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“That's right,” he hisses in my ear and his fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back. “You're mine, any place, any time. And I'm going to remind you of that.”
He spits into his hands and then holds it under my mouth. I look at him, confused. “Spit,” he says. Thank fuck for that, for a moment there I thought he was going to make me lick it up. Which actually, oh no, is kinda hot.
grab him by the front of his top, cutting him off, and push him against the tree, switching our positions. His eyes, still heavy with his orgasm, widen as I kiss him hard.
This, this is something else. And it's something I don't want. Something I can't have. This feels too intimate.
Can he feel how hard my pulse is racing? I don't want him to know he has the power to make me react like this with something as stupidly pathetic as a fucking kiss. When he pulls away he's smiling that big dumb puppy dog smile, and his lips are wet and pink.
“I didn’t tell you to suck me off. Keep still. I just want to keep my cock warm with your mouth.”
“Earn it,” he says. “Fuck yourself with your fingers. I want to see you dripping in your cage.”
“You look so good like this Nolan, stretched out around my toy and begging for more.”
“I like you, Malcolm. OK? Like, a lot. I don’t know why, because you're always such an asshole to me. I guess I'm just dumb or something. But I do. And if you don’t want it to be more than it is then that’s fine, I won't push you. But that's all you had to say.”
