I rocked my hips forward. I couldn’t help it. And Tyson laughed, low and dirty, as his hand tightened a little and made me whimper.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me, Sean. You know that, right?”
He’d said it before but somehow, right now, the way he was looking at me and the fireworks shooting through all the naughty parts of me, I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a minute. It felt like everything just...stopped. Or maybe I just wanted it to, since the moment really did feel as perfect as he always said things were. And yes, hewasalways saying that, and he’d never—not once—made me think he was just kidding. So maybe... maybe he really meant it? Like really for real,forevermeant it?
“You’re perfect for me, too,” I said before I could stop myself, feeling something that I almost didn’t recognize start to unfurl inside me. Ibelievedhim. I mean, ofcourseI’d never thought he was outright lying to me, Tyson was far too nice for that, but I’d just always assumed… I mean, I’d just figured that eventually he’d… that someday, probably sooner rather than later, even if he meant itfor now, he’d… stop?
But what if he didn’t?
What if heneverdid?
My breath hitched, a dangerous, greedy kind of hope bursting to life inside me. I’d never really thought I could have the things I wanted because everything I’d wanted always seemed to be wrong—at least, that’s what I’d been told growing up—but even those times Ihadgotten something nice, I knew better to think it might last. But… maybe things might be different with Tyson. Maybe… maybe I couldmakethem different, because with Tyson, it felt like all I had to do to make things work was just... be me.
“Perfect, huh?” Tyson said, the way his eyes dragged down my face and settled on my mouth, making me feel all fluttery inside.
“I mean… almost,” I said, biting my lip as soon as the words left my mouth. My cheeks flared with heat and I couldn’t believe I’d just teased him again, not with his hand still on me and after all the nice things he’d just said. But I didn’t think he’d be mad. Tyson hadnevergotten mad at me, not one single time that I could remember, which was… well, it felt incredible.
Back home, I mean back at my parents’ house—which didn’t feel like home at all when I thought about it now, and honestly, maybe never had even though I’d grown up there all my life—but backthere, I used to feel like I was walking on eggshells all the time, always trying so hard to do the right thing but always getting it wrong anyway. And here, with Tyson, I… didn’t.
Not anymore, now that I knew him.
Notever.
And sure enough, all he did was raise one eyebrow and tease me right back. “Almostperfect? And what do I have to do to be all the way perfect, sweetheart?”
He alreadywasall the way perfect, I’d kind of lied about that just to make him smile—which I was sure was okay this once since it had worked—except… oh, God. Could I really say what I’d been thinking about lately, all those times he did things to me, made me spread my legs and used my bottom to make himself feel good? Rubbed himself on me until he made a mess right there, covering my hole with his hot release and then pushing it inside me? Played with that dirty little spot of mine, round and round with his fingers and sometimes even his tongue, until I wanted to scream from how good it felt? But still, he never…everused it the way I was pretty sure he liked doing with all those boys he used to bring back here.
He never put his thing inside me, and that… well, that reallywouldbe perfect if he ever decided he wanted me that way.
But I could already feel myself blushing harder just from thinking it and I wasn’t at all sure I could ever say it out loud. But maybe… maybe I didn’t have to, because Tysonhadpromised me something earlier, I remembered now. He’d promised that if I was good, he’d give me his… um, you know. And he could have meant it lots of different ways and I knew for sure I’d love all of them, but maybe this time he’d actually meant that he wanted… that?
“You’re thinking of something dirty, aren’t you, pretty thing?” he asked, almost purring as he stroked me right through my jeans again and then unzipped them, pushing them down. He hadn’t let me wear any underwear, so I was totally bare. “Is that what you want?” he asked, reaching around to cup my bottom and spreading it open… kneading the cheeks… slipping his fingers through my crease until I could barely concentrate on what he was saying. “Is that how I can be the perfect boyfriend for you? By giving you something you haven’t gotten yet? By making you all the way mine?”
I let my head fall forward to rest on his shoulder, panting hard as I tried hard to be good and… and think about… what he wanted... what had he asked?
“Yes,” I whispered, because I really couldn’t concentrate on all, not with the way he was touching me, but whatever he’d asked, I was pretty sureyeswould always be the right answer.
But Tyson stopped touching me. Made me straighten up and then lifted my chin to look at him. “Tell me,” he said, his voice all hard and stern the way I liked best since it meant I didn’t have to think about what was right or wrong at all, all I had to do was answer him. “I want to hear you say it, sugar. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“Tyson, will you…”
My tongue froze, glued to the roof of my mouth. Iwantedto be good, but there were some words I just couldn’t say. Words Tyson used all the time that always made me feel the best kind of bad—bad in that deliciously dirty way that with him turned intogoodeven though I know for sure I would have been punished hard for eventhinkingthem before—but even though I wanted to answer him, wanted to give him what he wanted, I just… I couldn’t.
He got that heated, bossy look in his eyes. “Can’t say it, baby?”
I wanted to cry.
“What if I made you?”
He put his hand back on my thing before I could even think about answering that, and I moaned, my eyes rolling back as I clutched onto his shoulders and tried not to make a mess right there in his hand.
“So fucking hot,” he whispered. “Is it like when you try to touch yourself, sweetness? You have such a squeaky clean mouth, is that why? You can’t talk dirty to me?”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I gasped out, jerking my hips forward because oh God, it felt so good when he touched me that Icouldn’tbe good sometimes.
“Don’t you ever be sorry,” he growled, squeezing me so tight it almost hurt. “And don’t fucking come, either, not until I say so.”
I stopped moving, feeling hot and flushed and like I couldn’t catch my breath and so… so grateful he was always there to help me be good when I couldn’t.
