“Well, I want to get you something. And I can promise, you’re really going to like it.”
“Am I?” I asked, amused by your conviction and slightly nervous as well.
“Yes.” You beamed, then tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth, tilting your head just so. Your neck was bared. That was all it took to activate me.
“Are you finished eating?” I asked, taking in your sleeveless top and skimpy running shorts. Xavier probably adored your preference for scant clothing. Were the two of you spending too much time together?
“Yes,” you said with that mischievous gleam in your eyes.
I walked over and with a sweep of my arm, cleared the plates from your end of Xavier’s sleek wooden table. “Clothes off,” I commanded.
You stood and lifted your arms over your head as an invitation for me to undress you. It didn’t take long at all. That was one thing I appreciated about the advent of elastic; it made clothing so much easier to discard.
I circled you while examining your naked form for any recent bumps or bruises. I kept careful inventory of your injuries—both the ones I inflicted and those that occurred in the studio. Your body was now my responsibility, and because of the physical demands of your profession and my particular cravings, I wanted to assure your strength and vitality.
“Like what you see?” you asked and threw a coy glance over your shoulder.
I rapped the table with my knuckles. “Up here. Pronto.”
“Henri, Xavier would have a fit if I put my bare ass on his dining room table.”
“Remind me to wipe it down later,” I told you and pointed.
You shrugged and backed up against it, lifting just enough to rest your naked rear end on the edge of the lacquered wood.
“Spread them,” I told you as I retrieved one of Xavier’s expensive filleting knives and a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen.
“That’s a big fucking knife,” you said with a wide-eyed expression. “You’re not going to cut off my balls, are you?” You cupped your genitals in both hands.
I gave you an impatient look. “Orlando,” I admonished. It didn’t completely put your mind at ease, which was fine by me. A little fear got the adrenaline flowing and your blood pumping to all of your mouthwatering bits. “Open.”
With your eyes darting from my eyes to the blade, you sat back and spread your knees so that the bottoms of your feet were perched on the armrests of the dining room chair. I lifted one leg and slid in between them, standing over your genitals as though about to sit down to a feast.
“Henri, the knife,” you reminded me. Sweat had gathered at your temples and between your pectoral muscles. Your heart was aflutter and your breathing fast and shallow. I liked to scare you a little, but I didn’t want you to hyperventilate. I set the blade on the table where you could see it.
“You said I can do anything I want with your body. Are you telling me now there are limitations to your offer?”
You pulled in your lower lip and sucked on it. Your expression was unsure as your eyes tried to read me.
“You can,” you said softly, as if I’d hurt your feelings. “I mean…” you trailed off and glanced again at the knife.
“Orlando, I’m not going to damage your genitals. It’s a little ridiculous that I even have to tell you that.”
“You did cut off a guy’s pinky,” you reminded me with a shaky grin.
How I wished again you’d remained unconscious for that display.
“I’d never hurt you like that,” I promised and traced your luscious bottom lip with my thumb. Your eyes pooled with lust. I drew a line with my finger along the inside of your thigh, from your pubis bone to your knee. Your body hair was fine except for the strip beneath your belly button and under your arms. In those areas, your hair was a lustrous mahogany brown like the curls on your head. I’d shaved your groin recently, so I was given a magnificent view of what I was working with.
“I’ve missed you,” I said with a deep and sudden ache. It had been nearly a week since we were last together, but it had felt like so much longer. “Did you like the present I left you?”
You flushed and turned your head. It was a vibrator, made especially for stimulating the prostate. I’d asked Xavier to order it and have it delivered it to your apartment. “Yes,” you said throatily. “You’ll have to show me how to use it.”
“I will, but for now I want you to lie down and relax.” I pushed your chest gently until you were lying flat on your back. I quickly undressed and drizzled a generous amount of oil over your torso and genitals. The oil gave your skin such a rich, lustrous sheen.
“Have you been thinking about me?” I asked.
“Every day and in my dreams.” You squeezed my torso with your powerful thighs. I lifted one of your knees and hooked it over my shoulder. By now my own erection was fully formed, and my testicles were tight and painful.
