Allen nodded, his face blank. “Yes, it was thirteen years ago. But all that shit they put on the news was just a cover for the fact that I’d run away by my own choice. They couldn’t stand to admit, you see, that I would choose to run away rather than continue living with them, a rich, powerful family. They never looked for me, never tried to find me.”
He glanced at Sidri, his smile ironic. “Makes for a better news story, doesn’t it? The poor adopted child gets kidnapped by his birth parents, removed from a rich, loving family and taken back to Columbia where he would probably end up working for the drug cartels.” He sighed. “I stopped watching after the first story. It was too hard, listening to them claim they loved me and missed me, when they knew I was probably still in the city. They didn’t give a shit that I’d left. They only cared about how they could use the situation to further their religious and political agendas.”
Tatum rubbed Allen’s shoulder with his free hand, pressed a kiss below his ear. “Their loss, baby. We know how special you are. We love you no matter what.”
Allen smiled a small smile but said nothing. Sidri, her heart going out to him, caressed his cheek. “You said the story of your adoption was…what you were told,” she began carefully, gauging his response while being ready to drop the subject if he appeared to want it left alone. “What does that mean?”
Allen bit his lip, closed his eyes, and spoke. “Yes, that’s what I was told. The year before I ran away, I found out the truth. I found out why my mother always seemed to hate me, why my father treated me like a tool and not a son.”
He took a deep breath. “My mother’s name was Lupe Romano-Herrera. She was a Columbian native, living in Bogota. She met my father when he was visiting the country on one of his missionary trips, fell in love with him instantly. And my father, the rat bastard, decided it wouldn’t harm anyone if he tumbled the gorgeous sixteen-year-old, since no one from the States would ever know about it.”
Sidri sucked in a breath. “Oh my god,” she breathed, astonished. “So Robert Whitman…”
“Is my father in truth,” Allen confirmed, his voice flat. “He fucked my mother repeatedly over several months, the whole time he was away from his wife in a strange country where she would never know of his adultery. He kept her like a sex slave, confined to his hotel room while he preached, fucking her over and over again during the night. And when it came time for him to return to the U.S., he abandoned her without a second thought, without a backward glance.”
Allen shuddered, and Sidri and Tatum tightened their hold on him. God, he was so precious, so amazing, so sensitive and deep. That he could feel so much for his birth mother when it was also obvious he didn’t actually know her spoke volumes about the depth of his heart.
He sighed deeply and continued on. “My mother loved that asshole,” he said flatly. “When he abandoned her, she was devastated. It wasn’t until a month or so after he’d left that she discovered she was pregnant. She was young, barely sixteen, and she knew her parents would never let her live with them if she had a bastard child. So she got herself to Mexico, found some people who were willing to help her sneak across the border.
“She showed up at my father’s house one day, nine months pregnant and ready to pop.”
Allen fell silent, and they let him have his time to gather his thoughts. Sidri started tracing little lines on his chest, just touching him to feel his silky-soft skin. Tatum did the same, obviously enjoying Allen’s gorgeous body with his sensitive fingers. They waited for their lover to find his voice and tell them the rest, aching for him on so many levels.
Finally, Allen cleared his throat. “Marissa—Robert’s wife—answered the door. She took one look at my mother and knew exactly why she was there. She dragged my mother inside, slammed the door, and started yelling for my father to meet her in the study. There she confronted him about his adultery, using my mother’s obvious pregnancy as proof. He, of course, tried to deny it, but she was having none of it. She forced the both of them to do a paternity test to prove whose child it was. Obviously, it turned out she was right—I was Robert Whitman’s son.”
He shuddered. “Marissa was outraged. Not because he’d cheated on her—because the scandal, if it came out, would destroy the religious empire they were trying so hard to build. They needed me, Robert’s son, kept under their watch so no one could discover I was his bastard. And they needed my mother gone, without the possibility that she could go to the press and tell her story to the world. They had to silence both of us, permanently.
“So they came up with a plan. They waited until my mother went into labor then refused to take her to the hospital until she agreed to sign the paperwork that would allow them to adopt me. Once they had her legally bound to give me up, they took her to a gas station and called her a cab.” He laughed bitterly. “They didn’t want anyone to see the pregnant lady getting in the taxi in front of their five-million-dollar mansion, you see. When she was finally in the hospital giving birth, they showed up with their paperwork all nice and in order, innocent. They took me away from my mother the moment I was born. She never even got to hold me.”
“Oh, baby,” Tatum breathed as Sidri tightened her fingers around his hand and kissed his cheek gently.
Allen cleared his throat again then continued. “My mother was deported, after that,” he said in a dead voice. “My father called Immigration to report an illegal alien. She was sent back to Columbia, where her parents refused to let her come home. Last I heard, she was a prostitute in Bogota, trying to stay alive any way she could.”
“How do you know all that, baby?” Tatum asked gently. “How did you find out?”
Allen closed his eyes. “I found my birth certificate. I’d known I was adopted—I just hadn’t been told anything but the story my parents told to the press. I decided one day I would look and see if I could find my birth parents.” He paused, an ironic bark of laughter bursting from his throat.
“I had this vague idea that I would be happier there, with my birth parents, than I could ever be living in that hell hole. I never expected to find my mother’s name written next to Robert Whitman’s. Apparently, she’d defied my parents that much and had his name put as the father without them knowing. By the time they found out, it was already legal. They had a new one issued after I was adopted officially, making my last name Whitman. I don’t know why they kept the original. Maybe they had vague hopes of torturing me with the knowledge that my mother gave me up to my father of her own free will.”
Again that bitter laugh. “They needn’t have bothered. Living in that house was hell on earth for me. My brother and sisters treated me like the hired help, not a sibling. Marissa treated me like a bug smashed under her shoe. And my father treated me like an embarrassment, unless, of course, he needed to parade me in front of the TV cameras to prove he wasn’t a racist.”
“Is that why you ran away?” Sidri asked quietly. “You found out about your birth mother?”
Allen shook his head. “Not at first. I found out about that when I turned thirteen. I confronted Marissa, who told me the whole sordid story. She was also the one who told me my mother was now a whore—she’d looked my mother up, kept tabs on her in Columbia, just to make sure she could never come back to the U.S. and topple their house of cards of lies. She told me all that stuff gleefully. She wanted to hurt me.”
He paused, sighed. “She needn’t have tried so hard. I was already in hell. But I admit that the conversation I had with her about my birth mother is what set the wheels in motion, the impetus that got me thinking about running away. But I didn’t. Not for another year.
“It wasn’t until my teenage hormones started kicking in that I knew I had to leave.” He licked his lips again then met Sidri’s eyes. “My father believes that to be gay is to be evil, period. I grew up being spoon-fed things like that. So when I realized I was just as attracted to boys as I was to girls, I knew I had to get out of there. If I’d thought my life was a living hell before I
knew I was bisexual, I knew nothing could compare to what would happen to me if my father discovered it. I couldn’t live with that—but I also couldn’t stand up to him.
“So, I ran away in the middle of the night on my fourteenth birthday. I walked for twelve hours before I found a park with a bench. Then I sat there and stared at nothing for a long, long time. I kept wondering when they would find me, wondering what kind of punishment I was in for when they got me back home. But they never even looked. I saw the news report the next morning when I was in a Starbucks spending the last of my pocket money on a latte. They’d told the world I was kidnapped and taken back to Columbia so it wouldn’t seem strange when I never came back.”
His voice went quiet, shattered. “They weren’t sad to see me go. Only happy to use the opportunity.”
They held him in silence for a long while, offering all the comfort they could give, knowing it would never be enough. God, to grow up like that. Sidri had always known she and Tatum were lucky to have grown up with parents who loved them, who were well-adjusted and mostly normal. But Allen had grown up in a living hell, with parents who hated him, yet he had no idea why. She couldn’t even imagine living like that, day in, day out. Then to discover his adopted father was his father in truth, yet still claiming to have adopted him instead of fathered him…It was an insult of the highest degree. Claimed and yet not claimed.
After a time, Tatum asked, “Why ‘Allen’?”
Allen frowned, turned to look at the bigger man over his shoulder. “Why what?”
Tatum smiled. “Why choose the name ‘Allen’? You said your real name is Alexander. Why not Alex?”
For the first time, a soft smile graced Allen’s face. “When we were little, before the other kids knew I was adopted and not really part of the family, my siblings treated me like I was one of them. My youngest sister, Amber, had a lisp until she was six or seven. She couldn’t say ‘Alex’ or ‘Alexander’ without messing up the x. So, she called me ‘Allenander’ or ‘Allen’. It was so cute, I let her call me that for years. After a while, I started calling myself ‘Allen’ in my own head, because it made me think of that time when they accepted me. So when I knew I needed to hide, to change my name, I just went with that.”
Sidri grinned. “Allenander. That’s adorable.” She paused, kissed him gently. “At least you have a few good memories, right? It still makes you smile, thinking about that sweet little girl calling you ‘Allenander.’ Something you can hold onto that doesn’t have any negative connotations.”
Allen nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
She kissed him again, then pulled back to watch as Tatum cupped Allen’s chin and made him turn for his kiss as well. When he turned back to her, she smiled. “Thank you, baby.”
“For what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“For sharing your story with us,” Tatum rumbled softly. “For trusting us.”
“We’re here for you, Allen,” Sidri told him sincerely. “Now and forever, for as long as you want us to be part of your life. Your secrets—and your heart—are safe with us.”
Tears welled up in Allen’s gorgeous brown eyes, and he nodded. “Always,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t ever let me go.”
Chapter 21
The next morning, Allen woke to the most glorious feeling in the world, Tatum’s hard cock sliding into him.
Being fucked awake was becoming one of his favorite things on earth.
He closed his eyes, letting loose a low groan as he clamped both hands on Tatum’s forearm, which was wrapped around his upper torso like a python. They both lay on their sides, Tatum behind him spooned close. Sidri lay on the far side of the bed, still asleep.
“Hush,” Tatum warned him mildly as that hot shaft started gliding in and out of Allen’s chute in long, slow strokes. “Sidri is still asleep, and she needs her rest. Now be quiet while I fuck you until I come.”
Allen shuddered, fucking loving the way Tatum talked dirty like that. No mention of Allen’s need to come, because it was a given that he would blow no matter what Tatum did. He was making it clear that Allen’s body was his to use, to fuck, for as long as he needed to attain his own pleasure.
He bit back another groan as Tatum took him deep, feeling every inch of that glorious cock as it slid into him. He’d been fucked so many times over the last two weeks, it no longer took much prep to make him ready. His body practically begged for it, opening to Tatum’s penetration with a roar of pure bliss. He shuddered through the pleasure vibrating throughout his body, buried his face in the crook of Tatum’s elbow, and gave himself over to Tatum’s expert care.
This was their last morning at the lake house. In a few hours, they would make their way back to the real world. Allen prayed his lovers would still be the same, even when they had to be in work mode and hide their attraction around other people. His biggest fear right now was one of them telling him the vacation had been fun, but it wasn’t worth continuing now that they had to go back to their real lives.
He loved them both so much, he was afraid he’d shatter if they abandoned him now.
Allen let loose a guttural cry as Tatum began fucking him harder, faster. His fingers dug into the big man’s arm as he held on, caught between clamping his teeth together to prevent more sounds from escaping and having his mouth open so he could suck in more air. God, it felt so good, that incredible cock sliding into him over and over again, nailing his prostate with every inward thrust.
If someone asked him two weeks ago if he’d ever consider letting himself get fucked up the ass, he would have told that person they were insane. Now, after having experienced Tatum’s possession, the way he used that powerful body of his to own every inch of Allen’s body, he knew he would never be able to live without this again. There was something so freeing about being the one getting fucked. He could let go of everything, simply float in a sea of endless pleasure while his lover brought him to orgasm. And when Sidri joined the party…
Being fucked from both sides, being the center of attention, being the sole focus of two extremely Dominant personalities…there was literally nothing that could compare.
Tatum clamped one huge hand around Allen’s hip and shoved his body over so that he lay half on his stomach, with his legs spread and forming the number four. Then the big man straddled Allen’s outstretched leg, tucking one knee under Allen’s bent one, and cinched both hands around his waist. He paused for a second to let Allen catch his bearings, to grab ahold of a pillow and bite down, hard, to keep from screaming his pleasure to the rafters. Then, without so much as a preparatory thrust, Tatum started fucking him hard, fast, and relentlessly.
Allen tried to stay quiet. He really did. But even with the pillow clamped between his teeth, he couldn’t muffle his grunts of ecstasy, couldn’t hide the moans that were yanked out of his throat every time Tatum’s pelvic bone hit his ass with a loud smack. Fuck, Tatum was so deep inside him, riding him so hard, sending gigantic spirals of intense pleasure through Allen’s whole body. He lost control of his vocal chords entirely, moaning and grunting, nearly shouting his pleasure for the world to hear.
No way could Sidri sleep through that. Allen felt her shift, felt her kneel next to Tatum as she murmured something Allen couldn’t hear over the buzzing under his skin. Tatum laughed, the sound vibrating through his cock into Allen’s ass. Then the big man reached down and took hold of Allen’s shoulders, pressing his chest against Allen’s back, and flipped them both over.
Allen, reeling, couldn’t catch his bearings at first. Then he realized that Tatum was now on his back, with Allen on top of him, his cock still buried balls-deep in his pulsing, quivering chute. And now Allen’s cock, which had been caught between him and the mattress, was free of encumbrance and reaching for the ceiling. Sidri stood up on the bed, straddled Allen’s belly, and lowered herself onto his aching cock with a single, sinuous move.
Allen shouted incoherently, his hands flying up to wrap around Si
dri’s waist. Christ, they were doing what they’d described in their fantasy. Sidri kept her feet planted flat on the mattress, and with Tatum’s hands wrapped firmly around her ankles to give her leverage, she could lift herself straight up and let gravity drive her downward. The impact of her full weight as she slammed into Allen’s body drove him down onto Tatum’s cock repeatedly, forcing Tatum’s shaft to pound his sweet spot over and over.
The wild ride lasted forever, yet not nearly long enough. Allen threw back his head and screamed as his orgasm exploded, his whole body going rigid as waves of overwhelming bliss blasted through him. Sidri drove herself downward, ground her clit against Allen’s pelvic bone as her pussy pulsed with her orgasm. A second later, Allen felt Tatum’s enormous erection pulse inside him, bathing his insides with burning-hot jets of cum. The three of them lay together, shaking and breathing hard, for a long time afterward.
Perfection.
Allen was still buzzing from the force of that orgasm several hours later as he climbed into Tatum’s ‘69 Camaro SS Coupe. Since he’d ridden up here with Sidri, Tatum had asked to drive him back so they could spend a little more time together. Allen tried to hide a blush, overwhelmed that the big man would value his company so much. Sidri had just smiled, giving Allen a short wave as she drove off in her classic Datsun Roadster, saying she would meet them at the house that evening.
He was still reeling about that part, too. An hour ago, Sidri and Tatum had sat him down in the living room—and begged him to move in with them.
“We don’t want to be apart from you,” Sidri had said quietly, her green eyes sincere and earnest. “Please, baby. Move in with us. Let us love you every night.”
“You’re it for us,” Tatum had assured him, his blue eyes sparkling. “You’re ours, Allen. Having you sleep somewhere else…Well, let’s just say we’d have a really hard time with that. Please, come home with us. Come home.”
Demons Within [For Love of Authority] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 23
