“You’d want to suck my cock, wouldn’t you?” he asked, reaching a hand between our bodies. I felt the brush of his fingers, and expected him to jerk me off.
I was half right. He did start to stroke me…but he stroked himself too. He’d shifted his hips so his hard cock was flat against mine, and he was rubbed us together, and the strangeness of it did weird things to my stomach.
This felt…intimate. Way more intimate than the other stuff we’d done.
“Don’t worry,” he continued, voice rough. “When I win —when you’re my slave — you can suck my cock as much as you want, pet.”
In any other circumstances, the pet name — theliteralpet name — would have made me laugh in his face.
But right then, my cock throbbed.
Why was my body doing this? I hated Taylor. I hated his stupid superiority, and his stupid talent, his stupid cleverness and his stupid, stupid face.
Get yourself together, I told myself. Don’t let your mind wander. Use Taylor’s weaknesses against himself.
If he was only touching me, that would be one thing. But he was rubbing himself too, and I could feel the faint pulse of his erection. He was close to finishing. All I had to do was trigger his orgasm.
“Well, whenIwin, I’ll be a good master,” I said. “I’ll give you what you really want.”
“And what’s that?”
I curled my lips. “I’ll let you fuck me.”
Taylor buckled over, and I awaited the splash of hot wetness against my stomach. But instead, he curled his fingers into the carpet, grabbing it so tightly, his knuckles turned white.
After what felt like a century, he straightened up. His hand on our cocks began to move again. He shifted, so his face was right above mine. I could see each of his individual lashes, which were as black as his hair. His irises were so dark, they blended into his blown outpupils. His brows were drawn together, either out of confusion or frustration or something else.
“You’re so fucking disgusting,” he said. His gaze dipped to my lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Then he kissed me.
I’d had kisses before, but this was something else. It was like he was devouring me — tongue against tongue, lips hard against mine, mouth so rough, it literally took my breath away.
It was hot as fuck, but I couldn’t enjoy it, because I felt a rush of heat, and then a second of panic — no, no, no, no, no, no.
And I came, my balls tightening as I shot all over Taylor’s stomach.
It was the best orgasm I’d ever had — I’d never come with someone else touching me before, with the weight of another person on top of me. It was…lovely, to be honest. Like I was floating up in heaven.
Then I came back to earth, the rush of pleasure fading away as I caught my breath. I felt sore and sticky and then a torrent of dread as I comprehended what had just happened.
I’d lost.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Aftermath
If there was any consolation, it was the fact that Taylor had come too, a few seconds after I did, painting my tummy with white ropes.
It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t change the fact thatI’d lost.
I expected him to gloat, but instead he seemed dazed— bleary eyed, hands slow as he wiped himself up with his shirt.
Neither of us said anything. I felt exhausted, grimy, and an unmistakable sense of dread.
I’d lost. How could I have lost? I’d been so confident. More than that, I’d been so close to winning…
I waited for Taylor to humiliate me, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze fell on me, but it was as if he was looking right through me, like I was transparent. Then he furrowed his brows, as if he were confused.
