“Is that your only objection?”
Blackwell looked displeased, and the instincts that had been telling Sebastian to run screamed at him that he needed to get awaynow, before the predator sitting in front of him attacked.
“I want to keep my job,” Sebastian said, finding his courage. He made his voice firm. “And I don’t want to stop seeing my friends and family.”
“I don’t see how that would be an issue.” Blackwell’s voice was conciliatory. He smiled, lips pulling wide enough that Sebastian could see the sharp glint of his canines. “I don’t want to make you a prisoner.”
And there was Sebastian’s problem. If Blackwell picked him, whether or not he was made into a prisoner was somethingBlackwellgot to decide. Sebastian would be completely at his mercy.
“Anything else?” Blackwell asked. He sounded perfunctory, like Sebastian’s reservations were a list he had to work through before he got what he wanted.
It was infuriating.
Sebastian shook his head.
Blackwell pushed his legs an inch or so further apart, the hand on his thigh sliding up to cup not at all innocently over his bulge. His thumb kept moving, and Sebastian stared transfixed as it brushed over what was without a doubt the wide, mushroom-shaped head capping Blackwell’s cock.
“Are you comfortable taking on a submissive role during sex?”
The question came out of nowhere and Sebastian’s blush intensified, his face so hot that it was painful.
His cock gave a twitch of interest and Sebastian hoped that Blackwell hadn’t noticed.
He hated that Blackwell was turning him on. It wasn’t fair that someone should be that hot and scary at the same time.
“Yes.” The word was little more than a croak.
Why hadn’t he lied?
“Really?” Blackwell leaned forward, anticipation and hunger written clear across his features.
Sebastian nodded. He didn’t have a lot of experience with anything rough or kinky, too shy and embarrassed to ever admit he wanted to be dominated, but he’d always gone for the type of guy who could pick him up and throw him around.
“And am I your type, sexually?” Blackwell was smirking now.
Sebastian nodded again, his blush managing to intensify even further. If Blackwell had approached him at a bar or club, Sebastian would have followed him home like a lust-drunk puppy and let him do whatever he wanted.
But Blackwell hadn’t approached him at a bar or club. He’d had the cops practically arrest him.
“But you don’t want me to pick you,” Blackwell stated, brow furrowed. “Even though I’ll let you keep your job and your friends, and even though I’m exactly your type.”
Sebastian drew a stuttering breath. “I don’t.”
Blackwell considered him, his hand moving up to stroke his sharp jaw as the silence stretched between them.
“That’s too bad,” he finally said, standing up with an abruptness that made Sebastian flinch. “I would have liked it if you wanted to be picked.”
“Sorry,” Sebastian mumbled, relieved and strangely guilty.
“Oh no, don’t get me wrong.” Blackwell stepped around the glass coffee table and came to stand right next to his chair. His scent filled Sebastian’s nose, a rich cologne of sandalwood and leather. “I’m not leaving here without you.”
Sebastian froze, his ears ringing with Blackwell’s declaration.
“But I don’t-”
“I’ll be kind,” Blackwell interrupted, crouching down and threading his fingers through Sebastian’s hair. His massive hand was strong and sure, and Sebastian felt like someone had grabbed him by the root and yanked him out of the earth by his spine. Blackwell’s thumb rubbed a firm circle over his temple, like he was carving out his mark. “I’ll make sure you’re happy.”
Sebastian stared straight ahead, his thoughts crashing over each other as he tried to figure out what to do. He couldn’t think with Blackwelltouchinghim.
