Smith swallowed audibly. “Mine.”
“Very good.”
I smiled, cradling his face in my hand and stroking my thumb across his eyebrow, and he leaned into the touch like he was dying for it. Had I ever been with a man so responsive? I didn’t think so.
I tweaked his nipples until they were hard and fastened the textured rubber clamps to each one. As the intricate clamps tightened down around the already sensitive buds of skin, Smith’s eyes grew large and his jaw went slack. His lashes did a little flutter, and I tugged on the chain for good measure to make them tighter.
“Does that hurt?”
He blinked hard, mouth opening and closing like a fish before he said, “Not in a bad way.”
“I don’t think there is a bad way with you.”
The next thing I wanted to do with Smith was the greatest act of pain I figured I could bring to him, though not in any way he’d expect. I’d been honest with him, but I wanted to make sure he understood what his life would be like if he stayed with me. People put so much focus on arousal, hinged so much of their self-worth on the way they made other people feel, and with me, that wasn’t a fair indicator. I was all in on Smith Covington, evenif my body didn’t always outwardly agree. I wanted Smith in dangerous and terrifying ways, but that didn’t mean I wanted to fuck him, and it certainly didn’t mean I was always going to be hard for him.
“Get on your knees,” I told him, and he went down with all the grace of a man who was born to kneel.
I undid the fly of my jeans and pulled my soft cock out, stroking it a couple of times before dragging it across his mouth before he understood the ask and opened. I fed my flaccid dick onto his tongue until his nose was buried against my stomach, and then I told him to suck. Smith suckled my cock like a pacifier, and not once did he utter anything that sounded even remotely close to disappointment when my shaft didn’t thicken against the roof of his mouth.
“Your tongue is burning hot,” I murmured, brushing his hair back from his face. He blinked up at me, mouth barely stretched and pupils dark as two pots of ink. “Do you like having me in your mouth?”
He moaned, the vibration shaking through my entire body.
I thrust toward the back of his throat a couple of times, reading Smith’s face for any signs of annoyance or boredom and finding none. He was just as horny and submissive as he’d been in the bathroom, as he’d been on the couch at Rapture watching that predicament bondage scene.
I slid my hand away from his face and down toward his ear, finding the pressure point at the back of his jaw that would coax him to his feet. He startled, my cock falling out of his mouth as the pain lanced through him, and he let me raise him back to standing.
“You’re such a good listener, baby.”
He smiled, a breathy thing, and I pressed our mouths together, tasting the sweat of my dick on his tongue. Like a good boy who didn’t need instruction, Smith also kept his hands tohimself. Ending the kiss, I pulled the leather cock ring out of my pocket and reached between his legs. He was too hard to get it on without a fight, and tugging on his balls wouldn’t do a single thing to ease the blood in his erection. Smith grunted and groaned while I manipulated his cock and balls into the leather, giving his sac a good tap once I’d finished fastening the snaps.
“You’re not coming tonight,” I reminded him. “And that’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And stop doesn’t mean stop.”
He shook his head.
“Get on the bed. All fours.”
It took a second for the instruction to register, but he made it to the bed and onto his hands and knees in what I considered a reasonable amount of time. I pressed my hand against the small of his back until he sank into an arch, pushing his still bruised ass into the air.
“It’s easier to see you this way,” I said, stepping back to appreciate the sight of him, prostrate and hard, ready and restrained.
If it were any other night, any further into the timeline of our relationship, I would have taken a paddle to the blistering cane marks on the back of his thighs. It would have cost me nothing to spank him bloody if that was what he wanted. But as much as we both knew Smith’s masochism ran deeper than his submission, I wasn’t interested in pushing anyone that close to the edge of their limits.
This was supposed to be fun, after all.
And I was very much enjoying myself.
Instead I went to him with my hands. I cracked my palm down hard against the sensitive strip of skin below the fold of his ass cheek. Smith muffled a cry into the pillows, and I grinned to myself because he whined and whimpered, tensed, then rightedhis posture back to how I’d started him off. Even in the cock ring, Smith’s cock leaked and throbbed, getting thicker and angrier by the second. Moving around to the foot of the bed, I felt more myself than I had since Ev was alive.
Gently, I tickled my fingers down the backs of his thighs, his calves, to his ankles. I grabbed his Achilles tendon between my thumb and my finger and squeezed until Smith’s arms stopped supporting him. When he collapsed against the bed, I let go and waited for him to reset himself.
And once he did, I pinched the pressure point again.
It only took four more tries for Smith to start sweating, and one more after that before he gave up on trying to keep his hands braced against the sheets.
