by Daryl Banner
His cock flexed again at those words, and he shut his eyes, as if the very idea humiliated him to admit out loud.
“That’s it. That’s what you want.” I grinned as I kept stroking his slick cock. “Now you gotta admit it. I need to be sure.”
“C’mon,” he groaned, red-faced and practically whimpering.
I loved pushing his buttons. It became my new favorite thrill. “Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me, James.”
Begrudgingly, he obeyed.
“And now admit it to my face.”
“I …” He sighed, then finally said it. “I want you to own it.”
“Own what?”
“My dick. I want to require your permission to … come.”
I grinned, continuing to slide my hand up and down his cock. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
“Fuuuck,” he hissed.
Then he grabbed my arms, clinging to them as I continued to slowly stroke him, knowing it was driving him crazy.
I leaned against him and put my lips to his ear, the same one I was kissing and tormenting just before we got in the shower. “You realize the tough little predicament you’re in now, right?”
He groaned in response.
“You’re right there on the edge, aren’t you, James? And now you’ve gone and given me full control of your orgasm. I get to say when—or if—you come. I decide. Not you.”
All he did was whimper, clutching me.
It was working. I was right on the money. This was really what he wanted. I couldn’t wipe the drunk-with-power grin off my face.
“Can’t speak anymore, can you?” I chuckled into his ear. “You are so fucked, James. You’ll be lucky to come once a week. Hell, once a month sounds sufficient for a wimpy little pet like you.”
“Oh, God …” he grunted.
Yeah, that was definitely doing it for him.
I let go of his cock right then and patted his cheek at the same time, startling him and making his eyes flap open.
“Shower time’s over,” I announced. “No coming for you. Keep it pent-up and ready for me. Next up on the agenda: you and I have a pizza in the kitchen that’s getting cold.”
James just stood there for a minute with his lips parted, his angry, swollen cock bobbing in front of him.
I twisted the shower knob, grabbed a towel off the rack, then pitched it at him. “Dry off,” I ordered him.
He did.
We were dried off, dressed, and eating pizza at the breakfast bar in a matter of minutes. It was evident the whole time we ate that James’s mind was stuck on the predicament in his pants. For some reason, I loved the idea that he was in that state because of me. In just the space of a day, I gained total and complete control of his sexual pleasure. I could keep him pent up as long as I dared.
As we chowed down on the pizza, I wondered if I should have mercy on him and jerk him off. But that drunken look in his eyes told me he was enjoying the torture. A part of me could understand drowning in the happy agony of anticipating something amazing. When I was just six or seven, my mom used to surprise me some Fridays after picking me up from school with a trip to a local sweets shop, and I’d get my pick of cookies and ice cream. I remembered squirming in my desk all day at school, excitedly planning which flavor I’d devour.
That was what James was doing: dreaming of the sweets shop.
I’m the sweets shop.
“I told the guys I’m not going with them this weekend,” he volunteered halfway through his second slice. “To the casinos.”
I spoke through a mouthful. “Feel like you’re missing out?”
He grinned. “Not at fucking all.”
I chuckled, then swallowed my bite. “What’d you tell them?”
“That I was ill with a case of blue balls,” James sassed back.
“Hmm.” I smirked coyly at him. “Sounds like a problem you might be stuck with for a long time.”
He froze, the pizza halfway to his mouth.
“A long, long time,” I added coolly.
To that, he groaned helplessly. Then I went for another bite of pizza, flippantly ignoring the look in his eyes that begged me for a mercy I knew, deep down, he didn’t truly want. At least not yet.
Why do I enjoy that fact so much?
After we ate, James took note of the grass stains still on my clothes even after washing. “You really have been hard at work here,” he murmured thoughtfully as he put away the leftovers into the fridge.
I smirked as I leaned back against the counter, watching him. “You had doubts?”
“Of course not.” He chuckled anxiously. Then an idea struck him as he shut the refrigerator door. “We should go shopping.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Shopping? This late?”
“Yeah. For clothes. Everything in town stays open late on the weekends. I need some new dress shirts for work anyway, and you’re probably tired of cycling through the clothes in your bag.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. I wasn’t going to take advantage of him, not when I knew how desperate he was to please me. “I’m fine with what I have.”
“No, really, it’s not a problem. You need …” He gave a quick gesture toward me, then toward the guest room, then slapped his hand to his hip where it stayed. “Clothes. Stuff. Stuff to make you feel more at home. Stuff to call your own.”
“Well, if you buy shit for me, it isn’t really my own, is it?”
“Of course it is. I’m gifting it to you.”
I eyed him. “James …”
“Hey, let me take care of you, remember?” He swiped his keys off the counter. “Besides, maybe I actually want to get you a thing or two you’ll look … sexy in.” His hungry eyes ran down my body, desire surging in them. “Which, I guess, is just about anything.”
I chuckled, then finally gave in. “Fine. I’m all yours.”
* * *
Minutes later, we were in his car driving into “downtown” Little Water, which wasn’t a damned thing like a big city. It was basically a small town. James mentioned that somewhere in there was the bank he worked at, the coffee shop one of his friends ran, and a clothing store that always carried discount designer clothes and had new shipments in every Friday afternoon.
That meant we were in luck.
After browsing around in the clothing store for a while, James found himself three new shirts and I found myself ten. Without even discussing it prior, we both dropped the whole I’m-in-charge dynamic in the store, both of us seeming to be on the same page about not playing out our whole “thing” in public.
At least, not yet.
I tried tons of things on while he perused the discount racks. Several times I would come out of the changing room for James’s opinion, and he’d approve, his eyes sliding down my body with appreciation as I tried on a handful of different outfits.
Yeah, part of me actually wanted his opinion, but most of the time I was just enjoying James’s adoring reaction.
He couldn’t get enough of me.
And I loved it.
Maybe I was addicted to the attention.
When I was trying on another shirt, I stared at myself in the mirror of the changing room and wondered if it really was just the power I enjoyed about this new dynamic between us. Did I only enjoy sticking around because of the feeling of power and worth and desire that he pumped into me? Was that really the reason I hadn’t hightailed it out of there already? It was totally possible to run, even out here in Little Water; just one flick of my thumb and I’d be catching a ride back to the beach.
Then I pictured shopping with anyone who wasn’t James.
I pictured living in that house with anyone who wasn’t James.
I tried to imagine doing what we did before we left the house with anyone else in the world who wasn’t James.
The man who fed me, brought me into his home, and cared for me all week long.
Staring at myself in that changing room mirror, I realized it was all abo
ut him. The power was meaningless on its own. It was James who made the power thrilling for me. It was all James.
Fuck, was I starting to really care about him, too?
That was the exact kind of attachment I was afraid of. It was the kind I avoided, because anytime I let someone get close to me, anytime I felt a connection with someone, everything fucked up, and they either abandoned me, or circumstances tore us apart.
“It’s not gonna happen,” I told my reflection. “Not this time.”
“What was that?” called out James from the other side of the changing room door.
James isn’t like all of the others, I told myself, opting not to make any more of my thoughts vocal. He isn’t going anywhere. James is the real deal.
I knew I was leaping headfirst.
I knew I was risking it all.
I knew I was going to damage myself irreversibly if this whole delicate arrangement went south.
But I also knew James was worth it.
“Lucas …?”
I slipped out of the room, presenting my latest outfit to James who waited outside the door.
He lifted his eyebrows and gave me an approving nod. “Really fits you.” James leaned one way, then the other. “Your ass seriously looks great in those,” he added in a whisper.
I smirked proudly. James made me feel good about myself. He was the first person in a long time—maybe ever—who made me feel like I was a human being worth a damn.
All this emotion better not turn me into a softy. Besides, if I truly wanted to pay him back for all his kindness, I’d better keep up the tough act I had going on.
“Hey, James.”
He fumbled with five of my shirts and a pair of pants he was holding on hangers. “Yeah?”
I leaned in close. Really close. “Don’t for a second think all this fuckin’ flattery is gonna convince me to let you come sooner. Your cock will be so pent-up over this weekend, you’re gonna be begging for that sweet release every night.”
James swallowed hard, his eyes having grown double.
I peeled off my shirt right in front of him, then slapped it on the pile he held. “I’ll take this one, too,” I said with a cocky smirk, then shut the door in his face to try on another.
Damn, my life is good.
Chapter 17
JAMES
When I got into bed, I was so exhausted from the day that I could have fallen asleep before even counting to ten.
That was, until Lucas decided to sneak into my room.
“Hey,” he mumbled softly at the door.
I sat up. “Hey,” I called back.
I noticed he was wearing nothing but a new pair of underwear we had gotten him at the store—a pair of black briefs that fit his shape perfectly, cupping his ass and crotch with perfect precision. We had washed everything as soon as we got home, and he went and organized all his new clothes into the closet and dresser drawers of his room. I loved everything about it, how it gave him a boost of confidence, how excited he was pretending not to be when he put away his new clothes, and how normal it already felt to have him there in my house, even if he was acting the role of a bossy, entitled shit half the time and making my cock mad.
But this was the first time he came into my room at night and actually made his presence known. Was something wrong? Did something happen? Was he finally about to express the deep, dark doubts that might have been living in him ever since he agreed to stay at my house?
“Do you mind if …” He didn’t finish.
When he stood there in my doorway, there wasn’t a trace of that expected authoritativeness in his tone. Instead, he sounded sweet. Timid, almost, even in spite of his deep, masculine voice.
I encouraged him. “Yeah? What do you need?”
He shrugged it off, for a second appearing like he had changed his mind and was going to head back to his room. Then he bit his lip, thought better of it, and faced me again. “You mind if I sleep in here?” He nodded toward my bed.
Seriously. As if I would ever in a million years say no.
He rolled his eyes. “But only if there’s, y’know, enough fuckin’ room in that bed for another person.”
There’s the expected Lucas charm. “Yeah. Of course.” I slapped the empty side of the bed. “Get on up in here.”
A microscopic look of relief crossed Lucas’s face, which he quickly hid as he stiffened his back and came the rest of the way into the room. The bed shook as he hopped onto it and gently slipped under the sheets with me in one swift motion. The pair of us settled into place, each of us on either side of the bed.
Then silence fell over the room, a silence filled only by the soft, subtle sounds of each of us breathing.
But neither of us slept.
“Just like in the hotel room,” I murmured into the silence.
Lucas turned his face. “Huh?”
“The hotel room.” I turned mine toward his. “Y’know. Lying next to each other. In the hotel room.”
“Oh. Right.”
Then we looked back up at the ceiling. Silence fell over us like a second set of bed sheets, warm and heavy. A gentle night breeze swept by outside, the bushes softly tapping the glass in response.
“Should be used to it by now,” he mumbled.
“Yeah. Been sleeping next to each other every night now.”
“Guess I’m comfortable around you or some shit,” he grunted.
“Me too,” I said back, then we both fell into silence again.
Shadows from one of the bushes outside danced along the vaulted ceiling, looking like long ethereal fingers playing a piano. They’re playing Nocturne No. 15 in F Minor, I decided.
He spoke again. “I’m not comfortable around a lot of people.”
I gave a tight-lipped smile into the dark. “Me neither. Well, except for my buddies, I guess. Who should be at the Royal Flush Hotel by now living it up.”
“You’ve been friends with them for long?”
I shrugged. “I went to high school with Duncan, so I’ve known him the longest. I met Quinton in college, who now runs a coffee place that is known for having served a past president. Clinton or Bush, I don’t remember which. Quinton and I had the craziest idea several years ago to set up our older siblings together, so now his older brother’s my brother-in-law. Lewis is the security guard at my bank, who I obviously met there years ago. We hit it off. First several times we came to the casino, it was just me and Duncan, and sometimes Quinton and his brother, too. Then after my sister and—Are you following all this?”
“Yep.”
“After my sister and Quinton’s brother married, it was just the three of us hitting the casinos once or twice a month. Then Lewis was all, ‘You gotta get me in on your casino weekends. I need a break from the wife.’ That was before his little girl was born. Now it’s the four of us every other weekend or so.” I let out a sigh. “I’m surprised they didn’t give me shit about canceling.”
“Why did you cancel? You could’ve gone.”
I scrunched up my face. “You kidding me? I have no need or desire to go. And you’re right here. You and I can hang out. Or do something fun. Whatever we want to do, really.” I gave it a bit of thought. “I mean … I’m assuming, of course, that you didn’t want to go back to that grimy-ass beach town.”
“That grimy-ass beach town I used to call home.”
I nodded slowly, the cotton of the pillowcase behind my head hissing softly as I did. Then I stopped. “I mean, no offense.”
“None taken,” Lucas grumbled. “Fuck that beach town.”
“Fuck that beach town.”
The shadows continued to play as the silence swelled around us again. After a while, Lucas shifted slightly in the bed and turned his face toward mine. “Saturday night.”
“Hmm?”
“You said the last time you came was Saturday night.”
My stomach did a flip. “Uh … right. Saturday night.”
“When?” He was trying to work it out in
his head. “I was with you that whole night. When did you have time to rub one out?”
Really? He’s going to pretend he really wasn’t awake for all of that?
He pressed on: “Did you sneak away at some point?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, did you sneak away from me in the arcade and blow a wad behind Pac-Man or some shit?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Would he even believe me if I told him the truth? Was it that big a deal anymore, especially considering what already transpired between us that afternoon?
“So? You gonna hold out on me, James?”
“No. It’s just …” I wrinkled up my face with a sudden thought. Was he messing with me again? I turned my head partway toward him and decided to call him out. “You know what? I think you know damned well what happened that night.”
He frowned at me. “The hell you talking about?”
I blinked. Was he seriously unaware? After studying his face a bit longer, I decided to have it out. “It … was actually early Sunday morning. About three in the morning, to be precise. And you—”
“You got out of bed and got off in the hotel bathroom?”
“Well, actually …” I winced. “I was still in the bed.”
Lucas gawked at me. “You fucking kidding me? You wanked off while I was lying in that bed next to you??”
I propped myself up on my good elbow. I was going to enjoy the look on his face when I told him what he did in his dreams. “For a while, I almost thought that you were doing it deliberately, but your eyes were closed. And yet you were sooo into it …”
“Wait a sec. Me? What about me?”
“You were humping me in your sleep.”
A moment passed where neither of us moved. Then suddenly, Lucas burst out laughing, shaking his head. “No way!” he cried out between his laughs. “No fucking way! I don’t believe it! Nope!”
“You had your arm around me, too,” I went on. “And you—”
That made him laugh even harder. He couldn’t stop laughing. He was practically dancing on the bed, wrestling with his laughs.
“And … you were feeling me up. While humping my ass.”
He turned to me with tears of laughter twinkling in his eyes, then drew quiet as he studied my face and caught his breath. “You really aren’t dicking with me, huh? That all actually happened?”