I’m not into orgasm denial. Quite the opposite, really—I’m into orgasm granting, as frequently as possible. But something about his statement rippled through me, leaving me feeling trembly and hot. It wasn’t that I wanted to be denied an orgasm, but…I liked the idea of that being in his hands. The sure and certain knowledge that when and how I got to come was entirely at his whim.
I took a slow, measured sip of my drink and set it back down. “Okay.”
“Good boy,” he murmured.
My cock throbbed so hard it almost hurt, and my cheeks flared red-hot, the fucking traitors. Of all the things he’d said tonight, how was that the one doing it for me?
Before I had a chance to analyze myself, the waiter reappeared. “Can I get you two any food tonight?”
Ellison’s fingers walked down the page of the menu neither of us had looked at. “Did you want anything?” he asked me, casual and conversational, like he hadn’t just praised me like a dog who’d done a cute trick.
“No,” I croaked, “I’m not hungry.”
“Not even an appetizer? The stuffed peppers here are great.”
“I’m really, really fine,” I said through lightly gritted teeth.
“Hmm…” Ellison’s eyes wandered over the menu while I quietly vibrated with rage and sexual tension. Was he seriously about to order food and make me wait even longer? After all that? And I couldn’t even drown my sorrows in another drink. Finally he looked up again. “No, I think we’re ready for the check.”
Oh, thank god.
Fortune was smiling on me tonight, because the waiter returned in about a minute with the check. Ellison whipped out his card and handed it back before I could finish digging my wallet out of my jeans. “I would’ve been fine with splitting it,” I said with a sigh as I tucked my wallet back into place.
“I prefer not to.”
“Is this some kind of subtle dominance thing?”
“A bit,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “Does it bother you?”
I shrugged. “A little. It’s just a few dollars, though—if it makes you happy, it’s no skin off my back.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he leaned back again to watch me as I took another sip of my drink and tried not to think about his eyes. The waiter came back with the receipt to sign, and I tried to get a glimpse of the tip Ellison left, but I couldn’t quite see. It was probably obscenely large; he seemed like that kind of guy.
“Am I allowed to finish this now, your highness?” I said, rattling the ice in my glass.
“Of course,” he said, then the corners of his mouth turned up. “But call me ‘sir.’”
Rather than stammer some awkward reply, I sucked down the last of my drink in one pull, drawing in a long breath when I finished. I did get a minor brain freeze at the end of it, but I held myself together well enough not to let on. At least, I hoped I did.
We left the restaurant without exchanging any more words, and I had to do a bunch of shirt-shifting and awkward hand positioning to hide my hard-on and the damp spot in my pants—they were dark enough that it probably wasn’t going to show anyway, but I wasn’t taking any chances that someone was paying attention after that whole face-touching thing.
I followed him to the parking structure we’d both parked in, and I caught him scoping out the surroundings like he was casing the joint for a robbery. “What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly on edge. This wasn’t exactly a rough part of town, but his inspection of the place made me wonder if he’d picked up on some element of danger I’d missed because I was too distracted by my dick.
“Nothing’s wrong. This is my car.”
Before my brain had even processed his words, Ellison balled his fist in my shirt and dragged me around to the side of the car, shoving me against the rear door hard enough to push the air from my lungs in a quick whoosh.
“You wanted me to touch you, didn’t you?” he said, flattening his hand on my chest and pressing me against the car, trapping me between the hot weight of his palm and the cool metal at my back. His other hand slid down to cup my cock, and I arched shamelessly into his touch. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Y-yes, but—I wasn’t—” I gasped sharply as he squeezed my cock, rasping his thumb over the head through the damp fabric. “Not here.”
“Why not?” He gave me another squeeze, and I bit back a moan.
“There’s…people.”
He looked around, exaggerating the back-and-forth movement of his head. “Nobody here but us.”
“And cameras.”
His hand came off my chest and grabbed me by the chin, angling my face up. “Camera’s not pointing at us. See?” Sure enough, the security camera was angled away from us, pointing down the center of the aisle. He stroked my cock again, and this time I let the moan come—quietly, of course, but enough for him to hear.
Ellison released my chin and slid his hand down to my throat, not grabbing or squeezing, just resting it there, his finger and thumb resting on sides. I felt my pulse beating hot and strong against his fingers, and a shudder went through my whole body.
“How do you feel right now?” he murmured, his breath hot on my ear.
“I don’t—I—trapped.” I writhed against him, grinding my cock against his hand. “Horny as fuck.”
“Trapped?” His voice was light with mock curiosity. “You’re bigger than I am—taller, almost certainly stronger. You could push me away and leave right now. You don’t have to let me do this.” He squeezed my neck ever so slightly, and my heart sped faster, my head rushing.
“I don’t, but—” Another moan slid out of me as he squeezed my cock again. “I just—”
“Just what?”
“I want you to.” The words rushed out of me, thick and heavy with truth. “If I stop you, you won’t let me come.”
“That’s right.” The approval in his voice was unmistakable, and it settled some of the buzzing in my veins. His hand moved to my cheek again, stroking it softly. “Good boy.”
I pinched my eyes shut, turning my face toward his hand as if I could hide in it. A strangled whimper came from my throat.
“You don’t like that? Being told you’re a good boy?”
“It’s weird,” I mumbled against his skin. “Childish. Embarrassing.”
“Would you rather hear what a dirty slut you are, all hard and wet for me?”
I pressed my face harder into his hand. “No, I—I just—”
“You just what?”
“I just want you to let me come. Please.”
His hand drew back from my face and struck me sharply on the cheek, the sound of it ringing through the parking structure. It wasn’t a hard slap, barely a sting at all, but my eyes flew wide open, my mouth locked in an O of shock. Ellison was there in front of me, his eyes glittering as they pierced me to the bone. “Please what?”
Everything was foggy, my brain stuck in neutral and spinning uselessly. I stammered—not even words, just broken syllables—trying to dredge up the meaning behind his words, the mystery contained in them when I put them one after the other.
“Please what?” Another slap, this one a little harder; my cock throbbed in response.
Then I remembered. “Please, sir,” I rasped, my throat tight and dry from my quickened breath.
“Much better.” His voice was a pleased rumble that settled right down into my bones, syrupy-warm and soft. He stepped back, releasing me, and I nearly slid down the side of his car; I managed to catch myself before my knees buckled entirely, but it was a close thing. “Get on your knees.”
I blinked at him. He couldn’t possibly mean it—right here in the middle of the parking garage? But yes, he was already unbuckling his belt with sure fingers, smooth and methodical and entirely unhurried. He paused for a second and nodded toward the ground at his feet, his face deadly serious. I swallowed, glanced quickly around to be sure there weren’t any people nearby, and gave in to the inevitable.
I lowered myself to my knees.
>
The concrete floor was hard and uncomfortable under my knees, and I tried my best not to think about what kind of grit or oil stains I might be grinding into my pants. It was surprisingly easy to forget about, because an instant later Ellison had his cock out, and he was guiding it to my mouth before I could even get a good look at it. What I did manage to see was pretty appealing, though—smooth and dark and just thick enough that I could imagine the way it would fill me up without having to worry about doing an hour of painstaking prep beforehand.
I opened my mouth eagerly for him, and the salty tang of his precum when he slipped inside nearly made me come right there. I moaned around his length, reaching up to wrap my fingers around the base so I could pump him in time with my sucking. But before I could get started, he grabbed hold of my wrists and moved my hands to rest on the sides of his thighs. “Keep them there,” he said as he slid his hand to the back of my head and started moving his hips, thrusting slowly and steadily into my mouth.
I’d never given a blowjob quite like this, and not just because it was in the middle of a parking garage (and god, I couldn’t believe I was doing that). I’d never been so passive—fully present but not exactly participating. My partners’ reactions were one of my favorite things about sex, and I loved using all my skill to take them apart with fingers and tongue. Here, though, I was just a receptacle, a handy hole for Ellison to fuck. As degrading as it was, some part of me was…kind of liking it, actually.
Ellison’s fingers on the back of my head were starting to drive me crazy, though; my fingers twitched, and I swore silently at myself for having such weird hang-ups. The movement must have reminded him—a moment later his hand slid up the back of my head to fist in my hair, holding my head still with gentle pressure. “Just relax,” he murmured.
Now that I was free from the prickling urge to touch my hair, I could do as he said. My body eased into it, my chest dropping and my neck stretching so he could slide a little deeper. His cock was hot and smooth against my tongue, tasting of sweat and clean skin and salty arousal. Every thrust drew a soft moan out of me as I savored the thickness of it, the weight on my tongue as he filled my mouth.
The head of his cock nudged against the back of my throat, and I responded instantly, stretching a little farther and letting my muscles relax. “That’s it,” I heard him whisper, low and rough, and on the next thrust he slid fully into my throat. My air supply was cut off entirely, but the quiet moan I heard rumble up from his chest could have sustained me for years. That sound was because of me, for me.
Ellison abandoned the measured, deliberate pace and fucked into me with short, stabbing thrusts that made me gag and sent tears streaming from my eyes. The muscles of his thighs quivered under my fingers, and I could tell he was close even before I heard how ragged his voice was. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasped, and my heart soared at the sound of it. I tried to imagine how I must look to him, face red, cheeks streaked with tears, mouth stretched wide around his cock. It must’ve been like something right out of a porno. I opened my eyes to look up at him, but he wasn’t even looking at me—his eyes were looking off in the distance, keeping a sharp watch for anyone who might stumble upon us.
Which, you know, I guess I was glad for…but I still wished he would look at me.
“I’m going to come down your throat,” he growled at me, loosening his grip on my hair for an instant. Distantly, I realized he was giving me the chance to pull away, but the thought of losing the thrilling sensation of his cock in me nearly made me sob with loss; I pressed forward as much as I could, my nose buried in the light smattering of hair on his lower belly.
His fist tightened in my hair again, his cock swelled in my mouth, and I felt him coming in long, hot pulses, so deep I couldn’t even taste him. I would have moaned if I’d had the air for it; as it was, I could only tighten my grip on his thighs and try to pull him closer to me.
Too soon, though, he was pulling out, leaving a wet smear on my cheek and a drip of cum on my lower lip. I gasped and coughed, not ready for the sudden emptiness as he quickly tucked his softening cock back into his pants and buttoned himself up. My stomach dropped as fresh tears threatened to rise to my eyes—why was he so distant? What had happened to “you’re perfect?”
Then I realized why he’d pulled away so quickly: the sharp click-click of heels echoed through the parking garage, so close I could hardly believe I’d missed them before. Someone was coming.
I started to struggle to my feet, but Ellison’s hand pressed heavily on my shoulder. “Stay there,” he whispered, and I was too stunned to do anything but obey.
I couldn’t tell what was going on—I was facing the wall, my back to any possible onlookers. Only Ellison could see, his hand still steady on my shoulder. The steps were so close now they had to be right behind us, but I could barely hear them over the pounding thrum of blood in my ears.
“Hey, um,” a woman’s voice said, hesitant, “is everything okay over there?”
“Oh yeah, no worries,” Ellison said, his voice easy and casual, so light it didn’t even sound like him. “He’s just had one too many. He’ll be fine in a minute.” My throat spasmed again and I coughed, lending more believability to his words.
Another woman laughed. “Been there, done that. Want us to bring you some water or something?”
“I’ve got some in the car, but thanks for the offer. We’re really all right—don’t worry about us.”
“Okay,” the first woman said, “take care.”
“Feel better soon!” the second added, and then the footsteps receded, echoing off into the distance.
“Oh my god,” I groaned softly, holding my head. “I can’t believe that just happened. I would’ve died.”
Ellison let out a quiet chuckle. “Don’t worry, they had no idea. Just stay where you are until they’re gone.”
So I did. I kept kneeling there, staring at the concrete wall of the parking garage while Ellison rubbed small circles over my shoulders with a warm, firm hand. The glow of headlights swept slowly across the wall as a car rumbled past us, and a few moments later the garage was silent again.
Ellison helped me to my feet, and I leaned back heavily against his car with another groan. He chuckled, and I watched through narrowed eyes as a grin curled his lips and he brought his thumb up to my lip, wiping away the dampness still lingering there. “Look at you. Filthy and debauched. I think you deserve a reward for all that.”
“How about sex in an actual bed behind closed doors? I think that’s a good reward.”
“Turn around.”
“Oh, come on! After we just—”
“Turn.” He circled his finger slowly in the air. “Around.”
And the worst thing was, somehow my cock hadn’t gotten the message about the whole “we almost got found out” thing, because the firm, gravelly rumble of his voice was enough to have me hard and straining again just from the sound of it. I pinched my eyes shut and did as he said, planting my hands on the roof of the car. “There,” I said, defeated. “Happy?”
I felt him hot at my back, his body pressed against mine and his breath blowing across the back of my neck. “Very.” The puff of air against my skin made me shiver.
He wasn’t lingering anymore, wasn’t teasing and tormenting me—he just unfastened my pants with deft hands and pulled my aching cock out, giving it a firm squeeze as he did. I gasped, my knees trembling. After spending so long thoroughly worked up, every little touch was enough to drive me mad.
He held his hand in front of my face, palm up. “Spit,” he said—it could hardly even be called an order, because it was delivered with such calm assurance, like there was no question in his mind that I’d do as he said.
I did, of course. Not that I even needed to—I was already drenched in precum.
When he gripped me again, slick and tight, my head fell forward from the relief of it, my forehead thunking softly against the cool metal of the car. “Fuck yes,” I hissed as he starte
d up a steady rhythm, pumping my cock fast and firm and just the way I wanted it.
My legs shook, my hips jerking in tiny half-thrusts into his hand as my breath came fast and shallow with the pleasure rapidly spiraling up in me. His free hand slid up my chest and came to rest against my throat, fingers against the pressure points but resting lightly. A threat, a promise—I had no idea, but I loved feeling him there, holding me where I was most vulnerable while I shuddered and gasped for him.
“You’re going to come for me, River.”
My orgasm hit with all the inevitability of a load of bricks crashing to the ground—I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. I bit my lip and turned my face into my arm to muffle the sounds that threatened to pour out of me as my cock throbbed in his hand, spilling hot and hard all over the side of his car. He pumped me through it, both hands firmly in place as he milked every drop out of me. It was rough and fast—a brutal wave of pleasure that ripped through me and left me scrubbed-out and empty, my lungs burning and dark spots flashing in my eyes.
When he released me, I sagged against the car, too worn-out to bother trying to put myself back together. If someone came by, they’d just have to live with seeing a guy who’d just jizzed all over his date’s car. I was done caring.
I heard the click of the car door and a rustling sound, and Ellison returned to press a packet of tissues into my hand. “You made a mess on my car,” he said pointedly.
The sound I made was half groan, half sigh; I used a tissue to wipe off and tucked myself back into my pants before I crouched down to mop up the mess I’d left on his rear door. This was probably supposed to be another dominance thing, but now that I’d come, the thrill of being at Ellison’s mercy had faded into the background, leaving me with only mundane garden-variety shame as I mopped up spatters of my own cum.
I straightened back up, knees creaking, and Ellison held out a bag for me to drop the soiled tissues in. After that, I was lost. This situation went so far past any knowledge I had of date etiquette that I may as well have been in another country and speaking Martian. Were we done here? Should I invite him back to my place? Should I beg him to invite me back to his? Honestly, he would probably get off on that regardless, and I couldn’t figure out if that made me more or less interested in doing it.
Truth By His Hand Page 8
