“Yes.”
“Blindfolds?”
“Yes.”
My cock throbbed between my legs, and when I reached down to give myself some relief, I found Hendrix’s dick just as hard, pointed toward me.
“Do you want me to touch your cock?” The outer ridges of my knuckles brushed against him.
“Yes.” That confirmation left him in a rush.
I smiled against his skin, kissing and licking my way down his jaw until I reached the corner of his mouth. “Do you like to be denied?”
He groaned, hips arching away from the pantry.
“Do you like being denied?” I asked again.
His groan turned into a whimper as he admitted the truth, “Yes.”
“God, you’re perfect,” I whispered, slanting our mouths together. His lips parted with ease, making way for me to explore the taste of his tongue and his teeth. Hendrix’s sighs and moans tasted like sugar and candy, like something I could get addicted to. He reached for me, fingers tapping against my waist like he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him to touch me without permission. Holy shit, did that turn me on.
Hendrix was a submissive and he hated it as much as he loved it. All of that quickly became clear as he pushed himself against me when I moved in to deepen the kiss. In my pants, my cock leaked, desperate for more attention than what I was giving it.
“24/7?” I asked, hoping the answer was no because I didn’t have it in me to make that kind of commitment to anyone, least all someone like him who deserved so much more than me.
“No.”
He must have tasted my relief in the kiss because he angled his head to the side and scooped his tongue into my mouth, kissing me back with the same ferocity I’d just shown him.
“You can touch me,” I whispered into his mouth and his fingers found purchase, digging into my hips and pulling our bodies flush. His cock burned hot through his pants, pulsing against my thigh in time with his heartbeat.
“Dating?” I asked next, hoping it was open-ended enough to get me an answer I could work with. I wasn’t asking Hendrix to be exclusive, because for as much as I wanted him, that still felt like too much.
He dragged his hands up the length of my sides, dancing over my ribs like he played piano, up higher until he reached my neck. He curled his fingers into the bottom of my hairline and shrugged his shoulders.
“Not exclusive,” I said. “Not serious. Not…yet.”
Hendrix whimpered, sliding his head side to side so our lips traced over each other. The move felt possessive and final in a way I couldn’t explain.
“Yes,” he said.
I could work with that.
I turned my hand around and reached into his pants, making a fist around his cock. His erection burned my palm, thick and hot, and I salivated just thinking of all the things I wanted to do with it.
“Jesus,” I muttered, pressing my thumb into the slick slit of his dick. “You’re hung.”
He laughed, head bumping against the pantry. “Yes.”
I twisted and squeezed until his amusement turned into desperation.
“Dirty talk?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Use more words,” I demanded, using my free hand to fumble my own cock out of my pants. I took both of our erections into my fist, giving a long upstroke that smashed the heads of our dicks together between my fingers. “What are your limits?”
“Humiliation.” Hendrix grunted, throat and cheeks darker than earlier. Sweat beaded against his temples and I licked it off his skin. “Bodily fluids besides cum. No metal handcuffs. No caning.”
