Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(74)

I closed my eyes and hid my face again, not wanting to actually see them. I wanted to know they were watching, yes. Admiring me. Wanting me. But I didn’t want to see them do it. That was the point at which it started to tip over into too intrusive.

Jace seemed to get the message. He didn’t demand I look around again.

“He has the prettiest cock, too,” Jace said, picking up the thread again. At his tug, the ends of the towel slid loose around my waist. He drew the sides apart like a curtain, not just removing it, but unveiling me with deliberate showmanship. Moist air hit my cock, and I moaned. “Look at that. Just perfect.”

“Oh God,” I whispered as Jace’s fingers skated lightly up and down my exposed dick. He didn’t grasp me or try to stroke me, praise Jesus, because if he had, I would have blown like Mount Vesuvius. He did, however, drag his index finger through the pre-cum dripping down the head and feed it to me, thrusting it deep into my mouth. I sucked on his finger without being told, knowing that was what he was going for.

“And he’s a world-class cocksucker. Just enough gag reflex to make it a little hard for him to take it all. I love to watch him struggle with it, and I’ve never f*cked a tighter throat than his. Must be all those muscles from singing. If he were normally as submissive as he is just this instant, I’d feed him cum with every meal.”

“Ah!” My hips bucked up at that image, which was a powerful one despite my complete lack of interest in anything more than idle submission. Jace knew how to spin a story, that was for damn sure. When the echo of my cry stopped bouncing off the tiles, I could hear the definite slap of skin on skin, someone, somewhere, jerking off hard and fast, moaning softly to himself. The voice was too high-pitched to be our friend, the bear.

“He’s not?” Mr. Bear asked.

“Nope. In fact, you can be damn sure he’s going to take this all out on my ass later.”

“Guess I’d better enjoy this moment while it lasts then, huh?”

“Be my guest.”

A low groan answered that, and I knew without looking that the man’s towel had come off and he was now getting his wank on with intent.

“Lift your knees, angel,” Jace coaxed. “Show him that sweet * he’s not gonna get to f*ck.”

The bear growled. “Oh, that’s just cruel.”

“We could stop,” Jace said offhandedly, shrugging.

“Fuck no. Show me. Show me every bit of it.”

That request took a bit more effort to meet. It was hard to make myself pull my knees up to my chest and brace my feet wide apart, giving him a perfect view down the alley to my balls and ass.

“More,” he demanded, sounding a little breathless. “Show me that slutty little hole.”

“Slide down,” Jace said. I shuddered, but I obeyed, nearly lying in his lap. When I had, he hooked his arms under my knees and pulled them up, bending me in half and tipping the crack of my ass up into full view, pulling my cheeks apart with his hands.

“Like this?”

I writhed again, the humiliation almost too much, almost crossing that border. Too exposed. Too conspicuous. After the past couple days, my * was tender; I didn’t know if it looked it, but it felt like it should be pink and swollen. Like anyone who looked should be able to tell just how thoroughly I’d been f*cked recently. Jace’s fingertip began tickling and pressing around my achy pucker and I was lost again, moaning insensibly, totally gone in the moment.

Then it pushed in, dry except for the moisture of sweat and steam, burning, and I cried out. A chorus of moans echoed me.

“That’s it. That’s it,” Jace murmured. “He wants to hear you scream. Think we can give him that?”

I barely managed to whimper an assent, trembling, folded in half, exposed to the world with Jace’s finger working in and out of my hole. Then he pressed in another finger, still dry, and I did scream. I thrashed in my nearly trapped position. The bear across from us grunted a full-throated encouragement.

“Need me to stop?” Jace asked.

“Oh God . . . Oh . . . I don’t . . . No. No . . .” I finally managed to shake my head. “Just . . . lube . . .”

If I hadn’t been quite so sore from that plug he’d bragged about, I probably could have handled it, but yeah, no, the dry thing wasn’t happening this time.

“Okay.” Jace eased his fingers carefully out and removed his arms from the backs of my legs, letting me stretch out again. He upended the small pouch he’d been carrying around with him since we’d arrived, with the condoms and little blister packs of lube in it. “Here.”

He repositioned us so that I was on my hands and knees with my ass still exposed to the room, and he reclined nearly parallel to me, so that if he’d been under me, we might have sixty-nined. Instead, he just pulled his towel open. As he did so, I noticed his hands were shaking.

“Suck me off while I finger-f*ck you.” His mutter sounded a little urgent. “You don’t know how f*cking horny you’re making me, doing all this. I’m about to explode. Just . . . give them a few good screams first. Make sure they really want you.”

“Okay,” I whispered, and then his fingers, slick with lube, thrust back into my ass.

I screamed again because they went deep, deep and hard, and I still ached and it hurt and it was good and everyone could see it. I screamed for a million reasons, resting my forehead on Jace’s thigh.