Control issues. Right. I can work with that. I don’t need to have my way in this as long as I wind up getting exactly what I want.
Aaron kisses me again and again, pulling away by a scant few inches and then pressing forward to take my mouth each time, hungry for more but resolved to make whatever this is last. I let him get away with it, becoming malleable under his tender kisses and bruising grip. I find myself enjoying the dichotomy of it, the softness and the roughness sewn together to create an exhilarating contrast.
Eventually, he encourages me to open my mouth, which I do—too eager,muchtoo eager—and his kisses become harder and deeper, lingering long enough to leave me gasping for breath, my heart quickening with excitement and a twinge of fear. I like the fear almost as much as I like how good his lips feel against mine.
Even with the more aggressive, and repeated, claims of my mouth, Aaron still doesn’t rush anything. He seems content to drive me out of my mind with anticipation. I’m not entirely sure what’s coming, and that within itself is a thrill I haven’t experienced in a while. For all the trouble of my past, it was hardly ever unpredictable. Before my mum’s death, my life was a study in routine and structure; the heavy hand and ironclad control of Ian Stone left little space for spontaneity. Unless he, of course, initiated it.
Perhaps Aaron senses the unpleasant direction of my thoughts because he changes things up by letting go of my wrists only to shift that strong grip to my thighs instead. He lifts me up and settles me on his lap, knees spread and digging into the sofa on either side of him with an ease that isn’t unexpected but still manages to ignite a bonfire in the pit of my stomach.
Smoke rises to envelope my thudding heart and choke out my lungs when his large hands grab my hips, and he grinds me down on his hard cock. My own erection jerks at the contact, pulsing with the need to answer the call and grind down against him again, then over and over until we both come in our underwear like fucking teenagers in the backseat of a car.
Aaron grunts out his pleasure at the feel of our cocks rubbing together, even with far too much fabric in the way, the friction, at least, a welcome benefit. He gives me another voracious kiss, this time pushing his tongue into my mouth and swiping along the back of my teeth to steal a taste. It’s a wild, wet thing, hot and lurid, and I’m immediately craving a repeat the second he pulls away.
“Look at me, Rohan,” Aaron orders, and itisan order, forcing me to drag myself further from him so I can do as I’m told.
I brace my hands on his broad shoulders and look down at him, trying not to scowl, to show my impatience to him so easily. Something tells me that any sign of subordination will earnme nothing but further torment, punishment in whatever form Aaron deems fit. I’d be fucked off by it if I wasn’t so busy being turned on by it instead.
Aaron gazes back at me with razor-sharp focus, all his attention undeniably fixated on me, on my flushed neck and face, on the rapid rise and fall of my chest. His eyes are hot and dark, filled with a predatory gleam that speaks to his enjoyment, like a hunter, a wolf, stalking prey through the shadows of a wood he was born and bred in.
“If we do this,” he warns, serious despite his obvious desire to tear into me, to wreck me with that perfectly controlled brand of passion, “there’s no going back. Do you get what that means? I need you to understand the consequences, Rohan.”
He seems happy to wait, to be patient, to give me time to really think about it, but it’s all bullshit anyway.
I scoff at him, spite, acidic and ruinous, leaking into my voice. “Tell me to get off your lap and get to bed, and I fucking will. Don’t make this my fault, you prick.” My eyes narrow, wrinkling my nose at him in mild distaste, mocking. “Is this how you treat your son? Give him options that you know he won’t take and then blame him for it? ’Cause, gotta say, Senior Agent North, that’s some real cunty behaviour right there.”
Aaron’s fingers bite into my sides, anger sparking to life all over his face, in the tick of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. I don’t care, though. He deserves to be called out for that crap. He gives me this pissed-off look, and I just glare back at him, waiting for his next move.
“That is one hell of a mouth you’ve got there, kid.”
And we’re back to him calling me “kid.” Interesting.
“I know, it’s the only good thing my dad ever gave me. Probably why he kept breaking it.”
Aaron, to his credit, does not wince at that, which pushes him up in my estimation, recovering some of the ground he lost before.
Rather than spewing more manipulation at me, he trails one hand up my back until he reaches my nape. His fingers grip me hard there, like he’s picking up a naughty kitten by the scruff of their neck. He tugs me down into another rough kiss, this one holding an edge of promise that I’m annoyingly relieved by.
There’s an easy confidence in Aaron that skirts close enough to arrogance for me to find it attractive rather than off-putting.
Aaron yanks me forward to crush our mouths together again, this time with more purpose as he shifts one hand between us to undo the button on my combats and his, releasing the pressure a bit for both of us. He tugs at my T-shirt next, and I reluctantly drag my lips away to pull it up over my head, discarding it on the floor somewhere behind me.
I move off his lap and kneel down on the floor between his spread thighs and do the rest of the work, freeing his appreciative, well-proportioned cock from the confines of his underwear. I lean in close to breathe hot air on the crown of Aaron’s hard cock, then fit my mouth over it and lave the slit with my tongue.
Aaron pushes his fingers into my hair and fists it, holding on tight and pulling me back from his cock, tilting my head so I’m forced to look up at him.
There’s a weight to his stare, intense and severe, that freezes me in place far more effectively than any amount of manhandling. He knows as well as I do that I could break away from him at any time. No matter how much bigger he is than me, I will always be physically stronger. But his stare packs a dominant punch that I find hard to ignore when I’m in this state, hyped up on wanting his cock, on wanting to see him crumble under my mouth and hands.
Iwanthim, and underneath everything, despite what I’ve gone through in my life, at heart I’m still a spoiled little rich boy. Patience is not my strong suit, not in situations like this, when the object of my desire is so close and seemingly willing to be snatched into my possession.
“What?” I ask, ignoring the slight whine my voice because my dignity depends on it. He looks pointedly at my mouth, and I split it open into a sardonic smirk. “You scared I’ll bite you? Don’t worry, I promise to keep my teeth to myself.” I gnash them at him for good measure, and I can see Aaron trying to supress his amusement.
“If you use those things on me,” he growls, sending a delicious shiver up my spine, “rest assured, I’ll make you choke on them.”
My smirk widens, and I strain against the hand in my hair. He tightens his grip in response, and it hurts, but it’s the good sort of hurt, one that rides the razor edge, promising pleasure in return for taking on the pain.
“That what you’re into?” I prod, staring back at him curiously. “Want me to choke and cry for you? Want to call me kid when you come down my throat?”
Aaron’s eyes widen ever so slightly, caught off guard by the question.
