“You must already have safewords you like to use,” Kyle says.
“I keep it simple with traffic lights. They’re self-explanatory and easy to remember.”
“Red means stop, green means go?”
“Right, and amber means slow down. If I can’t speak, I click my fingers.”
“Can’t speak?”
“Like last night, when you put your fingers in my mouth—that was hot, by the way—or if I’m sucking cock. I like being gagged too. But I’m not asking you to do that. Praising me is more than enough.”
“I want to do that.”
“So you keep saying.”
“But do you believe me?” He kisses a path down my spine.
“Yes.”
“So…friends with benefits?”
“I’d like that.”
“Can I persuade you to get sweaty again before we take a shower? I want to explore your pretty arse again. Maybe find out how beautiful you look with your mouth stretched around my cock, or how delicious yours tastes. Spoiler alert, I know you’re going to look fucking gorgeous and taste amazing.”
Blood throbs. My dick hardens. I reach up to cup his jaw, finally daring to believe this is real. I lean against his shoulder and turn my face to kiss his cheek. “Do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.”
“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He massages my bottom lip with his fingertip. “I have one last question.”
“What?”
“Last night. You kept starting to call me something, but you never let it out. What was it?”
My heart thrashes. “Sir.”
He makes a funny, strangled noise. “Fuck.”
“I won’t call you that.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding.”
I furrow my brow. “How so?”
“Say it again.”
“Sir?”
“Yes.” He blows hot air over my cheek and then kisses the same spot. “Damn, that felt good.”
The only answer I can give him is to smile. He needs to figure that out for himself. Maybe he won’t, just like I don’t know why praise drives me wild. We don’t have to be able to explain or justify the things that bring us pleasure.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“Telling me all that. For helping me learn some new things about myself. For being so damned gorgeous.”
I tremble. “You wanted to get sweaty again?”
