On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(22)
Jason sat the laptop back down, and Tristan and Jared came into view again—Jared looked slightly off guard there for a moment because Tristan had his hand around Jared’s cock and was stroking him slowly and firmly, grinning at him. Jason moved to kiss Jared, and they adjusted their positions easily so that they were all kneeling on the bed and Tristan was slowly jerking them both off while they kissed and swapped partners during the kissing. Jason was very likely the oldest—and Jared would hopefully never grow out of his extremely cute twink frame, while Tristan was somewhere in the middle.
There wasn’t much of an age gap between them, though, and they were all slim and fit. Lean, lithe, flexible, graceful in the sexiest ways imaginable. Blake already knew Tristan and Jared had been strippers at one time or another—and Lord, they were good at what they did—and now he suspected even more strongly that Jason was or had been a stripper too. As he watched Jason rub up against Tristan, narrow hips rocking slightly as if in a pantomime of f*cking the slightly smaller rentboy, he imagined men walking into a strip club and dumping their life savings at Jason’s feet.
Jared put a hand against Jason’s chest and pushed him back a little. Jason sat up straighter, and when Jared changed position, getting on his hands and knees in front of Jason, both Jason and Blake pulled in audible breaths. Tristan moved too, and Blake couldn’t decide who to watch—Jared sucking Jason’s dick like his life depended on it, or Tristan kneeling behind Jason and making out with him over his shoulder, hands running all over Jason’s smooth abs and chest.
Jesus f*ck. Blake had watched a lot of porn in his life, and he’d watched a lot of men fooling around in front of him, but this might’ve been the hottest thing he’d ever seen. If the three of them had been in the room with him, he would’ve blown his load by now. The three prostitutes he’d practically been addicted to, kissing and sucking and touching and hard as hell right there on his screen in front of him. More. God. He wanted to see more.
But they were apparently content to carry on as they were—Jared going to town on Jason’s dick, and Tristan and Jason making out while Tristan pressed his cock against Jason’s ass.
Fuck him, Blake wanted to beg. He didn’t even care who did the f*cking or who got f*cked, but goddamn, he wanted someone to—
Ah, that was the game, wasn’t it? The three of them had stamina to burn and could probably keep this going for hours, regardless of it being ridiculously late—well, early—in London, and with the possibility of that fifteen-thousand-pound pot swelling based on Blake’s wants and desires, they were no doubt perfectly happy to do exactly that.
Fine. If he was going to pay through the nose, he was going to get his money’s worth.
He set his laptop aside for a moment, and kept his attention glued on the screen as he slipped his boxers off. And his shirt for good measure—no point in being dressed while he was watching the hottest and most expensive porno ever. Then he put his laptop back on his knee and got comfortable, one hand steadying the computer while he wrapped the other around his dick and started stroking.
“Jared,” he said. “Switch to Tristan.”
Jared sat back on his heels. Tristan and Jason changed position, and now it was Jason wrapped around Tristan from behind, kissing him deeply and teasing his nipple with his thumbnail. And Jared obeyed too—he held Tristan’s cock at the base and sucked it with enthusiasm that couldn’t be manufactured. Not even for a piece of fifteen grand.
Tristan was breathing hard, abs quivering as he made out with Jason and gripped Jared’s hair. Before long, he was moving his hips and f*cking Jared’s mouth, and somebody—Jared?—moaned with intense, genuine pleasure.
Tristan broke the kiss and faced forward. Maybe his neck was cramping, or maybe he couldn’t concentrate on kissing anymore. He gazed down at Jared and licked his lips, then let his head fall back, and Jason immediately took advantage—he kissed beneath Tristan’s ear, drawing an “Oh f*ck” from Tristan’s lips.
Blake was trembling now too. He slowed his strokes on his cock, and eventually stopped—he didn’t want to come too soon.
Tristan groaned. “For God’s sake, I need to f*ck somebody.”
Right then, Jason’s eyes flicked up and met Blake’s. Lips still pressed against the side of Tristan’s throat, he said, “Well, Blake? What’ll it be?”
Blake considered the possibilities, gaze shifting from one gorgeous man to another. “Jared, I have a question for you.”
Jared turned to the camera, still stroking Tristan’s cock.
“Have you—” Blake cleared his throat. “Have you ever taken two guys at once?”
Jared’s eyes widened. Jason lifted his head and exchanged glances with Tristan, both of them grinning.
“Um . . .” Jared cleared his throat. “No.”
“Are you game?”
Jared looked up at the other two, then back at Blake, and he swept his tongue across his lips. “It’ll cost you.”
“I fully expect it to,” Blake said. “Name your price.”
Jared turned to Jason and Tristan again. Something unspoken passed between the three of them, as if Jason shared Jared and Tristan’s effortless telepathy. Maybe it was a thing rentboys developed when they worked together, or maybe the three of them were genuinely that close, but those were not blank stares.