“Friday, we’re supposed to meet up with Andrew,” I said. “But afterward, however Cahuenga Pass goes, I want to take you out.”
“I don’t des?—”
“Silas, stop,” I warned.
He groaned, throwing his head back and staring up at the ceiling. I leaned against the arm of the couch and studied him carefully, trying to make sure I didn’t misread the situation.
“What is it?” I asked him slowly. “And don’t lie.”
He huffed, the callout clearly weighing heavier on him that he wanted to admit. I had no qualms about that. He could do with a reminder about who we were to each other and what I expected of him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. First to the ceiling, then to me. He went to his knees, forced his way between my spread legs, and grabbed my thighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I want to,” I said, tracing my thumb across his lower lip. “Because forgiveness is my prerogative.”
“I don’t des?—”
I cut him off again, “You’re not in charge. What you deserve is not for you to decide.”
“I want to make it up to you,” he said next.
“There’s nothing to make up, and if you don’t stop, you’ll find yourself over the sink again with ten more bruises to match the ones I just gave you.”
I could see the argument in his face, and then I watched the fight go out of him.
“Is this settled?” I asked.
“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.
“Can we celebrate now?”
Silas glanced up at me from beneath the fan of his dark lashes, expression half-coy and half-disbelieving.
“Did you still want…”
“I always want,” I assured him. “And right now I want you to suck my cock until I get tired of your throat and want to move on to your ass.”
“Sir.”
His fingers slid up my legs, freeing my half-hard cock from my fly with relative ease. He sank down and took me into his mouth like getting me erect would be his penance, and I was content to let him chase his own forgiveness between my legs.
Silas went to work on me with a ferocious strength, spit pooling on my balls as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked me toward the edge. I slowly worked my fingers through his hair, lifting his head to slow him down enough that I didn’t shoot my load into his mouth before I even had a chance to get him on my lap.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I rasped, hips shifting off the couch in protest of my own actions.
Silas groaned, slowing down and easing up the suction. I closed my eyes and stretched my arms across the back of the couch, enjoying the way pleasure wrapped around my spine the longer he sucked me, content to enjoy the feel of him until he started to chase after friction with sharp pumps of his hips.
“Settle,” I warned, tapping his head until he pulled off.
Rocking back onto his heels, it was the second time thatnight Silas had gazed up at me with a wet face, though this time the tears were far more welcome than the first.
“Go get lube,” I told him, and he was off in a flash, leaving his pants around his knees as he awkwardly raced down the hallway. He was back in seconds, the bottle still wet from the shower as he pressed it into my hand.
Flipping the lid, I squirted some into his waiting hand, then used my foot to kick him backward toward the coffee table.
