So many things.
“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“You know.” He looks at me meaningfully, begging me to elaborate. And I’m game.
“First, I’d strip you naked and watch you wobble around my house in those come-fuck-me pumps like a newborn foal until your feet are blistered and raw. Until you’re crying and begging me to let you take them off. Then, when you can’t stand the pain anymore, I’ll make you get down on your hands and knees and crawl to me like a drugged-out whore. But even when you cry, I won’t offer you any relief. You’ll have to earn it, with your mouth. You’ll take my cock so deep in your throat, deep enough to perforate your esophagus, and I’ll fuck your skull until your only thought is to wonder whether or not you’ll ever be allowed to breathe again. And when you’re sobbing and snotting everywhere, when you’re truly scared of what I might do to you, I’ll come so violently down your throat that it goes flying out your nose and ruins your pretty—”
I’m interrupted by pulsing jets of hot semen spurting from Adam’s dick. His organ throbs in my hand, so full of life and vigor. I keep tugging, squeezing his shaft tighter and tighter until the crown turns a dark purple hue. “Please,” he says, disoriented by his orgasm. “Please stop. Hurts.”
I stroke him a few more times before finally releasing him. My slick hand rests atop his thigh and remains there, a subtle claim.
“Did you like that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Yeah. Fuck.” He falls back against the chair and stares up at the sodium-vapor sky. A thin rivulet of cum gathers in the gulley of his abs and slides across his smooth stomach.
“You made a mess.” I scoop up a fingerful of semen and hold it out for him to lick. His brow quirks in uncertainty before he extends his tongue and obediently laps up every last bit. It could be the drugs making him so docile, but I suspect it is something much more profound.
“Did you mean all that?” he asks as I withdraw my finger. I wipe the remainder of his ejaculate over his sculpted abs and smear it across his pecs like a child’s finger painting. My other hand still grips his smooth inner thigh, hard enough to leave a few bruises just in case he doubts himself tomorrow.
“All what?” I ask.
“What you said to me just now?” He continues to watch me, wild-eyed, a little scared, and so fucking hot.
“I meant every single word.”
Chapter4
Adam
Cool sheets, sunlight, morning breath—gross. My head is foggy, but I don’t feel hungover. Where the hell am I? This bed ishuge. The room is huge too. I glance to my side to find the sheets rumpled but cold.
“You’re up,” says a voice. A man’s voice. Deep and smooth like jazz radio. Cassius. CassiusPeacock.Standing at the foot of the bed in a silk robe and loafers.
“Perfect timing,” he says, “I’ve just made breakfast.”
Breakfast?Breakfast isn’t something I do. I need to go at least twelve hours without eating and only after my morning run will I maybe down a couple boiled eggs or a protein shake. Cassius stares at me expectantly, and last night comes rushing back—the fancy country club, his fantastic car, hanging out by the pool… that ecstasy was good. Really,reallygood.
“Did we…” I begin. I don’tthinkwe had sex, but I can’t be completely sure. My memories are blurry and disjointed; all of it reads like a fever dream.
“Did we drop ecstasy, eat a shit-ton of processed foods, and talk about our greatest sorrows?” he asks. “Yours was a thirteen-year-old Golden Retriever named Snickers, may she rest in peace.” Cassius crosses himself with piety. When I don’t react, he says, “Your eggs are getting cold.”
I climb out of bed, still a little disoriented, to find myself in cozy sweats and a UCLA hoodie, also not mine. Cassius notices me inspecting the clothing and says, “You’re already wearing my alma mater. How domestic are we?”
“What did we eat?” I vaguely remember something fried with dipping sauce.
“Mozzarella sticks with nacho cheese, which, for the record, I thought was redundant, but you insisted. I had it delivered.”
Fuck me. This is why I don’t drink or do drugs. I lose all my inhibitions when I’m under the influence.
“How many did I have?” I quickly try to tabulate the calories in my head like a ledger to determine how many I’ll need to burn today.
“Quite a few but, Adam, you’re allowed to indulge every now and again. Of course, the way you attacked that cheesecake was pretty impressive.”
“Cheesecake too?” I grip my abs underneath my shirt, sliding my fingers along their grooves to make sure they haven’t lost their definition.
“You were like a lioness in the jungle with that one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man become so territorial over a dessert.”
“I am so fucked,” I say as he turns and motions for me to follow. I’m stunned again by the elegance and style of his home. His wealth is a little staggering. I grew up in what would be considered a modest household, although comfortable by local standards. Still, my brother and I shared a room with bunk beds until he moved out. I can’t believe Cassius has this whole house to himself. How luxurious!
