Page 75 of Brushed and Buried
“He’s mine,” I say, my voice quiet and razor-sharp. “Every fucking part of him.” I meet his eyes, asking if he’s alright with this. Adrian doesn’t back down.
His breath catches, but the smile that ghosts across his lips is wicked. “I want this,” he says, voice low and husky. “All of it.”
I stroke my thumb along his jaw, steady. “You’re sure?”
His gaze locks on mine. “I trust you.”
That’s all I need.
“Here’s the thing,” I say a little louder, dragging my fingers on his neck, feeling the fine tremble in his throat. “It turns out watching my man fall apart with you guys is my fucking kink.”
The boys stare at me like I’ve just turned their world sideways. Silence hangs heavy, their faces caught between disbelief and awe.
My voice drops, rougher now. “That first night at the bachelor party…just watching him was enough to undo me. Every hand on him, every sound he made, every shiver…I couldn’t move. I could only watch. By the end, I gave in, as I couldn’t keep my hands off him, off his ass. But I still left aching, his voice echoing in me long after.”
My hand skims down Adrian’s chest, possessive and reverent. With his back against me, he arches into my touch like a man on a live wire, like I am the current.
“But he looked at me the whole time,” I say. “It rewired something in me. The way he gave himself, the way he wanted to be watched. I couldn’t stop imagining him getting fucked by me and my friends, his mouth filthy, still begging for me. For more.”
Trevor makes a strained sound, and Lance adjusts himself without bothering to be subtle.
“I realized then,” I continue, “that if he wants it, I don’t have to be the only one touching him. Not if I own him, not if I’m the one who puts him back together after he’s been pushed too far.”
Adrian exhales, head tipping back against my thigh like he can’t hold himself up anymore. He looks at them, dazed and hungry, undone. “If you want to touch me, you can,” he says, voice gravelly but unwavering. “But he’s the one I answer to.”
Trevor looks like his head might explode. Lance swears softly, almost reverent. George doesn’t move, waiting for explicit permission.
I meet Adrian’s eyes, then look at my friends. “You heard him. His body’s mine, but he’s letting you in. You respect that, or it ends.”
There’s a ripple of nods, serious and tight, an acknowledgment of terms. No one speaks as the meaning lands. This is not just sex. They are not just guests. They are part of a show built on possession, trust, and heat. My control and Adrian’s surrender.
And none of them look away. Because the invitation might come with rules, but the reward is undeniable. It is getting to touch something sacred, and ruin it just enough in the name of pleasure.
Adrian licks his lips slowly. “If he wants to watch while you do me, if he wants to see me beg and cry and fall apart in front of all of you to make him harder, I will do it. I’ll make it filthy. I’ll make it unforgettable.”
I press my palm to the bulge in his jeans, feeling heat pulse beneath my hand. Adrian moans, breath hitching, his thighs tightening.
“You feel that?” I ask the room without tearing my eyes from him. “I’m sure he’s already leaking, aching, and I haven’t even taken his pants off yet.”
I feel like the boys are ready to pounce anytime now.
“Let me be clear about one thing.”
Everyone falls still.
“I’ll be the first one in him tonight.” I hook my fingers on Adrian’s waistband. “And I’ll be the last. You can fuck him, use him, however you like. But when it’s over? Hefinisheswith me.”
Then I yank his jeans down in one swift, punishing pull. Button pops. Zipper scrapes. He’s got nothing below the hips, just gray boxer-briefs clinging to him, soaked at the tip, the shape of his cock obscene against the thin stretch of fabric. I grab the hem of his shirt and rip it over his head in one motion, sleeves catching on his arms. The white fabric hits the floor, leaving his chest bare, every curve and line on display, every shiver visible in the dim light.
Trevor groans. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Lance looks down, eyes half-lidded. “He is going to ruin me.”
George says nothing, but the hunger in his stare says everything.
Adrian stands there, flushed and leaking, his cock twitching against the fabric as if it begs to be freed. He does not cover himself. He does not shrink. He offers.
I press against him again, harder this time. “You want to see?”
