Raking my fingers ever so softly over his long lats to his underarms, I watched him squirm, delighted as he fought to hold the position I demanded. A laugh burst forth, the pure kind that only someone like him can laugh.
How he should be laughing all the time.
I felt like I won something.
“Fucking tickles, asshole.”
“Do you think that’s good behavior? Calling me asshole?”
He lifted his chin, and his expression said he definitely knew it was not. It also said,what are you gonna do about it?
“Don’t be cheeky, young man.” I had to kiss him again.Why this one? Why now?That thought played over and over.
I never came up with an answer, but I was going to fuck him with my cock until those thoughts were dead, to drive him from my system. How dare karma fuck with my life like this?
The responding shiver was what I was looking for.On the right track, Meyer.
I nibbled down his neck where I planned to mark him. His cock was crying cum tears because of me, what a beautiful sight. Licking them off got me a sinful hiss, one that should be illegal. I leaned over to reach for the lube and a condom from the top drawer of my bedside table, tossing them on the bed for easy access.
Then I climbed between his legs, spreading them, bending one back toward his ear, and ran fingers along his crease. He moaned and bit that damn lip of his for the seventy-sixth time, and I had no choice but to cut the foreplay short to shove my cock into him.
I took stock of him laid out on my bed, ready to feast on, before I knelt between his thick thighs again.
I dumped cold lube all over his cock and balls, rubbing down his crease and dipping my fingers inside. I had him split wide—legs scissored open—as I corkscrewed my fingers in and out, relaxing his hole to take my cock. He was a good boy, keeping his arms where I told him, but couldn’t keep from arching his low back off the bed.
I slapped his ass.Hard.“Hold fucking still.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Mercy.”
I should have penalized him for that. Isn’t that what the really kinky people do? I couldn’t though. I was too proud of myself for driving him crazy. Bet he thought I couldn’t get him to crack under pressure.
My hand wrapped around his dick, and I stroked him as he watched, breathing hard. It throbbed in my hand as he did his best to restrain himself, which was only making him hornier. “Please let me move, Mercy.” Jack’s voice was hoarse and laced with gorgeous sexual frustration.
His breath quickened. He closed his pretty green eyes. God was he pretty for a guy his size. Jack’s a fucking fairytale Princess with his doe eyes and golden hair. His leather jacket on the floor of my living room flashed across my mind … Fairytale Princess in leather then.
I stroked him faster, just to make a point and let him know that, no, he can’t fucking move. “Not until I tell you to, buttercup.”
I wanted to rev him up so that when I did finally release him, he’d be wild. Unrecognizable as the cool cucumber I met at the pub.
He whined and moaned, each stroke bringing him just a little closer to the animal I was carving out of pretty-boy clay. Over and over, I brought him to the edge, he dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palms.
Enough waiting. It was time to have him.
I sheathed my dick in a condom, rolling back the foreskin like it was a candy wrapper, the large vein along the front pulsed. He stared, mouth watering at the sight of my spectacular appendage. I’m a well-hung lad. I’m not just long, but thick too. “You’re going to take it all, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, eyelids fluttering.
Planting a hand flat to his chest, I trapped him between my palm and the mattress. With agile hips, I used my cock to find his hole. It was a slow process. A frustrating one for him. I got to enjoy the exasperated expressions flitting across his face as he wrestled with the conflict of being a good boy or complaining.
He did a delicious combination of both, whining miserably, but refraining from outright protesting.
“Good boy,” I cooed as my cock slipped along his lube-slicked hole.
A delightful shiver of humiliation worked its way up his spine and out through his mouth as a moan. Then a slow smile spread, reaching his green eyes where it morphed into pure mischief.
“I want it to go in,” he said. He pouted. It was a sinfully perfect pout.
A jolt of fire burned through me, incinerating every cell of my body until I was sure I’d turned to dust and was blowing off in the wind somewhere.
