Take It Off (Market Garden, #2)(14)

Because, damn, when Rolex’s strong fingers slid into his ass and began to f*ck him, he did almost lose it. Second-best thing to getting f*cked, but the margin was tiny because Rolex knew exactly what he was doing, adding a second finger quickly and nailing his prostate.

Between f*cking 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 f*cking, being f*cked, 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 f*cking 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 . . . f*ck . . . 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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.

Jared rolled his eyes. “Was a bit of a rocky start there, though.” He stretched out on the bed, looking completely sated. “Somebody pour me into a bottle and get me home. Not sure I have any bones left.”

Rolex laughed again and kissed Jared lightly. “There’s no rush to leave. The two of you can stay as long as you like.” Humour faltering a bit, he turned to Tristan. “Unless you need to go.”

Earlier, Tristan couldn’t have escaped this place soon enough. Now, he rather liked lying on the bed with Rolex and Jared, all three of them satisfied and—most importantly—the air cleared with Jared.

“We’re not in any hurry.” He trailed his fingertips down the middle of Jared’s abs, watching them contract beneath his light touch. “You’re the client, after all.”

“True.” Rolex’s brow creased. “Do I get the impression I won’t be a client again in the future?”

Tristan glanced at Jared, whose gaze was fixed on Tristan, eyebrows up. To Rolex, Tristan said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I have it in me to keep doing this.”

“It’s a shame.” Rolex smiled. He paused, then quickly added, “But I can understand no one wants to stay in this business forever. Especially if you’re”—he gestured at Jared, then Tristan—“otherwise engaged.”

Jared chuckled. “Well, we didn’t say we were engaged.”

Tristan laughed.

Rolex rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Jared reached up and stroked Tristan’s hair. To Rolex, he said, “When you come to town again, we might not be there. We’ll . . . we’ll play it by ear.”

“Guess I’ll have to find someone else for my London trips.” Rolex sounded amused, but also genuinely disappointed.

Tristan kept teasing Jared’s abs, but looked at Rolex. “You like paying for it, don’t you?”

Rolex’s cheeks coloured. “Probably more than a respectable man should, but . . .” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I do get a bit of a kick out of it.”

Tristan and Jared exchanged glances. Both grinned.

Jared turned to Rolex. “In that case, we’ve got someone who might be right up your alley.”

Rolex perked up. “Is that right?”

“Yep.” Tristan flashed him a grin. “When you come back next time, go to the Garden and ask for Jason.”

“You think he’s my type?”