Without Reservations

straddling him and his cock pressing into Bit’s hot, sweet hole before Keaton could even form a protest.
    Bit sank down on Chay’s cock and let out a moan. His back arched, his muscles contracted around Chay. His eyes snapped to Chay’s and he came, hard. Spunk shot everywhere, all over Chay’s belly and chest, even on his chin.
    The sight of that thick throbbing cock spewing for him almost had Chay coming too. Fuck. He hadn’t even had to touch Bit’s dick. He gave his mate a few minutes for the aftershocks to wear off and tugged on Keaton’s hips. “Ride me,” he whispered.
    Keaton’s eyes glazed over. He started moving, raising himself up and down on Chay. His prick never even softened. He dragged his fingers through the semen on Chay’s belly and brought them to Chay’s lips.
    He opened his mouth and sucked those digits in, tasting salty cum.
    Bit gathered more of the milky essence on his fingers and stuck them in his own mouth.
    “Fuck you’re hot. Love you, Bit.”
    Keaton smiled at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and squeezed his muscles.
    Chay felt it all the way to his toes. He gasped, his legs tensing. The familiar tingling raced up his spine.
    Grabbing his own dick, Bit stroked it as his muscles contracted and released around Chay’s dick.
    Chay’s whole body spasmed. He came, shooting into his mate’s ass, staring into those pale sky blue eyes. He clamped a hand over his own mouth to keep from crying out.
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    Keaton was only seconds behind him, climaxing again, spilling himself on Chay’s stomach. He dropped forward, nuzzling Chay’s neck, and whispered, “Love you, too.”
    After a few minutes, Bit got up, letting Chay’s dick slip from him.
    Chay was almost asleep but the action still managed to make him shiver.
    The next thing he knew, Bit was wiping him down with a warm, wet rag. Then he crawled back onto Chay’s lap, snuggling in close.
    When Chay woke a few minutes later to Bit snoring in his ear, he had a crick in his neck. He jostled Keaton. “Bit, wake up. We’re still in the chair, let’s go to bed.”
    Keaton’s only response was a grunt.
    Chay picked him up and started walking across the room. He kicked the toiletry case Bit left on the floor and tripped. “Umph.” Fortunately, he was close enough to the bed that he tossed Bit onto it in order to keep them both from getting hurt.
    The floor came up fast. Chay caught himself on his hands and knees with a big thud. It smarted a little, but other than that no real damage.
    A loud thump sounded on the other side of the bed followed by a barrage of muffled giggles.
    Chay dipped his head to peer under the bed.
    Keaton lay on the other side, on his back, hands over his face, laughing like a fiend.
    “What are you doing on the floor?”
    Bit turned his head, looking at Chay. “I hit the bed and just kept rolling. I couldn’t stop.” He was so cute, his face all red from laughter.
    Chay grinned. “Are you okay?”
    Bit nodded, still giggling. “Are you?”
    “Ye—”
    There was a knock on the wall, followed by Joe’s amused voice.
    “Would you boys go to sleep, for crying out loud.”
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    Oh God. Heat suffused Chay’s face. He’d never be able to face his father again.
    Bit, the jerk, started laughing so hard he started wheezing.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
    “Grrr…Bit.” Chay threw his hands in the air, letting the bow tie drop to his shoulders, and turned away from the mirror. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Keaton. Even irritated, he made quite a fetching picture in a tux. “I can’t believe we have to wear tuxes to draw your brother out.”
    Keaton wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face and walked over to his mate. He reached up and grabbed Chay’s tie. “We are wearing tuxes for the party, not for Aubrey’s benefit. And you agreed that a party to celebrate our mating would be a good idea.” He tied the tie, kissed Chay’s chin and went to find his cuff links.
    “Yeah, but I didn’t think it was going to be this huge shindig.”
    “This isn’t huge, trust me. You haven’t seen huge. This is tiny, miniscule, itty-bitty for my mother. That woman was born to throw dinner parties and this one is, in her words, ‘cramping her style’. It was all my dad could do to keep her to a guest list of thirty. It’s basically only pack and friends of the