Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Jack smiled and teased the tip of his tongue around mine. “We’re gonna get Grandpa off, and then we’re out of here.”
Well, Grandpa was currently finger-fucking me, and I didn’t want to leave, goddammit.
A gasp gusted out of me, and I had to lean forward a little. I pushed back against the man’s fingers too. They felt so damn good.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
Fingered by an older stranger while a younger force called the shots. This was my heaven. My torturous heaven—because I wasn’t gonna get off now. That became abundantly clear as Jack shifted his focus to the other man. He stroked him off quickly, causing the man to muffle his groans behind his hand. But he managed to keep two fingers buried within me, and I loved how gropey he was.
“That’s it. You’re almost there, you beautiful old whore. You like fingering my Daddy? Huh? Thank me for letting you do that.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the man moaned. “Oh, sweet boy. I’m gonna come.”
Lucky bastard. I sucked in a breath and smelled the sex around us as he came in Jack’s fist.
But what about me?
4
What had just happened?
“I might buy the entire waffle place at this rate.” Jack buckled his seat belt and checked his phone. “Man, I really worked up an appetite with that run.”
I…was in a daze.
Sure, it was the run that’d worked up his appetite. Nothing else.
I started the car and backed out of the parking space, leaving room behind for at least two little Smart cars.
I cleared my throat and slowed down. We’d left the gym just as the early lunch crowd had taken to the streets. “Shouldn’t we discuss what happened in there?”
“What do you mean?” He looked over at me. “Are you feeling all right? You have to tell me if you’re not.”
What the fuck? Why was he acting as if nothing weird had gone down? I’d watched my nephew masturbate. He’d come on my face. I’d sucked his cock. I’d gotten fucking fingered by a stranger! And then we’d showered again. He had applied almond oil again. He’d given me a glimpse of his cock again. But he’d been so casual. When we’d gotten dressed, he’d talked about restaurants he wanted to revisit while he was here.
“You’re acting as if nothing’s happened between us,” I stated.
“Not at all.” He smiled, not bothered one bit. “It’s going on a loop in my head right as we speak. Like a nice companion piece to your profile text on the Mclean House community site.”
I coughed. Had I heard that right?
“That’s why I was late this morning, Uncle Franklin,” he chuckled. “I ran across your Tinder profile and discovered you’re a member of one of my friend’s kink communities. You bet your ass I had to do some digging. Didn’t take long to find The Handler’s Whore, by the way.”
No. No. This wasn’t just too much—it was more than my brain could handle. I couldn’t process a damn word of what he was saying. I even had to pull over into a loading zone, and I killed the engine before I roughly scrubbed my hands over my face.
This wasn’t happening.
Too much, too fast.
“Franklin, are you okay?”
“No.” I shook my head repeatedly and wanted to disappear. Actually, I wanted to be with my daughter. In her fort. Reading her a story—which she didn’t like anymore, because “I can read myself, Daddy.”
“Hey—look at me, honey.”
Honey.
That was bizarre. But his voice had turned comforting and a degree or two warmer, so when he gathered my face in his hands, I let him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured imploringly. “I’m doing this all wrong. It’s just playtime, Franklin. I won’t try to trick you into anything else—I know you don’t want anything serious. It was why I figured that we could simply have a good time together—and that it wouldn’t be weird afterward.”
Just playtime.
With Jackson.
“I know you don’t want anything serious.”
I screwed my eyes shut and felt all my jumbled thoughts coiling together like… No, it was more like a bundle of yarn in my head. If I yanked at one end, everything got worse at the center, and countless other strings were pulled at the same time.
“Take a deep breath,” he urged quietly.
I breathed in deeply through my nose, but I wasn’t sure that was the problem. I didn’t feel anxious or anything. It was more a matter of information overload, and I couldn’t process my reactions. I couldn’t process his words.
“You know of Mclean House,” I muttered.
“I do. You seem to forget I’m from this area, Franklin. DC may be a big city, but when you add the fact that I’m gay and involved in BDSM, we’re down to a few communities.” He paused. “A friend of mine is one of the founders of Mclean House.”
Jesus.
Considering most of them were closer to my age, I supposed Macklin was the logical candidate. But that was before I’d witnessed Jack stroke off a man who was probably collecting social security. Who knew at this point. It could be anyone. Mclean House had eight founding members.