stern voice had her mind snapping back to the present. “Where were you tonight?”
Think, Chloé, think. “I was at Shay’s.”
“Shayla’s?”
“Yeah, we, um, decided to hang out and listen to some music after shift, and we lost track of time.”
Her papa crossed his arms, his brow pulling down into a deep, deep frown. He totally wasn’t buying that.
“If that’s the case, why are you climbing in through your bedroom window?”
Okay, he has a point.
As Chloé racked her brain trying to come up with a believable answer, he crossed her room and gestured to her outfit.
“And why are you wearing something that looks like you went out for the night? Last time I checked, you dressed a lot less flashy to hang out at Shayla’s.”
Damn lawyer. But he was right. If she really had been going to Shayla’s, she would’ve worn leggings and a hoodie, not stilettos and a leather miniskirt.
“Flashy? Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an observation, and stop trying to avoid the question. Where were you tonight, and why are you sneaking in at”—he glanced at his watch—“two thirty in the morning?”
“I told you—”
“You were at Shayla’s.”
“Yes.”
He let out a sigh and stroked his bearded chin. “I don’t believe you.”
She was getting that loud and clear.