“Please.” Robin’s hand tightened on my hair in warning, and I could hear a bit of strain entering his voice. “And we’ll have some coffee after dinner as well.”
“Of course. It’s warm on this side of the restaurant, isn’t it? Would you like me to check the thermostat for you?”
“No, no,” he said quickly. “I’ll take off my jacket if it gets uncomfortable.”
If my mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied, I would have grinned in satisfaction. Robin’s low grumble reached me under the table.
“You are in so much trouble when we leave.”
He did not, however, stop me from picking up the pace, even though it meant his responses to the waitress were monosyllabic when she brought another round. His hand went slack on my hair when she left, letting me have my way, and I took the time to enjoy the control he ceded. I forgot, even, how uncomfortable I was, crammed under the table with a plug pressing against my prostate and my dick pinched by the folds of my fly.
I slid my tongue along the veins and tendon, and drew back to push it firmly against his slit until more salt tingled my taste buds. I thought I heard him groan at that.
Then his fingers pushed hard against my scalp again. His cock swelled, stretching my jaw, and his hips came off the bench two, three times before I felt the first surge. A moment later, thick fluid pulsed over my tongue and his entire body relaxed. His hand stroked my hair languidly.
“Coast is clear,” he murmured as I swallowed. I crawled back up to my seat, suppressing a groan at the shifting of the plug. Then I licked my lips and gave him a satisfied smirk.
“Great appetizer.” I popped a piece of calamari in my mouth, washing the residue of cum and squid alike down with my margarita.
Robin chuckled, his fair complexion flushed. I wasn’t the only one with sweat darkening the edges of my hair.
He turned suddenly and hooked a hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a quick kiss. “It’s going to be fun, trying to keep you on your toes.”
“Think you’re up for the task?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He drew away and grinned, reaching for his drink. “But it’s the trying that’s the fun part.”
The rest of the dinner proceeded unremarkably, except for the plug driving me insane by steady but persistent measures. I enjoyed talking with Robin, which really wasn’t something I’d tried with a hookup. He was interesting and funny and sexy, and he seemed to enjoy what I had to say. I was glad that we hadn’t fucked that first night. If we had, it would have been hella enjoyable, yeah, but ultimately a one-night stand. What we were doing now couldn’t have happened if we hadn’t had to step back and get to know each other.
Nonetheless, I could have strangled him for making us dawdle over coffee and dessert. Walking to the car with his hand riding on the upper curve of my ass was enough to buckle my knees. I whimpered when I finally sank into the seat of his sporty BMW. As he drove, he continued to tease me. It wasn’t far to get back to the resort, but by the time we arrived, I could barely walk.
“Please.” I groaned as he slipped his arm around me for support. “Please tell me you’re taking this fucking thing out soon.”
“When I’m ready.” Robin nipped the shell of my ear softly. “When we get inside, I want you to go straight to your room, get naked, pull the covers all the way down, stand in the corner, face the wall, and wait for me. Do not look around.”
I nodded, rushing to do what he demanded. Anything that brought me closer to ending my torment. I didn’t even bother to check if Jace was in his room as I hurried into my own and stripped, then peeled back the covers and stood as I’d been instructed. I heard Robin in the kitchen, though what he retrieved I couldn’t say. He came in and closed the door. I heard him set something on the dresser. Then a bottle of water appeared on the table beside me.
Robin’s hand caressed my back, making me shiver. His fingers moved on the nape of my neck, slowly creeping around to my throat. They brushed the upper edge of my collarbone, and I shivered again. I swayed, mesmerized by the light caresses, but for all he acknowledged, it might have been someone else’s hand playing along my skin.
Then he was gone again, spreading another sheet over the bed with an efficient snap. I stared at it in confusion.
“What did I say about looking around?” Robin demanded, and I quickly turned my head away. “Guess we’ll take care of that problem sooner rather than later.”
There was more rustling behind me, and he laid a folded length of black fabric—silk?—across my eyes and tied it firmly behind my head. Only a sliver of light remained in my peripheral vision. Not enough to see what Robin was doing.
I heard a match strike behind me, the smell of burning sulfur hitting my nostrils. He struck several more in sequence, and the sliver of light I was able to discern dimmed and flickered. He’d turned off the lamps and set candles.
“Lie down.” He pressed one hand to my back and, grasping my arm with the other, guided me the few steps toward the bed. “On your stomach.”
It wasn’t until I felt the roughness of terry cloth under me that I realized he’d also covered the bed in towels. What the fuck did he have planned? The fabric chafed my half-hard dick, and I humped against it, finding the friction delicious and frustrating. Robin’s hands spread my ass, tugging at the plug lodged in my hole. Pushing, I helped him remove it before sinking back down with a relieved sigh. “Thank God.”
I laid my cheek on the pillow and watched that sliver of wavering light. Robin barely gave me time to relax before he wiped away the leftover lube. Then he pushed my cheeks apart, and I felt his breath an instant before his tongue began stroking at the edges of my stretched hole. I gasped, my voice dropping to a breathless whisper. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
He took his time licking me, and I melted into it: warm and wet. I thought my asshole would be less sensitive after having that plug in for well over an hour, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I moaned again and again, my hips lifting and wriggling as he pushed and prodded, kneading the halves of my ass.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” He drew away with a final lick, caressing up and down my spine. “I haven’t gotten my money’s worth out of you.”
“Huh?” Lost in sensation, it took me a while to remember his game.
“Don’t move.” His fingers curled loosely around the front of my throat, crossing my larynx. He didn’t squeeze or put any pressure into the touch at all, and yet their presence was like hitting a switch. I shuddered once, then went stock-still. I could feel the weight of his hand as I swallowed.
His other hand skimmed over my ribs, my shoulders, down my back to the upper curve of my ass. Goose bumps prickled my flesh, and I drew in a shaky breath. I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that, despite the demonstration with the plug and the safeword and everything, he was being so slow and careful. I’d hoped he would set upon me as savagely as he’d pushed me against that tree the other night, but for the moment what he was doing felt good.
“Roll over.”
When I was on my back, his mouth brushed my lips. I sighed and opened to him, but he jerked back.
“I said don’t move.”
Jesus, but when his voice got chilly like that, I could feel it in my cock, having the exact opposite effect of cold. Of course, I was feeling just about everything in my cock right then.
Puzzled, I lay passive as he traced the outline of my lips with his tongue, and then the inside. Jesus, it felt good. I moaned softly, trying to press closer and deepen the kiss as his tongue nudged my teeth apart.
Once again he laid his hand across my throat, the web of his thumb hooked under my chin. He still didn’t squeeze, but the positioning was full of menace. It froze me, left me lying there trembling.
“Do. Not. Move.” He pulled me forward with a little pressure under the hinges of my jaw.
He then proceeded to fuck my mouth with his tongue. There was no other way to describe it. Holding my throat in a grip that comm
anded me to utter passivity, he pushed his tongue into my mouth, brushing it against my own, against my teeth, against the roof of my mouth, moving it in and out while I lay inactive. It wasn’t a kiss; a kiss takes two, requires a response, but he wouldn’t let me kiss him back. I had no word for what this was, except that it left me feeling rather like an inanimate object whose only purpose was to receive.
He was using me. As if I were a toy or doll. As if I weren’t even real.
It should have been bizarre. Instead it was hot, and I had no idea why. It was unlike anything anyone had done with me before. Hell, I’d never even heard of someone doing this to someone else.
“Don’t move.” He shoved his other hand under my ass cheek, squeezing, fingering my crack while he resumed tongue-fucking my mouth.
I wanted to move. I wanted to open my mouth and seal that kiss. I wanted to wriggle or writhe with his caresses on my ass, to push back and greet the finger that wedged itself in my crevice, then retreated. Just as frustration was on the verge of overwhelming the strange fascination that kept me still, he withdrew.
“Onto your stomach again.”
It was tempting to come back with something snappy and smart-assed now that he wasn’t menacing me with the notion of strangling, but I obeyed, my body reacting before my mind was fully on board. And what was that about? He was barely touching me and not allowing me to touch him at all . . . and I was permitting it.
I frowned, some of the weird passivity falling away. I was freshly infused, able to do just about anything. I wanted it all, wanted rough and wild, dangerous and scary and painful. I didn’t want a guy who thought he had to handle me like I was fragile. If that was what Robin thought he was going to do, I might as well stop.
The sound of Robin stripping rustled behind me, and then he rummaged in the bedside table. Something hit my hip. Lube and condoms, I thought. Something else clinked on the nightstand before Robin crawled onto the mattress beside me.
I debated whether to say something, to warn him that handling me delicately would torpedo this faster than anything. But I wanted to see where he intended to take this. I defied his admonition against moving long enough to fold my arms under my head and turn to watch the flicker of candlelight under the blindfold, my discontent building at this meticulous, almost disconnected encounter.
“Are you trying to look?” he asked, a note of censure in his voice, and he adjusted the blindfold, closing off even the sliver of light. I bit back an argument, thoroughly perplexed. If he was going to go all dom on me, surely he’d be doing it more roughly, so what the fuck was happening?
Troubled, I buried my head in my arms and tried to relax, tried to remember the arousal and fascination that had brought me this far. But inside, a voice was taunting that I’d known all along this was futile, that he could talk a good game, but in the end he wouldn’t have the balls to play the way I wanted to play.
Robin’s fingertips continued to explore me lightly, his lips trailing in their wake. His breath warmed my skin.
It didn’t feel unpleasant, but it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what he’d implied with his talk of safewords. After waiting several minutes for him to pick up the pace, I finally pushed myself up with a low growl of annoyance, ripping off the blindfold.
“If I wanted a safe, careful fuck,” I said, letting contempt hang on those hated words, “I wouldn’t have told you all that shit earlier.”
In an instant, his hand was on my throat once more, adding the smallest bit of pressure this time. He reached for the bedside table, and I saw something glint before his weight pressed me back down onto the mattress.
“You’re mistaking being in control for being careful.” His tone was stern. “If I want to take my time enjoying you, I’m going to take my fucking time. And you”—something hard, chilly, and flat whispered down my cheek toward my jaw, coming to a stop before it curved under to my neck—“are going to lie there and take it. Aren’t you?”
Fear congealed in my chest. I realized what he held an instant before he pulled it back far enough for me to get a glimpse. A knife. A large pocketknife. He caressed my cheek with the back of the blade, then let the very point rest against my skin.
“Aren’t you?”
My heart raced at a jackrabbit pace, my breath suddenly short and shallow. A cold sweat prickled along my skin. He was holding a knife to my face. A knife! What the fuck was he thinking? I wanted to throw him off and run away. I wanted to shoot out of that bed and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. I didn’t dare. Not with that knife touching me.
Then I understood why he was waiting for an answer.
Bodysuit.
I almost said it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue. My mind spun.
The very first night we met, there on the dance floor in the club, he’d asked me if I wanted danger. I had sighed wistfully and said I did. And I’d told him I wanted to be forced.
He was giving me exactly what I’d asked for; he was just doing it in a way I’d never come close to expecting.
“I can make you scream without ever leaving a mark.”
Now I knew how easily he could keep that promise.
Then I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life. Even in the midst of my terror—and it was terror, sharp and primal, filling my throat with the metallic tang of adrenaline and bunching all my muscles in the instinctive drive toward flight or fight—I was ready to hump the bed. I would have done so if I’d dared to move. Hard, throbbing, aching, I would have exploded at the smallest brush.
The blade of the knife had stolen the warmth from my skin, and he was still waiting for an acknowledgment. Swallowing, I whispered, “Yes.”
He caressed my cheek with the dull edge of the blade. “You gonna be good for me, baby? Or am I gonna have to hurt you?”
“I’ll be good.” I shuddered, my breath hitching. He laid the knife, still open, on the nightstand in front of my eyes, taunting me with it—or perhaps letting me know I had options if I really didn’t feel safe and couldn’t remember my safeword.
I stared at it, transfixed, while he pulled away. I was barely aware of his actions until his fingers slipped into the crack of my ass, dripping with lube. Then I moaned, my ass lifting, offering itself without my volition.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Robin snarled, and his index finger nudged at my well-loosened and slightly sore hole. With a sigh, I let my hips drop back onto the towels, my cock rubbing against a cool smear of pre-cum.
Then he wrapped the blindfold across my eyes and blocked out everything again.
Geoff
His hands were gone, and I heard a rustle and an ominously familiar crystalline clinking. “Wait—”
Before I could protest, though, a chilly drop of water splashed onto my taint, and he quickly pushed a melting ice cube into my ass.
“Oh fuck!” I yelped, my nerves having trouble deciding if I was being burned or frozen. I pushed myself up from the bed, ready to rip the blindfold off again and yell, but his hand between my shoulder blades forced me back down. “Stop—”
“Not yet,” he growled in my ear. “I haven’t gotten my money’s worth yet. But I damn well mean to. Don’t. Move.”
I could feel that fucking thing melting, sending confused impulses through my prostate, which sped along my nerves to my cock. Cool water pooled inside me, gradually warming and then mingling with more cool water as the ice continued to dissolve.
“Fuck,” I whispered, shivering. “Oh fuck.”
More clinking against the glass on the table, and then there was another ice cube—not up my ass, but rubbing lightly along my balls and perineum. I yelped again, this time more loudly, bucking without meaning to. If there was one positive thing to say, it was that my erection—which had been plaguing me since the introduction of the plug—disappeared. All organs indigenous to that particular region tried to shrivel up into my abdomen. I trembled as if I were standing outside, naked in a blizzard, damn nea
r quaking. Every part the ice touched became so cold it burned and ached, but never quite got cold enough to go completely numb.
The next ice cube trailed along my spine, melting in small rivulets that trickled down my ribs and waist. The one after that melted against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
“Jesus, stop. Please, stop.”
“What the client wants, the client gets.” He stroked another ice cube over my ass cheeks, and then one across my shoulders and even along the insides of my arms as I whimpered, not quite daring to try to get away. “I did warn you that there would be consequences for noncompliance, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—” I gasped as something freezing cold and heavy and much more substantial than an ice cube began to work its way into my wet ass. “Oh Christ! What the fuck is that?”
“Stainless steel.” I could hear the smirk in Robin’s voice. “Can be frozen, refrigerated, even dipped in or run under warm or hot water.”
And ridged too. I felt each bump pass through my sphincter, and oh Jesus it was freezing me from the inside out.
“Please, I can’t—”
“Would you like me to warm you up?”
“Please! Yes!” I panted, squirming, trying to get away from that relentless chill pervading me from the waist down.
“All right.” Robin wiped the water that had run off my back. I felt his hands on me and smelled . . . olive oil?
“Please, take it out.” I was damn near whining. The rational part of my mind knew that eventually the metal shaft would acquire the heat of my body and warm up, but I didn’t think I could bear its icy presence inside me, pressed against my prostate, long enough for that to happen. It was, after all, a substantial dildo, which meant it would be slow to heat up.
“Not yet. I have other ways of warming you.”
Robin’s hands were warm, smoothing the oil over my back, massaging lightly. But then they were gone. His weight left the bed, returning a moment later.
“I recommend you hold quite still.” I barely had an instant to shudder and go immobile before something hit my back. A plop at first, but the instant after it landed, it was hot enough to be startling. I don’t know if it cooled or if my nerve endings adapted, but the spot of heat quickly became bearable.
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