Ansel freezes. “I’m definitely not doing that.”
I sigh dramatically. “Then I guess we’re back to me making a mess.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ansel grumbles. “Fine. But don’t make this out to be anything it isn’t.”
My heart speeds up as his slender fingers unbutton my jeans before undoing my zipper. My cock is already hardening before he puts his hand on it.
He shoots me an incredulous look. “You can’t piss with an erection.”
“I know that,” I say in exasperation. “It’s not my fault. You’re touching it. I can’t help but get excited.”
“I’m barely touching you!”
“It’s enough,” I say, my eyes drifting closed at his featherlight touch. “You cockblocked me last night, and now it doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t cockblock you.”
I open my eyes to give him a pointed look. “No, you just invited me to fuck you and kidnapped me instead.”
Ansel’s lips twitch—the merest ghost of a smile. “Fair. But stop thinking about that and concentrate. We’ll be here all day otherwise.”
“I don’t mind that,” I murmur as my hips rock forward. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. “Suddenly, pissing is the last thing on my mind.”
Ansel’s breath quickens as his grip tightens. He matches my movements almost automatically. “What are you doing?”
I look over at him with hooded eyes, electricity zipping up my spine. “I think the better question is, what areyoudoing?”
That snaps him out of the moment. To my utter dismay, he lets go of my cock and steps back. “Stupid. This is fucking stupid.”
The next thing I know, my wrists are being freed and the door is slamming behind him.
I stare at the wood thoughtfully before grinning.
A third date and there’s been peen touching. Made it to second base.
Great progress, if I do say so myself.
When I’m done using the bathroom and cleaning myself up a bit, I saunter out. I may have used his toothbrush without permission, but he doesn’t need to know. Ansel is waiting for me, a rope in one hand, his phone in the other. His lips are moving as he mutters something under his breath, and I cock my head slightly, trying to make out what his nervous murmurings are all about.
My flaccid dick doesn’t quite seem to care what his mouth is saying. It perks up at the sight, and Ansel glowers at me when he sees the tightness in my jeans.
“Back in the chair.”
I hesitate, wanting to push him up against the wall, press his arms over his head, and grind against him. But I don’t do that. That would destroy the trust I’m building between us. It’s fragile still, and in need of some tender loving care. So instead, I do as he says, sitting on the rickety chair and instructing him on how to tie the best knot.
He doesn’t listen to me, leaving my wrists poorly tied together, the ability to escape once more an exciting reality. He really does keep me on my toes.
“Is someone coming to join us?” I ask. It’s a normal question for a victim to ask, but not for the reason I am. I genuinely only care if someone is about to show up and spoil our fun.
Ansel frowns. “Apparently not any time soon.”
Excellent.
His hands brush against my wrists and forearms a number of times. When he steps back, his cheeks are flushed, and he glances down at me.
I stare up at him and grin.
“Stop smiling at me.”
