Take It Off (Market Garden, #2)(12)

Then Rolex pulled back. “Except if I’m f*cking you, what about him?” He stroked Jared’s hair.

Tristan grinned again. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Now, that’s just greedy.” Jared pushed up on an elbow. “I have a better idea.”

“Better?” Rolex’s voice was barely a croak. “Do tell.”

“Well. You”—Jared tapped Rolex’s chest with his finger—“are going to f*ck me. But Tristan gets to f*ck you.” Jared grinned wickedly at Tristan. “Because that’s the hottest combination I can think of—I get to see both of you come.”

Tristan’s throat was tight, but that was arousal—at the idea, at Jared clearly into it, at finally getting a chance at Rolex’s gorgeous arse. Fucking the guy who was f*cking Jared? Yep, that worked. That most definitely worked. He was even willing to give up the best place—the one in the middle—as a thank-you because Rolex had been bloody nice about the whole thing.

Rolex glanced at Tristan. “You all right with that? Because I am.”

“I am. And you’re a bit of a switch, aren’t you?” Tristan grabbed the man’s jaw and kissed him again. “Because I’m really looking forward to f*cking you hard.”

Rolex gasped. “I’ll g-get the condoms.”

“Here.” Tristan handed him one.

Jared grinned and picked up the lube. Everything they needed was within easy reach—Tristan and Jared hadn’t only been making out on the bed while Rolex had been gone.

Without a word, Jared lay back on the bed and let his legs fall open, pushing up his hips enough to give Rolex a perfect view of two slick fingers entering his hole. Even Tristan forgot to breathe.

Jared bit his lip and closed his eyes. Whether for effect or out of genuine pleasure, Tristan couldn’t tell, but it gave him goose bumps either way. Few things turned him on like Jared being turned on—totally hard, f*cking himself with his fingers, enjoying the hell out of what he was doing and, Tristan guessed, being watched.

“Jesus,” Rolex breathed. With shaky hands, he picked up the lube and started putting some on the condom he’d already rolled on.

Tristan grabbed another condom and tore the wrapper. He’d been freaking out earlier, but now, he was wound up for an entirely different reason. Everything was okay. Hell, better than okay. He was going to f*ck Rolex, and Rolex was going to f*ck Jared, and . . . and Tristan was going to come before he even put on the condom if he didn’t calm himself down.

He paused for a few seconds to compose himself and then quickly put on the condom before reaching for the lube.

And while he’d been distracted, Rolex had moved. He was above Jared now, Jared’s slender legs parted for the man’s narrow hips, and watching the two of them kiss like that had Tristan spun up just the way he’d been when he’d watched them make out in the limo last time, en route to the hotel for Jared’s spectacular lap dance.

He shivered and tried to concentrate on not spilling the lube anywhere but on his own hand. Easier said than done when Rolex sat up, and when his hand disappeared between him and Jared. Rolex’s hips moved a little, and there was that brief moment of tension as if he’d met some resistance. Tristan’s heart pounded—he knew exactly what that felt like, and he almost groaned himself when Rolex swore under his breath as the resistance gave and his hips slowly slid forwards.

Jared’s hands ran up Rolex’s arms, fingers twitching as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to grab on or just feel him. When his hands came to rest on Rolex’s shoulders, his fingers pressed in, and right then, Rolex started thrusting. Not even thrusting, really, just moving, f*cking Jared while Jared used his grasp on Rolex’s shoulders for leverage as he rocked his hips.

Though Tristan had freaked out at the thought of watching them earlier, he liked it now. He loved how their bodies fit together, and hearing the sounds they made as they found a slow, steady rhythm.

But to hell with watching them when he could join in.

He put the lube on the condom, then some more on his finger, and moved right behind Rolex, distracted for a moment by the play of muscles on his shoulders and the different view of his thrusting body. He slid his fingers between the man’s cheeks and probed at his hole—impatient to get inside, but not enough to deliver anything less than a top-class f*ck. When he got to the ring of muscle, Rolex stopped moving and widened his stance, even pushed his arse further out. Regardless of every sign of readiness, Tristan still pressed a finger in first, and then a second, because the man did yield to him pretty quickly, though he was tensing and tightening, likely from the sensory overload.

“Don’t move,” Tristan ordered.

“Not easy.” Rolex blew out a deep, shuddering breath.

“Ever done it like this?” Tristan worked his fingers deeper and kept teasing the muscle, almost pulling out before he pushed back in. “Fucking one guy while getting f*cked?”

“Tried once, turned into a bit of a disaster.” Rolex gulped.

“Well.” Tristan pulled his fingers out and positioned himself with one hand, wrapping his free arm around Rolex’s taut waist. “You’re in good hands with us.” On the last word, he pushed in, keeping the angle just right, and grinned when Rolex’s only response was a choked gasp. “Don’t move. Not yet. Can’t have you blow too quickly in Jared’s sweet little arse, can we?”