The first slap of the belt across my ass makes me buck, but not because of the sting, just because I know Nick likes to watch me jump. He’s not a man who wants an unaffected partner, and that goes for everything he does—the pain as well as the pleasure. But then he straps me again across the back of my thighs, and that reallydoeshurt. I go still instead of jump, catch my breath, but his hand follows the belt, rough and callused, but soothing nonetheless.
The next few strokes are firm but placed across the full swell of my ass, which makes it much easier to take, and then he’s done with the belt, throwing it over his shoulder and crawling up behind me on the bed. My chest is already pressed against the soft coolness of the decorative silk bedspread, but his hand runs from my tailbone, up my spine, between my shoulders, and pushes me down onto the bed, hard.
“Look at me.”
I turn my neck as much as I can, slide my eyes sideways to meet his.
“When I give an order,” he says in this soft, gravelly voice, “I don’t normally get pushback. But you, I think you like to wind me up a little. Am I right?”
Oh, he’ssoright. “Maybe a little?” I wriggle my ass, and Nick gives an appreciative grunt. His hand strokes back down my spine, curves over my ass, and his fingers find the base of the plug. I feel him tapping at it and a low chuckle rumbles out of his chest.
Keeping his hand on the plug, he leans down to my ear. “So that’s the mood you’re in, huh?” I just smile. “Okay. Have it your way.” With a firm press of his finger on the soft button at the base of the plug, my ass starts buzzing.
When I first pulled this vibrating plug out of my box of toys, Nicky took it personally, like his dick wasn’t enough for me. But he has more imagination than he gives himself credit for, and it wasn’t long—six minutes, maybe?—before he saw the possibilities. He sees them now, too, as he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me over to the side of the bed, slaps me into groveling position, and then stands in front of me, hairy thighs spread so his crotch is perfectly level with my mouth. His fingers thread through my hair and my lips open automatically, but the way he grins down at me tells me that’s not what he wants.
Not yet.
“Last time we fucked,” he starts. Is he really going to bring up that comment I made? Denial and explanation spring to my lips fast, making me stammer out an, “Uhhh—”
“—you said you liked the smell of me,” he continues, as though he doesn’t even notice my almost-interruption. I bet he did, though. Nicky is anoticer. First point of evidence: remembering that I told him I like the way he smells. Ididsay that last time. I forgot about it in all the embarrassment of the other thing I said.
“Okay,” I say now cautiously. “Yeah. I do.”
His other hand, the one not toying with my hair, slides down his own body to cup his ballsack, lift it up. “Then get in there, Harvard. Rub around in it. Get it all over you.”
I don’t have much say in the matter. He presses my face into his crotch, his sack cool and fleshy against my cheek, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes me. Fact is, Idowant his scent all over me. The nights we do this, I try not to shower as long as possible, or I keep my clothes from the laundry a little longer than I should, just to give them the occasional sniff. And it’s not about his cologne. It’s abouthim, the dark, earthy smell of the man himself. It does something to me. Makes me desperate. Makes my sense go out the window, my head cloud, my cock ache.
I snuffle around in his junk while he presses my head close with both hands, rubbing my face against the soft skin until he’s sensitized by my unshaven jaw, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I start to mouth at his heavy balls, hear him murmuring from above,Yeah, suck those nuts. When I draw one into my mouth with a gentle tongue, his hands loosen up, caress the back of my head almost tenderly.Good boy. The plug gives out a deep throbbing in my ass, mimicking the start of a hugely enjoyable orgasm, but never building past the suggestion.
I get him soaked, and then I work up to his dick, which has filled out but still needs more attention. He grabs it himself, gives it a few strokes while he looks down into my spit-smeared face, his eyes glazed. “Pretty,” he sighs, almost to himself. Then he seems to give himself a metaphorical shake. “Better get to it. I need to catch up with a Gee after this.”
“It’ssosexy how you talk business when we fuck,” I purr. He grabs a handful of my hair again, but it only makes me laugh while I wince.
“Just open up,” he growls, stabbing his cock at my face, and I quit playing with him, let him stuff my mouth, adjust to let him in even deeper, and take personal satisfaction in the bitten-off groan I get out of him when my nose presses into his bush. My gut buzzes with the assplug as I work him over, and every passing second builds the need in me.
He’s the one who wanted it fast, after all. I pull off, my mouth slack and drooling, and look up into his face. “Enough. Come on.”
“No.”
I open my mouth to argue and find it full of his cock again instead. I love the taste of him, the bursts of salt, the feel of all those veins and ridges under my tongue as I curl it around his shaft. My own cock is jumping under my belly, demanding attention, but with the mood Nicky’s in—the mood I forced on him—he’ll just slap my hand away if I reach for it. So I focus on worshipping him, jam him even farther down my throat until I feel like I’ll drown in his spunk if he blows, but knowing I could die happy this way.
He pulls out, leaves me gasping and choking, and pushes me over onto my back. Last time I wore this plug he teased me a long time with it, easing it out and in while I squirmed and begged, but not tonight. He grabs onto the base and looks me dead in the eye as he turns it off, twists it, and begins to pull it out. The pressure builds inexorably, my muscles fighting as the flaring plug stretches them, my mouth opening as though I’m going to speak, but I have no words, for once, to describe the feeling of it. I want something in me. I wantNickin me. But to have him I need to lose the plug, while my body has become a mindless thing, all need and want and no thought behind it—my ass is full and it feels good and someone is trying to take that away from me.
I even reach out to grab his wrist, but with his other hand he peels my fingers off, raises them to his lips and kisses each knuckle, a cute distraction from what’s going on in my asshole. My ring opens up like a flower unfurling for the sun, my dick loses a little hardness as the widest part brings a faint stab of discomfort, and then it’s sliding out in one long smooth rush, my body expelling it even as it tries to grab on to it.
“Nicky.”
“I know. I got you.”
Hedoesn’tgot me. He’s ripping open a condom packet and feeling around for the lube, stretched out over me to reach across to the nightstand, but his skin is not touching me.Heis not touching me. Until he is; until his hand takes mine and puts it on my softening cock, and he whispers, “Come on, Harvard, get that cute little thing of yours standing at attention for me.”
It’s the nickname that does it. My dick gives a twitch, then a jerk, and it comes rapidly back to life as I stroke myself while I tongue his nipple, since it’s hovering over my mouth as he gets the rubber on, slicks up.
He started calling me “Harvard” the first time we met, after I got him out of the cop shop where he’d been charged with criminal mischief. Of course, my client knew nothing about how those headlights had got themselves smashed in. After we walked out of the precinct, I gave him a lift in one of the firm cars back to his apartment.
Where’d you learn to fight like that?he’d asked me, and I knew what he meant. I’d just verbally eviscerated the detective who’d pulled Nicky in, gone straight through him so I was in and out—with my precious Morelli cargo in hand—in nine minutes.
Harvard fucking Law. I’d answered without looking at him, putting on my sunglasses and leaning forward to instruct the driver.
