My eyes widen at the information and I make no effort to hide how impressed I am. “The Iron Man. Definitely the Iron Man,” I tell him.
Damon Forrester
Why do you want to know about this? Now?
“Because I like to live vicariously,” I say wryly. And because recalling first-hand experiences of one of the most gruelingendurance events in the world is a sure-fire way to dampen anyone’s arousal.
15
I wakeon Sunday morning feeling thoroughly refreshed and rejuvenated, but as I’m stretching languidly in bed it occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t be. Sure, I actually managed to get to bed before midnight for once but considering that bathroom stall FaceTime interlude ended without an orgasm I would have expected to wake up frustrated and horny as fuck.
Curious, I reach for my phone, letting out a soft laugh as I scroll through the string of decidedly un-sexy texts about the Iron Man I did ten years ago. I was confused as fuck at the time by such a random segue, but once I’d started to chill out and my arousal had dampened it finally dawned on me that was Jazz’s intention.
And I can’t help feeling a grudging sense of appreciation that’s oddly similar to the way I felt on Friday night after he indulged my sudden and incredibly bizarre transformation into a cat. I guess it’s all part of the Dom service…
Me
I feel weird
He clearly has his phone close by because it’s only about thirty seconds later that mine is buzzing with a FaceTime call.
When I answer, it’s to find a mix of concern and curiosity in Jazz’s expression. “In what way?”
“I feel…light,” I tell him. “And invigorated. Like I’ve been at a fucking spa or something.”
He lets out a soft laugh, his brows shooting up in question. “And this is a bad thing?”
“I’m not complaining,” I rush to clarify. “It’s just weird. You didn’t let me come last night—I should be frustrated as hell.”
He offers a wry smirk. “You didn’t need to come, dirty boy—you needed to be dominated. That’s what you got.”
“But…I really needed to come as well.”
He lets out a huff of laughter. “No, you reallywantedto come—you didn’t actually need to. And if I’d given in and let you instead of enforcing the rules we’d established it wouldn’t have been that satisfying and you wouldn’t feel as mentally refreshed as you do right now.”
I eye him dubiously. “That makes no sense.”
“How to explain this…” he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in thought. Then he glances up, eyes alight. “Okay, it’s like this—you’ve always thought of orgasm as the icing on the cake, right? I mean, no one wants to eat a cake without frosting…”
I screwmy face up in distaste. “On the rare occasions I eat cake I always scrape the frosting off. It’s just butter and sugar. It makes me want to hurl.”
Jazz rolls his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. “Work with me here.”
I motion for him to continue. “Fine, yeah. I’m familiar with the idiom.”
“Well, kink isn’t your regular cake,” he explains. “It’s decadent and textured and multi-layered—like a German chocolate cake. And the orgasm is like the whipped cream served on the side of a slice. It complements the cake but it’s not an essential ingredient.”
I narrowmy eyes at him in suspicion. “And since you’re the one serving up the cake I’m guessing you always get to have cream with your slice…”
His lips curve in a self-satisfied smirk. “Actually, you guess wrong. I didn’t even touch my dick last night. Or last Saturday during our other phone call.”
I blink in confusion.Seriously?He was watching me get myself off—or attempt to, at least—and he didn’t want to…? “But…why? H-how?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want to miss anything.” Letting out a soft laugh, he adds, “There’s no need to pout, dirty boy—it was hot as fuck. I’ve replayed that phone call from last weekmultipletimes. And as for last night…well, the satisfaction of seeing you snatch defeat from the jaws of victory was better than any orgasm.”
I scowl at him. “Sadist.”
He chuckles. “Yep.”
