by Daryl Banner
And I could handle what was in my mouth.
And I wanted Lucas to feel even a pinch of the ecstasy I felt.
His thrusts grew more forceful. He was pumping my face so hard, I would have gripped his thighs to keep myself balanced if I had the use of my hands. I realized he was getting close already.
Then he pulled his cock out abruptly, pushed himself off the window, and started jerking right in front of my face.
I gaped, watching him choke his meat in front of my eyes.
When his free hand gripped my hair suddenly and tugged my head back, my face forced upward toward his, I gasped, taken aback by his gruff change of demeanor.
I was his toy to use. I was his plaything. I was his.
Lucas stared down at me as he jerked off feverishly. His stare was so intense, it made my own heart race as if I was stroking my own cock—which of course I wasn’t, since the poor guy was still very much cramped up in my pants, neglected utterly.
The lustful smirk on Lucas’s face was eclipsed by his big cock and his hand jerking it with vigor in front of my eyes. He tilted his head to the side as he bore his eyes into mine. “Tell me, James. When was the last time you got a facial?”
I barely heard the question. “Wh-What?”
And then he came.
He shot in ropes and droplets all over my face. I shut my eyes as it rained. A drop landed on my lip. A stream landed up along my forehead. Another on my nose. Some of it in my hair. A bit on my chin. It never seemed to end as his cock gushed and gushed.
When he finished, he was panting, his hand still gripping his cock, though he’d stopped stroking. He looked down on me with a broad smile, then moaned with relief as he threw back his head.
Somehow, his orgasm felt like my own. I was still very hard—achingly so—but felt so damned happy he’d gotten off that I didn’t care. I stared up at his cock (which was still hard and bobbing from his pulse) and at his spread of abs and pecs. He was looking up at the ceiling, a drunken smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Did you enjoy that as much as I did?” I asked with a teasing tone of voice.
At that, he actually laughed. “You fucking bet I did,” he called back to me, his abs flexing with his effort of speech and his voice, booming. “Shit, man, I really needed that.”
“Me, too,” I confessed as a drop of his spunk dripped from my chin and landed on the floor.
He looked back down at me with a cocky, lopsided smile. “You look hilarious with all my jizz hanging off your face, by the way.”
Just then, a digital screech rang through the house.
My eyes went wide. It was the doorbell.
But Lucas didn’t look fazed in the least. He simply stuffed his dick away and pulled his shorts right up. “Stay on your knees,” he ordered the moment I made a move to stand up—despite my look of protest—then continued on his way toward the door.
Oh, shit. Lucas was actually going to answer my door.
What the fuck?
Still kneeling by the back glass windows with my hands bound at my back by my own tie and a face covered in his “jizz”, I was in perfect view of the front entryway as Lucas unlocked and swung the door open. A guy in a maroon polo and black slacks was on the other side with a box of pizza in his hand. There was an exchange of words, and then Lucas fished some money out of his back pocket—the cash I’d left him that morning, I had to assume, since I left him money for lunch every morning—and paid the delivery guy. The two of them gave a brief glance in my direction, looked at each other, then chuckled like I was the butt to an inside joke between them. The pizza boy walked off, and Lucas slapped the door shut, bringing the big box of pizza to the kitchen counter.
And I still knelt by the window like an idiot.
With his stuff all over my face.
And chin.
And cheeks.
And in my hair.
“Smells fucking great,” sang Lucas. Then he peeked over his shoulder at me. “Hey. You want some pizza?”
I quirked an eyebrow. Was he serious? Or was he taunting me for the degrading position he had me in? “I, uh … should probably wash up first, unless you’re expecting me to enjoy my pepperoni with a side of …” I nodded to indicate my own face. “… you.”
“You wanna shower first?” he offered instantly.
It was like getting the sweet with the spicy. Just moments ago, he was a dominant alpha male who put me at his feet, all fire and orders, hands tied up and kneeling.
Now, he might as well have turned into my sweet and loving boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
He’s not and will never be your boyfriend, I told myself.
And yet there he was, a guy who still hadn’t run away from me. A guy who seemed happy and perfectly at home working on my lawn like a pet project all week. A guy who’d already made friends with my stone-hearted neighbors. A guy who actually smiled when he looked at me. A guy who made my heart gallop.
A guy who climbs into bed with me at night—every night.
“Dude.” His voice went flat. “I am literally watching my jizz drying on your face. And I can still smell my sweaty funk. So you wanna shower first or not?”
I smiled. There’s the Lucky I know. “Let’s do it,” I answered.
Chapter 16
LUCKY
James was all about showering first before we ate.
He didn’t realize I meant showering together.
“What’s the big deal?” I asked him as we stood in his stupidly big bathroom in front of the glass doors of his stupidly big shower. “We just had, like, an intimate moment and shit. You saw me all naked. It’s just a shower.”
He seemed to find that hilarious. “Uh, right. And there’s no difference between a body like yours,” he said with a gesture at me, “and a body like mine. You have the … right to be confident. Clearly. I don’t have the same luxury of God-given beauty.”
I was surprised by his insecurity. “But you have a great body.”
He snorted. “Says the one who looks like a demigod.”
“Demigod?”
“And I wouldn’t say I’ve seen you naked, per se,” he continued on. “I just saw your junk. In my face. That’s it. We’re talking … full clothes off and everything.”
I came right up to him and put my hands on his shoulders. He shut right up and looked into my eyes.
I cocked my head, peering down at his belt. He was still all dressed up from work with only his tie, shoes, and socks removed.
Chasing an instinct, I reached for his belt, undoing the buckle.
He put a hand on mine, stopping me. “Lucas …”
“What?”
“I’m still … dirty.”
He already cleaned off his face. He was making up excuses.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “Let me take care of you.”
“Lucas …”
The belt came off. Then I undid his button. His pants opened.
“Luke …” His little protests were losing strength. I could feel his heart racing.
He wanted me to keep touching him.
Leaving his pants alone, I went for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, I undid the buttons, revealing his white undershirt underneath. He shifted as I pulled the dress shirt off, the sleeves sliding down his arms. Then I gripped the base of his undershirt.
“Look at me.”
James’s eyes snapped up to mine, momentarily pulled from the sensual stupor he was in.
“Theeere you are,” I sang. “Arms up.”
He lifted his arms.
I pulled the white shirt up, slowly revealing his body to me. I will just say it outright: James had absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about. Just like the time I saw his bare back in the hotel room, his front was just as broad and shapely. There was clear evidence of his workouts, from how thick his chest muscles were to the subtle, barely there ridges that ran down his stomach. He had a softer muscular build to him, like he might’ve had a harder b
ody when he was my age, but the years softened him. His chest was dusted with a patch of hair that trickled down his middle, gathering a bit at his bellybutton, and then disappearing down into the top of his underwear, which I would have him out of soon.
Exploring James’s body was even more intimate than having my cock pumping his throat. It was just the two of us in that warm and spacious bathroom. The rest of the world could fuck off.
I pitched the white shirt aside, forgotten, as my eyes drank in his broad shoulders and torso. I ran a hand lazily down his body until my fingers hooked into his pants, then gave them a tug.
Down they went.
Now James stood before me in his underwear—his final piece of dignity, the last scrap of fabric on his entire body. His breaths were slow, paced, and made his chest rise and fall.
He was hard as fuck in those briefs of his. There was no way he could hide that obscene, engorged erection from me.
Not that I was going to do anything with it yet. If James had taught me anything, it was that he liked being driven crazy. Our little scene a moment ago against that back window gave me all the confidence I needed. James was at my complete mercy.
But I felt a different instinct right then. Maybe it was because I came already. Maybe it was due to the fact that James was about to be exposed for the first time in front of me.
I felt less mischievous, more tender.
Instead of pulling his underwear right off, I stepped up to his body, our chests touching, then put my face in his neck to plant a kiss. He froze under my touch, his hard breath crashing out against my chest. I kissed again, drawing a path of kisses that led to his jawbone, then up to the back of his ear.
His jagged breaths accelerated. He didn’t dare move a muscle.
With my lips caressing his cheek, my fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear, then gently pulled down. It took very little effort before they dropped to his ankles all on their own.
James’s swollen, rock hard cock slapped against me, freed.
My hands slipped around his body, palms gluing themselves to his bare ass cheeks. He had a soft yet well-formed butt that really filled out his pants. It turned me on so damned much, how his cheeks seemed to pour right into my hands.
I pulled away, gave his butt a swat, then said, “Shower time.”
He popped open his eyes and stared up at me incredulously, his mouth parted with all his unspoken protests.
To his stunned expression, I only grinned, then dropped my shorts and underwear at once, kicked them away, and slid straight into his shower. The spouts soon sprayed gloriously warm water, and my skin drank it all in.
James was behind me in no time, taking in the water from the other spout. Yeah, his shower was so big, there was literally more than one showerhead. I could have lay down on the tile with all my limbs stretched out and still not touched the perimeter.
After lathering up my pits with the bar of soap, I slapped it onto James’s palm with a goofy grin. He smirked at me, then shook his head and broke into a smile as he started washing himself.
The tension between us seemed to ease after that. That is, the tension of being buck naked in front of each other. Not the sexual tension. That shit was permanently pulled taut as a wire and ready to snap at any moment.
It was strangely comforting, taking a shower with someone. Or more specifically: with James. I hadn’t been this intimate and opened up with anyone, ever. I felt so human when I was around him. Yes, I do realize the irony of that statement after putting him on his knees and having him take a faceful of my spunk.
“I didn’t go too far?” I asked as I just stood there letting the water run over my body. His shower had the most amazing water pressure, drumming on me in clean, crisp, perfectly-spaced jets. We were definitely taking our time in there.
James stared at my chest when he spoke. “You mean the …?”
“Yeah. That.”
He smiled almost shyly. “No. Wasn’t too far at all. Not at all. I enjoyed it a lot, actually.”
“You didn’t even get off,” I pointed out.
“I didn’t have to. I still enjoyed it. I mean …” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “I mean, it’s nice to come. Don’t get me wrong. But when I get in the zone, and I’m all caught up in the fantasy of being objectified, or ordered around, or demeaned and humiliated … it isn’t about the sex at all.”
That part, I didn’t quite understand. “But we were intimate. You had my dick halfway down your throat. I came all over your face. Please explain to me how that ‘isn’t about the sex at all’.”
“Well, that’s sexual, yeah. But …” He looked upward, gathering the words. “But … the real part of it that fulfills me is the authority you hold over me. Giving up control to a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?”
“Yeah. Someone strong. Someone … good-looking. Someone who’s confident. Maybe too confident,” he added with a smirk.
I snorted and shook my head. “I’m not always this cocksure.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t really want to dig up demons from my closet, so I decided not to be too specific. “You know, when I had to fend for myself on the streets, I kinda had to … know when to humble myself. You gotta know when to hang your head. Know when to … not fight for something that’s yours … or something that’s right. Cockiness can kill on the streets.” Those words echoed in my head, the same words of warning I gave Kelsey. I hoped she was okay.
I noticed James slowly nodding through the steam.
That brought my attention back to him. “So you’re okay with not getting off?” I asked uncertainly. “Like, you’re totally fine with the fact that I blew a load all over your whimpering face—”
“I wasn’t whimpering.”
“—and you still haven’t gotten off since … when?”
“Saturday night.” He shrugged.
I gaped. “Saturday night? As in … last weekend??”
“Yep.”
“Dude. That’s six days. I’d die if I hadn’t come in six days.”
He snorted at that and shook his head. “You’re nineteen. Your body is basically a horny machine overflowing with hormones.”
“That’s fucking crazy. Why haven’t you beaten off all week?”
“Well, you’ve been here, for one. I wouldn’t do it at the bank.”
“I don’t get how you aren’t jerking yourself off right now.”
He bit his lip under the water, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s my thing. My alpha male fantasy. Your dominance. I really don’t know, Lucas. It’s just less about the ‘getting off’ to me and more about … everything else.” With that, he returned his gaze to me.
“Everything else,” I echoed, trying to follow. “It’s less about the destination. More about the journey.”
“Yep. Even if the journey is six whooole days long.”
I chuckled, then glanced down at his cock, which still hadn’t gone totally soft. Maybe I needed to test him, just to be sure. Still nurturing a stroke of mischief in me, I closed the distance between our bodies with two steps, then grabbed hold of his wet semi.
He froze up instantly at my touch.
I held his junk tightly. “You’re telling me if we keep messing around like we just did—me in charge, you on your knees …”
“Not necessarily my knees,” he grunted.
I shrugged. “On your knees, tied to the bed, flat on the floor, whatever I want. If we play like that, mess around for a long while, work you up, and I get off whenever I want … and you don’t always come … you’re fine with that? That’s actually okay with you?”
He seemed to have become hesitant suddenly, even after all that talk. I guess it was a whole other story when I squeezed his half-erect precious dick in my unforgiving fist.
“Y-Yeah,” he finally croaked.
“Yeah?” I was really testing him. I wanted to be sure it wasn’t just his dick talking. I needed to know that it was what
he wanted. “You like that, huh? The torment? The agony? The anticipation?”
“Well,” he went on, “I … I mean, yes, of course it’s always nice to … climax. I obviously enjoy it. It’s a big release. I love it. But I’d probably enjoy it a whole lot more if … uh …” He nodded toward me uncertainly, water dripping from the tips of his wet hair.
I had an idea where he was going. I slowly started to stroke his slick, wet cock. “You want me to be the one to get you off …?”
He moaned, shutting his eyes as I stroked him slowly.
Then I stopped. He flapped open his eyes.
“Well … yes,” he mumbled, “but … um …” He squirmed a bit.
I tilted my head. “But you meant something else? Hmm.” I resumed jerking his cock again. He shut his eyes and slumped against the shower wall, succumbing utterly to the pleasure of my slow and patient strokes. My hand was obviously working some kind of magic on this poor guy, which I found oddly empowering. James was so damned easy to please. “So you would enjoy coming a lot more if …” I was shooting in the dark. “… if I sucked you off?”
Just saying that made his cock—now rock hard—flex between my squeezing, cruel fingers.
“Biiingo,” I growled.
“A-Actually, still not quite.”
I squinted in disbelief at him. “Really? C’mon, James. Tell me. Obviously you like getting blue-balled.”
“Mmph,” he groaned as I continued slowly, cruelly stroking his cock. “Yes and no. Not exactly. Mmph …”
“So? What is it?”
“Well, you know I like when you’re in control …”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I enjoy … handing over that control to you. Y’know, when you’re calling all the shots. When you’re totally in charge. Doing all that bossy stuff you’re apparently a total natural at.”
That was when I realized where he was going all along. “You don’t want to come without my permission.”
