Page 56 of For Real

He throws back his head and groans. And, just like that, the muscles of his thigh yield to my pressure, and I clip the last chain into place, spreading him wide.

And holy shit, he looks amazing. Like a butterfly on a collector’s tray, completely exposed. His knuckles are white, his arms shaking with the strain of not moving, and his sweat-gilded chest heaving with these deep, desperate breaths. He’s got his head buried into his upper arm, like he can’t bear to think about what I’ve done to him.

What he’s letting me do.

Because he could let go of the rail, sit up, and free himself in like…a second.

But he doesn’t. He just shakes and hides his face because he can’t hide anything else from me like this. I lean in and run my tongue all the way up his glistening, rock-hard cock, and he muffles a sound so gloriously needy it’s practically a sob.

God. I could come right now, with the taste of him fizzing on my tongue.

“Laurie…Laurie…look at me, love.”

He shakes his head.

“Come on, it’s okay. Look at me.”

Very, very slowly he does. There’s this dark flush sweeping his cheekbones. And it’s like he doesn’t know if he hates me or wants me. Maybe both.

“Please,” he says. “Please don’t. Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

I don’t think he knows what. I drag my thumbs along the wide-open creases where his legs meet his groin, and his hips arch kind of compulsively into my touch, making the chains tighten and chitter a bit in their moorings.

I reckon I’ve judged it about right. He’s not uncomfortable—except in the psychological sense—and he’s got enough freedom of movement that I can still feel his reactions. But he can’t close his legs or pull away from me.

“Don’t what?” I ask again. “You totally want this.”

“Yes, but…” His voice is so soft, so ragged, I don’t know how I’m hearing him. “It’s…just…it’s hard to bear.”

“Yeah, I know.” I kiss the exposed interior of his thigh, and the powerful muscle there jumps under my mouth. “But do it for me. I like you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he mutters.

“Then you’re just going to have to trust me.”

For a long moment, he just stares at me, so flushed and angry and frantic and ashamed, and then his head falls back against the pillows, his body not quite relaxing, but surrendering, just a little bit, opening to me.

I press myself between his legs and drop little kisses over his stomach and hips and up, up, up, as far as I can go. He flinches under each one, greeting them with a soft nhh of fearful pleasure. When I fasten my mouth over one of his nipples, something like a growl catches at the back of his throat, and he pushes up into my touch, into my teeth. He tastes a little coppery. Zing.

By the time I’m heading south again, I think he’s kind of forgotten to be bothered by the restraints, or why it matters that he’s helpless and not helpless and completely vulnerable to me. There’s just my lips and my fingers and the way I’m making him feel. Which, I flatter myself, is pretty fucking good.

I leave him a few souvenirs to keep him company during the week. I guess it’s a bit tacky, but what else have I got? A love bite close to his heart, another on his hip, a third on his thigh. He moans really sweetly when I do them, eyes fluttering as he watches.

I settle myself between his legs again and kiss the tip of his cock kind of playfully, so that it twitches a little and weeps for me, pooling eagerly on his stomach. His balls are drawn up tight beneath, all tender and delicious and forbidden like the fruit of the goblin market. I sort of want to take them into my mouth and suck until I’m totally pleasure-cursed and can’t live without them. Or, y’know, something like that.11

My brain’s unravelling a bit for Laurie.

Because, oh God, oh fuck, the way I’ve got him trussed, his arse is this unprotected valley, with a tight little knot of darkness nestled right at its heart, almost begging me to press inside and claim him.

“There’s two rules.” I’m totally, hopelessly dazed, but I don’t care. “You have to stop when I tell you to stop. And you can only come when I’m inside you.” Okay, that’s ambiguous. Something I’ve learned recently—you can be inside someone a bunch of ways, and you don’t even have to touch them. “When my cock’s in your arse.”

“All right.”

“What’s the rules?”

His lips part a moment before he speaks. The words come slowly, like I’ve drugged him. “Stop when you tell me. Don’t come until…you fuck me.”

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