No matter what, in this, they’d be together. At the end of the day, they would come home to each other.
“More,” Devon chanted until Neil lunged forward, forcing James’s hard-on to drill into her. He writhed between his lovers, alternating between sinking into Devon and impaling himself on Neil’s cock. Either way he went made his heart kick in his chest. Bliss exploded through his system.
When he had burrowed inside Devon as deep as he could get, Neil helped him out, pounding into James so that his pelvis tapped her clit repeatedly. The walls of her pussy hugged him so tight it took every bit of effort he could muster to shuttle in and out of her as Neil did the same to him.
It would have been impossible to last very long with such intense sensations bombarding him. Fortunately, it seemed his spouses were equally eager to fall off the cliff of desire they were rushing toward.
Before biting James’s shoulder, Neil growled, “How close are you?”
“Very,” Devon responded before James could so much as shudder in their arms. “Like…very.”
And that was all it took.
James figured they wouldn’t mind an excuse to let go when he toppled into ecstasy first. He poured his release into Devon and his ass wrung Neil’s cock in time to the jets he pumped into their wife. Devon shouted and clamped around him in rhythmic pulses that milked every drop of come from his balls while his ass did the same to Neil.
Neil slammed into James then held deep, his hips twitching forward, grinding against James’s ass while he flooded him. It never ceased to amaze James that he could invoke that sort of reaction from these two people who were the strongest humans he knew. He could turn them into quivering, panting messes like himself.
In the best possible way.
James sagged, melting over Devon, who hugged him tight as Neil carefully retreated and cleaned them off before nestling beside them. He caressed James’s back and kissed Devon gently if thoroughly before wrapping his arms around them both. Cuddled together, James realized his spouses had been—as usual—right.
He might not have everything in his life mapped out, but he sure as hell had this part perfect. With a foundation this rock solid, the rest wouldn’t be so hard to build.
5
It had taken James less than a week to finish off his disastrous trial-foreman project. The build itself had turned out fine. In fact, a friend of his client had begged him—including offering a generous bonus—to take on another similar job. James had declined, referring the business to the main Powertools firm. With that, he’d hung up his hardhat and tool belt for good. It felt weird, but also kind of freeing.
While Devon and Neil were off doing their thing each day, he focused on making their lives—and those of the rest of the Powertools—outside of work effortless so they could spend quality time together.
Tracking nine adults, four kids, a puppy, and all their related appointments, client meetings, birthdays, anniversaries, school activities, and who knew what else, was practically a full-time job. Or would be for someone less skilled at organization than he tended to be.
He cracked open his infamous planner, thumbing past first his monthly overview, then his weekly calendar—featuring color-coded task categories and, yes, cute but functional stickers—past the daily pages broken out by hour for each of the crew members, and the tabs for his meal planning sections, until he arrived at his outstanding to do list.
James trailed his finger down the scratched off items he’d already accomplished this week. Finalize the sale of their old apartment. Check. Arrange movers for the non-critical crap they’d left in storage. Check. Set up new personal and business bank accounts in Middletown. Check. Manage the payroll and bill pay functions for Powertools as well as his, Devon, and Neil’s obligations. Check. Research medical practices, general practitioners, and specialists—like an OB-GYN for Kate and a fear-free dentist for Mike—who accepted their insurance, now that he’d set up their policy and gotten everyone updated cards the week before. Check.
He also made notes to follow up with each person, get their final input on who they selected from his suggestions, and to start scheduling the appointments they needed. He would enter those in his trusty planner for the coming weeks. Then he’d automate a slate of text reminders to keep them from missing any of the visits he’d set up. No problemo.
Wrangling a group, even one as large and diverse as the crew, was a form of therapy for James. Taking their chaos, which could easily turn into anarchy, and tucking it into neat boxes satisfied his need for order.
Though he was efficient as fuck, it took even a planning master like James two solid weeks of commotion taming and a few days to recover before he was completely bored off his ass.
After passing all of the things he’d already accomplished, he came to the single, leftover task at the very bottom. Have the Hot Rods look at the tiny, insignificant scratches on your car.
Ugh. At least it would shut Neil up. He’d been nagging James about the ding since the moment he’d noticed the damage, acting like the whole wheel was about to pop off like the head of a dandelion in summer and lead to James’s early demise.
Of course it was nice that Neil cared, but James unleashed an exasperated sigh as he pulled his car up in front of one of the open bays at Hot Rods. It felt like both a waste of time and one more reason he didn’t need for people to look at him like he was less capable or less masculine than the rest of the crew. It had only taken an instant of inattention. That didn’t mean he couldn’t drive well or that he should have bought some big, stupid vehicle.
James was dragging himself from the car with a significant pout when one of the mechanics, who also happened to be good friends with the Powertools crew, came out to greet him.
“Hey! Glad you finally decided to take us up on our offer.” Bryce clapped James on the back, nearly knocking him over with his mammoth paw.
“Oof. Neil and Devon made me. They said it’s unsafe to be driving around like this.” James rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you have time to look at it? I mean, it’s probably nothing. Right?”
Bryce took a peek at the wheel, then cocked his head. “Uh, no. I’d call that a definite something. We might have to have Hot Rides fabricate a replacement for that mangled metal near the center of the rim where it attaches to the axel, but we can at least set you up with a temporary solution that will keep you from getting a flat or having your wheel fall off on the highway. Trust me, nasty car accidents are no joke.” The big guy winced as he rubbed his thigh, and James instantly felt like an ass. Here he was worried about his damn pride when Bryce would probably give a hell of a lot to rewind and avoid his own near-fatal crash. “If you don’t mind hanging out a bit and waiting, one of us will squeeze you in between appointments. It’s going to be fun working on your ride. It almost seems like a toy compared to most of the cars we work on. It’s so cute!”
Well, shit. James really didn’t need his spouses to be any more worried about him than they already were at the moment. Or for something awful to happen so they could say I told you so. Or worse, if his recklessness caused them to take time and attention away from their work to look after him when he’d already left them a man down. Damn it.