We Have Till Monday

by Cara Dee

  Jesus Christ.

  I didn’t say a word as he sat down at the foot of my lounger, parted my legs, and unfastened the towel. Then he leaned over me and sucked my cock into his mouth, to which I drew an unsteady breath and slipped my fingers into his hair.

  “What, uh—what about Camden?” I pulled up a knee too, in case he wanted more access. “I don’t want him to hide in his room like last Friday.”

  “I won’t have to.” It was Camden who answered, and he was watching his Daddy suck on me. “I have to rejoin the boring grown-up world so I can go to the festival anyway.”

  August hummed around me, getting me hard in no time.

  “That’s not how you nurse, Daddy.” Camden scrunched his nose.

  I cursed under my breath as August tightened his lips around me and sucked me harder.

  Before long, he was bringing me to the edge and pulling me back. Over and over until I was desperate. I groaned and threw back my head, unable to stop from thrusting into his mouth. But he kept a firm hand on my hip that prevented me from moving too much.

  Glancing over at Camden, I saw he was still watching us. He was getting hard in his underwear too, and I ached to touch him. For over three days, he’d abstained from sex, though that didn’t mean he hadn’t been around to turn us on with his innocence. He was a cuddly boy and had those curious fingers of his. He liked to watch us. He liked to ask questions about our grown-up games. He loved to put his head in his Daddy’s lap and nurse from his cock.

  “Camden, can you come here and give me a kiss?” I asked huskily.

  He smiled and instantly put away his game. “Always.” He crawled up as high as possible on my lounger, pulling his knees to his chest, and leaned over me. “Do you like it when Daddy does that?”

  I nodded and cupped his cheek. “Kiss me.”

  He inched closer and pecked me softly, and it was followed by that shy grin that I found irresistible.

  I’d asked August before how Camden came out of his regressive periods. The main part was an active mental adjustment that the boy took charge of himself. He basically stepped out gradually in his mind, and August’s task was to make the transition as easy as he could—as well as to lure out Camden’s sexual appetite again. The latter was something I was highly interested in right now.

  The next time he gave me a sweet little kiss, I moved my hand to the back of his neck and held him there.

  “Perfect little boy.” I kissed him gently, warmly, and slowly.

  Camden broke away with a blush and shallow breaths when August swallowed around my cock, and I couldn’t stop the groan from slipping out. It felt too good, and the pleasure exploded inside me.

  “What’s happening?” the boy asked anxiously.

  “I’m coming,” I panted. “Fuck, August… Just like that—now.”

  The orgasm ripped down my spine, and I started coming down August’s throat.

  For the rest of that day, our focus shifted more and more to Camden. He pouted when August stowed away the stuffies that were strewn around the ranch and returned them to the boy’s room. The stuffed animals worked like an anchor, August clarified to me. They made it easier for Camden to tell Little-time apart from the rest of their everyday life.

  I felt bad for Camden at first, but August was a pro. He’d done this for years and knew exactly which buttons to push and when. And to lift Camden’s spirits, August opened up the pool house in the late afternoon to reveal a Jacuzzi.

  I’d expected a minor storage area for pool cleaning supplies, but I was wrong. The hot tub sat at the center of the little house. The back wall was made up of glass and offered a view of slanted hills leading to a small pond. A shower was in one corner, two chairs and a table in another, and an entertainment unit next to it. Stereo, minibar, shelves with towels, speakers…

  I needed to win the damn lottery.

  “Water should be warm enough by now.” August walked past me and removed the cover from the pool, then dipped his hand into the water. “It’s perfect.”

  While Camden got undressed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, August explained that he’d prepared everything this morning. Evidently, they had their routine.

  Camden grinned goofily and set his water in one of the cupholders along the edge of the tub. “I love to sit here with Daddy and talk about the future and stuff. It makes me excited to be grown up again and set goals, things like that.”

  That was sweet.

  “Come on, hurry up!” Camden didn’t waste a second. As soon as he’d dropped his clothes on the floor, he slipped into the water and let out a sigh of contentment. “Daddy, can you turn on the jets?”

  “Camden, can you learn to hang your clothes over a chair?” August retorted, picking up the boy’s discarded clothes.

  “Oops.” Camden giggled behind his hands.

  I smiled and got rid of my tee and jeans, making sure not to put them on the floor, before I climbed into the tub too.

  Sweet mother of… “Fuck, that feels good,” I groaned.

  As the hot water began loosening up whatever tension I didn’t know I’d had in my shoulders, Camden made his way over to me and positioned himself sideways across my lap.

  “Hi.” He grinned and poked my nose.

  “Hey, you.” I caught his wrist and kissed his fingertips. “Have you checked your social media yet?”

  “No, I don’t wanna.” He reached for his water and opened the bottle. “Why are you reminding me?”

  Well, because I was happy his latest cooking tutorial had received such positive feedback. But I’d discovered that Clara ran those things for both of them, though Camden was better at interacting when he wasn’t off work. Apparently, they produced more than one video in advance, so the guys didn’t have to come up with something every week. Mildly disappointing—I would’ve liked to watch from behind the scenes as a video was made.

  “Because I left a couple comments earlier,” I replied.

  He licked a drop of water from the corner of his mouth and eyed me. “Now I wanna see it, but I gotta wade through hundreds of comments.”

  “I didn’t leave both comments on the same account.” I smirked a little.

  We’d taken a short siesta earlier, and I’d woken up first. With not much to do, I’d perused Camden and August’s NSFW pictures, seeing them in a new light after spending this week with them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir.” Camden cranked up the innocence, all while he was trying to send me a special look. One that told me to shut it, because he still hadn’t told August about following me through that account. And liking all my photos.

  I wasn’t as inclined to keep that secret anymore.

  “Why do you look guilty, little one?” August asked as he sank into the water across from us.

  “I don’t!” Camden insisted. “I’m not keeping anything from you!”

  I rubbed his leg.

  August smiled wryly and raised a brow at me. “So he’s keepin’ somethin’ from me.”

  “Mm.” I inclined my head. “I reckon the grown-ups need to show a united front. Otherwise, sneaky little boys might play a few tricks and get away with it.”

  Camden gasped and eyed me as if I’d just committed treason.

  “Wise words,” August agreed solemnly. “So what’s he done?”

  I slid my gaze to a scowling Camden. “Do you wanna tell Daddy, or should I?”

  He kept scowling at me for a moment, and I stared right back, undeterred. I loved the push and pull of their dynamic, but this young man wasn’t going to start thinking he could boss me around. Where kink was concerned, I followed August.

  In the end, Camden huffed and folded his arms over his chest, petulance written all over his cute face. “Maybe I followed Anthony’s account under our dirty profile before he came down to Nashville.”

  “Oh, really.” August composed his expression and stretched out his arms along the edge of the tub. “That’s interestin’ since I recall
telling you not to reach out to Anthony on your own. We were going to let Clara handle it.”

  “I didn’t contact him!” Camden argued. “I just followed him!”

  “And liked nearly three hundred photos,” I added.

  “And liked—grrr!” he growled.

  I laughed. “And you commented. You said I was hot.”

  At this point, Camden was flushed with adorable anger, and August was struggling to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I gave you a compliment,” Camden snarked.

  I grinned.

  “That’s not the point, darlin’,” August said. “You went against my word.”

  “But, ohhhhh!” Camden turned to whining instead. “I just wanted him to see us, Daddy. I wanted him to wonder if it was you and me.”

  I hadn’t. The photos were concealed too well—even now. I wouldn’t be able to tell it was them after having shared August’s bed either. I’d already tried. It was one thing. Camden’s snake tattoo.

  If Camden hadn’t been so revved up and busy defending himself, he would’ve seen that August looked anything but stern. The man couldn’t hide the affection and humor from his eyes.

  Then he quit the act entirely and let out a chuckle. “You can stop pitchin’ a fit, boy. You’re not as slick as you think.”

  Oh. He’d already known?

  Camden deflated and asked my question. “You knew?”

  “I’ve known you’re up to somethin’, not the specifics,” August amended. “I don’t think this is the extent of it either. You’re hidin’ somethin’ else too.”

  That was funny. Of course Daddy would sense that his boy was scheming.

  “I am slick,” Camden grumbled to himself. “I’m an evil genius.”

  “Of course you are, baby.” I humored him and rubbed his leg a little higher up.

  I didn’t think I could get off anytime soon, considering everything we’d already done today, but the boy was too enticing. I loved touching him.

  In all honesty, I just wanted to finger him a bit. Like any normal person.

  Chapter 13

  The Outsiders

  I loved the pre-chorus in this song. Glancing back at Sylvia, I smiled at her light tinkering on the piano while I sang. Then I raised my voice, and Luiz kicked it up for the chorus.

  “Hey, big brother.” Nicky spoke into the mic during an instrumental part I wasn’t playing in.

  “Aye, bambino.”

  He flashed me a smirk and tossed me something—shit, my harmonica.

  “Show ’em how it’s done,” he said, trapping his strings under a finger and distorting the sound. Good thing I was great at improvising. I threw myself into the last chorus while he slapped on the muted strings, and then I stopped providing rhythm and lifted my harmonica to the mic.

  Maria and Matt had no problems lifting the choir and singing louder, and it gave me a moment to play the harmonica next to Nicky’s banjo.

  We only had a few songs left, and I understood what my brother was doing. We were having the time of our life, and some things, we didn’t want to end.

  “Let the knife do the work, sweetheart. No need to push the blade through the meat.”

  Right. I was being impatient because I was starving. It was also mildly unnerving to stand on the other side of the kitchen island, across from him, and hear his knife make those incessant little chops at a pace not even a woodpecker could match. In this alternate universe, he’d decided to put me in charge of the meat while he made the salad.

  So I guessed we were having salad for dinner.

  I bobbed my head to the beat of the music and carefully sliced through the meat, wondering why he didn’t just buy the meat as steaks ready to throw on the grill.

  “I feared you’d grown up with Conway Twitty or something like that,” I said. Instead, he’d grown up listening to Queen—which was playing on the stereo right now—Bowie, Pink Floyd, and Deep Purple.

  August laughed and gathered the chopped onions into a bowl. “You have some interestin’ thoughts on Southerners.”

  “The curse of never having traveled much.” I added the steaks to a plate. “My world is made up of stereotypes. Hell, I grew up around stereotypes.”

  He tilted his head, curious. “A grandmother and a father raising two homosexual brothers doesn’t sound like the most stereotypical upbringin’.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe not that part.” I picked up the cutting board and carried it over to the sink. “Still. Brooklyn isn’t just my home—it’s my world. Or it was for a very long time. As a kid, I rarely left our hood. We had everything there. From the kids shooting the shit on the stoop to grumpy men playing chess on the sidewalk and talkin’ about the old country.” Which they’d never left in the first place. But since we’d lived in a Latin neighborhood, the Italians clung harder to old traditions, and suddenly everyone with roots in Italy missed the old country as if they’d been born and raised there before being welcomed to America on Ellis Island. “My family and everyone I grew up around were a few decades behind the rest of the world. The Brooklyn I knew when I was a kid changed a fuckload by the time Nicky was the same age.”

  August nodded. “I think that goes for many places. My sister Tilda lived in New York a while before she moved to Chicago, and the first time we went up to visit her, our mother thought Brooklyn was a mafia stronghold like it was during the Murder, Inc. era.”

  I grinned a little. “When was this?”

  He squinted in thought. “I’d say…’77? ’78, maybe?”

  A far cry from the thirties, but we’d still had some shit going down back then. I remembered when Castellano was gunned down in ’85. Mostly, I remembered Nonna swearing up a storm about it.

  “I suppose I grew up in the remnants of it,” I replied. “It was drilled into my head that I wasn’t allowed to visit certain clubs and restaurants. Pop could suggest a joint for Friday night dinner, and Nonna would go, ‘No, no, can’t go there, the—whatever pazzi—runs that place.’ But other than that, it was minor shit. Similar to what we see in all bigger cities today.”

  August’s eyes flashed with amusement. “I do like it when you use slang.”

  I wiped my hands on a towel and furrowed my brow. Had I used slang?

  “Pazzi,” he said.

  Oh. “It’s what Nonna calls everyone who’s either batshit crazy or lives on the wrong side of the law—”

  “Daddy!” Camden yelled from upstairs. “Are you busy?”

  Today was not the day he learned not to yell either.

  I smirked at August’s sigh, and then he hollered back, saying if Camden had something on his mind, he had to come down here.

  The boy stomped quickly down the stairs and ran toward us with nervous excitement written all over him.

  “I have gifts for you!” He hurriedly left two little packets on the kitchen island before he spun around and made another run for it. “See you at dinner—I’m too shy to see your reactions!”

  “Baby!” August called. “Aren’t you supposed to clean your room?”

  “That’s the thanks I get,” Camden huffed, already out of sight. “Just call me when dinner is ready!”

  Hurricane Camden was something else.

  Why wouldn’t he wanna see our reactions? Had the evil genius pulled a prank on us?

  I leaned over the island and snatched up the two packets, and I couldn’t help but grin. He’d wrapped the gifts in Christmas paper. One said Daddy; the other had my name.

  “Here.” I handed him his.

  Under the Christmas wrapping was a regular envelope dotted with not entirely dried glitter glue. When I opened it, a familiar-looking bracelet fell out on the countertop, as did a piece of paper. I unfolded it and read the note.

  You’re one too.

  And I think you’re so amazing and hot and kind and funny.

  You made me change my plan.

  Love, Camden

  I couldn’t really muster a smile for the adoration I felt swee
ping through me. It was the same heaviness I’d felt earlier. For each second I spent with August and Camden, it became increasingly difficult to explain away this vacation as a “bit of casual fun.” Nothing was casual anymore, and the attachment I’d formed for them was anything but fleeting or shallow.

  “That sweet boy,” I heard August murmur.

  He stood slightly behind me and inspected his own gift. It was another beaded bracelet.

  I picked mine up off the counter and read the… My forehead creased. “He must’ve given me yours by mistake, ciccio.”

  “Hmm?” He glanced up from his bracelet, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “It says Daddy on this one.” I showed it to him.

  He frowned and peered closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. Then he let out a breath and tilted his head to rest his forehead against my neck.

  “That’s not a mistake.”

  But it— Before I could finish my thought, he held up his bracelet, and in the same multicolored beads, it said Daddy.

  You’re one too.

  I swallowed hard.

  He couldn’t mean…

  August inched away again and leaned back against the other counter, his hands gripping the edge of the surface, and he hung his head.

  Fuck. This was too much. For me, for him—I wasn’t sure. No, I was. It was too much for August. While my heart slammed into my rib cage, my feelings growing and cementing quicker than I was ready for, I felt a sense of dread too. Camden couldn’t view me as a Daddy. It was wrong. It was sweet fucking agony. It was August’s domain. I was the guest.

  I couldn’t apologize, though. I had nothing to apologize for. And I wanted to keep this memory. Even though it wasn’t mine to hold onto, I was ready to defend it. To steal it away. Camden made me this little bracelet. It was for me. August couldn’t take that away from me.