“Yes, Sir. I do.”
He really did. For more than Jared realized. Because the other man didn’t know what he’d done . . . if he found out . . .
North swallowed heavily. Sometimes he wondered if he wanted Jared to know.
To hurt him.
Turning, he bent over the desk and Jared reached under him to grab his cock again.
“What are you being punished for, my boy?”
North couldn’t hold back his shudder.
Fuck, that made him hot.
“Not going to talk? Have you gone non-verbal?”
“I don’t go non-verbal,” North told him.
That was something a Little might do. Not him.
“Well, that was a challenge if I ever heard one.” Jared reached around and grabbed his dick again, running his hand lightly up and down it.
Up. Down.
“Do it harder,” North demanded.
Smack! Smack!
Jared slapped his hand down on North’s ass.
Oh. Fuck.
How did that feel so good? The pain, along with being under Jared’s complete control, was a heady mix.
It gave him a high that was far healthier than anything else he’d tried.
Jared slapped him again. “You don’t get to make demands, boy. Because you’re not in charge, are you?”
“I’m in charge,” North said, just to poke and provoke.
It was their thing.
They both knew that Jared had full control.
Safe. Sane. Consensual.
Jared had tried drumming that into North’s head. As well as the need for a safeword.
North didn’t really give a shit about any of that stuff. North was confident that there was very little that he couldn’t take. And if Jared went too far? Well, North knew he wouldn’t, but if he did it wasn’t like there was anyone to mourn North, was there?
Sounded morbid, but that was the truth.
“Do not go drifting into your head, boy. Stay here,” Jared ordered, moving his hand away from North’s cock to squeeze his balls.
Motherfucker.
That damn well hurt.
