Page 21 of Cohesion

Jericho grinned slyly, full of carnal promise. He tugged Quinn away from Peyton and turned him, pushing his back against the edge of a desk. He slid to his knees and palmed Quinn’s cock through his jeans. “What about now? Think I can be quiet like this?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “That’s—one way to do it,” he said hoarsely. He could not believe they were about to do this. He should put a stop to it.

He didn’t want to.

Peyton stepped up behind Jericho. He smoothly tugged Jericho’s hair tie out. The soft strands fell, framing his face. Quinn twined a lock around his finger. The brown had different shades to it, sun streaks giving it a fascinating uniqueness. Darker than Peyton’s dirty blond, which was still down from when Sebastian had unravelled it earlier.

“Is the door locked?” Quinn asked, voice low and husky. His eyes met Peyton’s dark-blue gaze.

Peyton licked his lips. “No.”

He should have told Peyton to go lock it. He didn’t. Instead, he slid his zipper down, pulling out his dick. Heat flared in Peyton’s gaze.

The entire situation was madness. Knowing that didn’t stop him from pulling Jericho forward or from groaning loudly—too loudly—when Jericho’s lips stretched to accommodate his girth.

Quinn wrapped Jericho’s hair around his palm. “You’re right,” he said huskily. “An excellent way to keep you quiet.” It just wasn’t a great way to keephimquiet.

Jericho grazed his teeth on Quinn’s sensitive skin at the same time he swirled his tongue. Quinn’s fingers tightened instinctively, hips bucking forward on a gasp.

Peyton palmed his cock through his jeans and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss against Quinn’s cheek. “How does he feel?”

“Hot,” Quinn groaned. “Wet. Like a glove around my dick.” He hit the back of Jericho’s throat and had to count backwards from ten to stop himself coming embarrassingly fast.

Peyton’s hand settled over Quinn’s, fingers tangling in Jericho’s hair. He pressed his nose to the top of Jericho’s head and breathed deeply. He moved down to latch onto the curve of Jericho’s neck. “Bet he tastes as good as you smell.”

Jericho lifted off Quinn’s cock, turning his head. He opened his mouth to say something—what, Quinn couldn’t even begin to guess—but Peyton got there first, covering his mouth hungrily. Quinn glided his free hand into Peyton’s hair, nails against his scalp, getting a feel of both men.

Peyton bent over Jericho to take Quinn into his mouth.

Quinn cursed and bit his lip to stop any more noises spilling out. He lifted Peyton’s hair away from his face so he could get a good look.

“What magic words do I have to find to get your dick in my ass?” Jericho asked, sliding his palm across Quinn’s knee. He hadn’t put contacts in that morning, his natural brown full of heat and promise. He understood why Jericho hid himself, why he became nothing but a ghost on the wind, but Quinn liked him best just like this: himself.

“There aren’t any. Kiss me,” Quinn said. He wasn’t going to give in that far. It was bad enough he was indulgingthisfar.

Jericho rose instantly, slanting his mouth across Quinn’s, tongue seeking entrance. Quinn got lost in the taste, and by the time he noticed that Jericho was undoing his shirt, it was already three quarters open, and a calloused palm caressed his chest,nails grazing his owl tattoo. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt, so Jericho had easy access.

Quinn caught Jericho’s hand, halting it. “No, we’re not—not going further than this.” He bit back another groan when Peyton curled his hand around the base of Quinn’s dick and renewed his efforts to drive Quinn insane, with vigour.

Fuck.

“You don’t want to push me against the wall and fuck me?” Jericho asked against his mouth. He shifted their joined hands to press against Jericho’s cock, tenting the front of his jeans. “I know what your fingers feel like. Now I want that gorgeous cock.”

“We can—you can—later, Jeri—”

Jericho swallowed the rest of his words. He undid his own pants, and then Quinn’s fingers were wrapped around hot, throbbing, hard silk.

Peyton gave Quinn’s mushroomed head one more hollowed-out suck and flick of his tongue and then stood, crowding against Quinn’s other side. Tag teaming him like this should be against the law.

Peyton kissed Quinn’s jaw and nipped at the underside. “I want to watch.”

Jericho licked his lips, a red flush across his cheeks. “Gonna fuck me with that gorgeous cock?”

Quinn used a move his instructor at the police academy would have been proud of and had Jericho bent over the desk in seconds, cheek pressed to the wood. “This what you want?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Here,” Peyton said, handing him a condom and a small tube of slick.

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