Vincent hadn’t anticipated that Mal would want to take control. The development, while surprising, spurred Vincent on. Whatever direction the night took them in, he was ready.
“You wanted to know how you could fix what I was feeling?” Mal asked in a whisper. He curled his hand, bringing Vincent closer as he tightened his tie. The tiny act of possession made Vincent shiver with anticipation. What other delights was Mal hiding from him? “I have a pretty good idea.”
“Do you?” Vincent slid his hands over Mal’s hips, tracing the cotton weave of his dress shirt to the stiff leather band of his belt. Confidence curved his lips. “I’d love to know.”
“You,” Mal whispered, the sound of his voice a sultry temptation. He tilted his head to the side and let their lips brush, and it took all of Vincent’s self-control not to pin him to the wall and silence him with another starved kiss, “should carry me to bed, and then we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get up to.”
The moment went from incendiary to harrowing. Vincent kept his composure, stuffing his momentary panic down into the dredges of his soul. Mal was narrow and small—it wouldn’t be difficult to carry him. Why was he worrying? It was a few paces to the bed at most. He could do it.
Vincent’s hands slid from Mal’s hips to the curves of his ass. He tugged Mal a little closer, then turned his head until his lips found the corner of Mal’s.
“If that’s what you want,” Vincent uttered, voice smoothly confident despite his worry, “then it shall be done.”
He kissed Mal once more, teasing the corner of his lips, then adjusted his position to lift him up. The tie remained wrapped in Mal’s hand, but his free arm looped around Vincent’s neck, holding himself steady. Vincent’s arms strained, and his muscles protested, but he pushed past the exertion and carried Mal from the short hallway to the bedroom proper, where the crisply made bed waited. Vincent came to its edge and set one knee upon it, then the other, and carefully lowered himself so that he dipped Mal back onto the bed without pulling on his tie. Mal landed on the duvet, his pale eyes looking up at Vincent with unspoken adoration.
It was adoration Vincent longed to return.
Once Mal was settled on the bed, Vincent changed his position. He slotted one of his knees between Mal’s legs and slid it upward until it was lodged between Mal’s thighs. His hands braced themselves on the bed on either side of Mal’s shoulders, and as Vincent leaned down over him, Mal looked at him with a hesitant hunger that Vincent craved to satisfy. He got his chance when Mal lifted himself only enough to bring their lips together, starting a kiss that curled Vincent’s toes and made his cock ache to be touched.
Eyes closed from the kiss, Vincent parted one hand from the bed and discovered Mal’s body by feel. His suit jacket had fallen open, exposing his dress shirt. Vincent traced his fingers along Mal’s side, then along the cotton to the line of buttons that kept Mal’s dress shirt closed. One by one, he freed each disk from its hole until his fingers arrived at the buckle of Mal’s belt.
The kiss stopped—Mal had turned his head to the side to break contact. Vincent opened his eyes to see what was wrong to find that Mal’s chest was rising and falling heavily from the exertion of his arousal. Need had replaced the affection in his eyes. It didn’t look like he wanted to stop… so what had happened?
Vincent got his answer a second later.
“Ask permission.” Mal’s tone wasn’t firm or foreboding, but it struck Vincent with its intensity all the same. Arousal lurked in those words, masked by a playful quality that made Vincent’s cock twitch.
Was this really happening?
Mal wasn’t limiting Vincent’s dominance, but he was shaping it to suit his own desires.
While Vincent advanced their intimacy and provided pleasure, it was Mal who guided him—who called the shots. Everything Vincent did, he did at Mal’s command. The power he’d found in dominating Mal hadn’t been taken away, but it had been redefined.Thiswas the way Mal wanted them to play. And Vincent, who’d been born to please, to give, and to dominate through submission, would give it to him.
Mal would tell him what to do, and he’d do it. Never before had he wanted something more.
“Please?” Vincent whispered against his lips, his cock pulsing with sudden need. If he couldn’t undress Mal, he was sure he’d go insane. The scent of Mal’s heat was barely detectable, but the memory of it from their encounter in the storage closet fueled Vincent’s desire. Even if Mal didn’t allow him to penetrate his body, Vincent needed to touch him, taste him, make him come…
“Please what?”
The question came as a surprise. Vincent closed his eyes and shivered.
Oh, fuck yes.
“Please, can I undo your belt?”
“Good boy.” Mal ran a hand through Vincent’s hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen forward as Vincent leaned over him. Despite the confidence in his actions, there was an inkling of a tremble in his voice, like his confidence was an act at risk of being exposed. The hint of uncertainty didn’t faze Vincent—it excited him. He wanted to strip each of Mal’s insecurities from him piece by piece in the same way he wanted to strip him of his clothes. What would it take to build him up to the point he felt comfortable?
Could he do it in one night?
“You may.”
Vincent tugged the leather tongue from the clasp of Mal’s buckle. His belt fell open, exposing the fly beneath. Vincent went to caress the bulge there, but stopped himself short. The game had just begun, and he didn’t intend to lose it.
“Please, may I undo your fly?”
Lust lit in Mal’s eyes all over again, like the simple question was dirty talk. The sight of him like that stirred Vincent, and his heart started to pound as if he’d just run a race. How could one man have woven him around his finger so quickly?
“You may.”
