“You don’t see what I see, do you?” he murmurs in my ear.
I lightly shake my head. I don’t even notice my hand drifting up to pinch a bit of my protruding gut to give it a little jiggle, until his own hand swats it away.
“Uh-uh,” he admonishes me. “Your tummy is perfect.”
“Oh, please,” I scoff.
His reflection scowls at me. “What is it you’re constantly telling me whenever I’m feeling like shit for thinking the way I do about myself?”
“Don’t talk about one of my favorite people like that…”
He nods. “That’s right.” He presses a kiss into the skin that’s flaming on my neck. “This outfit looks fuckingamazingon you, Brooks. It’s almost a shame it took so long to put it on, because all I want to do now is tear it back off.”
I watch as a flush starts to creep up from my neck into my face. He tilts my chin back towards him, kissing me on the lips. He swipes the pad of his thumb across the apple of one of my cheeks.
“Black and blue lace on your body; perfect pink on your cheeks; and I bet I’d find a bright red—almost purple—cock down there, needing to get off,” he murmurs on my lips.
I mean, the man’s not wrong. Despite my insecurities, I can’t deny that I’m hard enough to cut glass right now.
“It doesn’t make me looktoofeminine?” I worry. “I mean, you’re not attracted to women.”
“Women typically don’t have hard-ons like you do right now, Reckless,” he points out.
His hand coasts down to my neck, and he twists my head back to face the mirror. His hand fits like a collar around my neck, a perfect amount of pressure holding me in place but not cutting off my airway, and I suck in a breath. He takes my earlobe between his lips and gives it a good suck.
“Here’s what I want you to do, Brooks,” he rasps in my ear. “I want you to watch, just watch, as I show you how much I appreciate this body.”
I gulp, and he gives me a lascivious chuckle. “I grew up on a lobster boat, baby. I’m pretty handy with ropes and knots. Trust me, if I need to tie you up, just to keep your hands to yourself while I get you to make a mess all over this pretty lace, I can.”
Umm, holy crap on a cracker—that idea has me figuratively all tied up in knots…
“Evan—” I whimper, my cock twitching with need.
“I won’t give you what you need until you give me something I need first, though,” he offers. “I need you to look into that mirror, look yourself in the eyes, and say these words: ‘I am sexy as hell.’”
I practically whine.
“Say it,” he growls, putting a little more pressure in his grip around my neck. “Tell me, Brooks. Tellyourselfthat you look gorgeous just as you are.”
“I’m g-gorgeous,” I croak.
He tightens his grip a bit. “Meanit.”
I sigh, my cock practically has a pulse of its own, at this point. I give myself an appraising look, letting myself go boneless in his arms. Looking at the hungry, possessive way he’s holding me. Reallyfeelingthe way he wants me, as my backside makes contact with his own steely length.
He’s hard right now because of me. He wants me badly. Moreover, he wants me to feel worthy, just as I am. He wants me to submit to him in a way that I’ve never been asked to submit to anyone before… ever.
Mind. Body. Soul.
That knowledge—the feeling that my body is something he craves, even with its flaws—cracks open something in me. The tender way he requested my submissiveness. The care he’s taking with me. Shoot, it’s something I’ve never had before, ever.
“I’m gorgeous,” I repeat, this time with more conviction.
His reflection beams at me, as his grip around my neck loosens. “Say, ‘I’m perfect just as I am.’”
I repeat him, unwavering in my delivery.
“Good boy,” he praises, cupping my dick over the fabric and skimming my length appreciatively. “I think someone deserves a little reward, don’t you?”
