He narrows his eyes at me but before he can say anything I close the distance between us and lift my arms to cage him against the wall.
I’m not touching him anywhere, but I’ve barged right into his personal space and I’m making myself at home. It doesn’t take long for him to react to the invasion. It’s similar to when I did this on Sunday night: flushed, panting, trembling…and I don’t need to check to know he’s hard as fuck.
I lean closer, biting down on my lip to hold back a groan when he—no doubt subconsciously—bares his neck to me. Fuck, I want to bite it. I want to sink my teeth into his skin and mark him asmine.
Fuck, get a grip, Grimsay—he hasn’t even agreed to sub yet.
“This is me dominating your space,” I murmur in his ear. “Which is something you seem to like a whole damn lot. Or is there another reason being this close to me has you panting like a little bitch? You can’t have it both ways, dirty boy…”
“Fuck,” he groans, tipping his head back against the wall.
“You know that magic power I have to turn you on?” I ask softly. “It’s because I’m the S and you’re the M. I know which buttons to push, which screws to turn, which threads to pull. I know waking you up on a Sunday by calling you a whore is going to get you hard as fuck. I know singling you out for blatant sexual attention is going to rattle you. I know mocking you and shaming you while you jerk off is going to make you blow like a hydrant.” I pause as I lower my right hand, running it over the front of his jeans and smirking at the groan Damon lets out as I start to rub his massive hard-on. “And I know you’d rather have me make you come like this than get a hand job from every woman in the bar tonight. You’d want me to send you home with a wet spot for everyone to see.”
“Fuck…fuck,”he groans, grinding against my palm.
“Or maybe…” I move my hand from his crotch and reach up to grab a fistful of his hair in a tight grip. “I could shove you to your knees and come on your face?”
The strangled groan he lets out sounds almost inhuman and his breathless desperation when he starts pleading surprises me a little. “Do it…want it…fuck. Please, Jazz…want your cum on me…”
Well, damn…
Before I can react to that, I feel Damon’s hands gripping my waist and his cock grinding against my thigh.
Okay, this demonstration might be getting slightly out of hand…
I take a fractional step back before gripping both Damon’s hands and bringing them together to pin against the wall overhis head. “I don’t remember saying you could use me as a scratching post, little bitch.”
Damon groans in what sounds like a mix of mortification, disappointment and arousal.
With restraint worthy of sainthood, I release my grip and take several steps back. “Okay, I think it might be time to end this demonstration.”
4
“Are youfucking kidding me?”I demand, overcome with incredulity and disappointment as Jazz steps away, leaving me completely unsatisfied.
“I told you it was just a demonstration,” he says smoothly.
I let out an agonized sigh, resting my head back against the wall. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
“Do you at least believe me now?” he asks pointedly.
“You didn’t need to convince me of any of that,” I grumble. “I already know I get turned on by all that shit—I’m not trying to claim otherwise. But your explanation for it all just doesn’t make sense. I’m not a submissive person. And I’m sure as hell not a masochist. I don’t seek out criticism or wallow in despair. I’mnot self-disparaging. I mean, it’s not like I actually take any of that BS to heart...”
“I should hope not,” he says, leaning back against the bar. “If youwerewaving red flags like that around I’d be off faster than Barry Allen in the other direction.”
My brows draw together in puzzlement. “Huh?”
He sighs, rubbing a hand through his dark hair. Then he hits me with a level look. “The thing to keep in mind is context. When I use the words ‘masochist’ and ‘submissive’ I’m speaking in a sexual context, not a social one. Your sexual preferences and inclinations are in no way a reflection of your personality. You might be headstrong and assertive and self-reliant but, as I literally just proved, you crave sexual domination—ergo, you’re a submissive.” His mouth tilts up at the corner and a hint of something that almost looks like reassurance flickers in his gray eyes. “And despite how much being shamed and debased turns you on I know you have a healthy, positive view of yourself—one of the first things I noticed about you was how strong-minded and self-assured you are.”
My brows shoot up in surprise at that declaration. “Seriously?”
He grins. “Why do you think I’ve had so much fun rattling you? I push you out of your comfort zone and then you just dust yourself off and walk back in, ready for another go. It’s hot as fuck.”
I avert my gaze for a moment, frowning as I try to make sense of this new information. “That’s…unexpected.”
Jazz arches a brow at me. “What—did you think I was justthatmuch of an asshole?”
I shrug. “Kind of.”
