Page 102 of Yours Truly

I move past him into the hallway, scooping my hair up to get it off my neck and back.

“Let me,” he says, rolling an elastic from his wrist, tying my hair up in a knot as I tease him.

“I have cute pajamas, you know. And now that I have space here, I can bring them, so I can technically wear my own clothes to bed, Trace…” I say, and even though it’s true, and I do have adorable pajamas with skulls and roses all over them, I love pissing him off. He finishes off a perfect bun, and squeezes my shoulders.

“My clothes or no clothes,” he growls, stomping after me toward the kitchen.

I yawn as I hop onto the counter, peering around the space that has way more stuff in it. A chopping block with knives, a cutting board propped on its side, a case of canned sparkling water on the floor, and an empty vase. “Fine,” I say, “I guess I agree.”

He winks, filling the vase full of water.

“You have way more stuff than last time I was here,” I comment, watching him pull dyed black roses from kraft paper on his table. “Those are beautiful, Trace.”

He slides the vase toward me. “Arrange them. They’re yours. I was going to take them to Ink Time for the party but I thought you’d want something to look at when you wake up here tomorrow.”

Running my thumb along the silken petal, I sigh at their beauty, and the fact that he ordered these especially for me. “Thank you for the party, by the way. Despite how it ended, it was so thoughtful of you and I want you to know, I really appreciate it,” I tell him as he pulls a frying pan from the cabinet.

“Grilled cheese?” he asks, and I nod. Gathering the ingredients, he says, “You’re welcome. I liked doing it. And ordering all the things I needed made me realize that I could easily fill my house and make it a much more enjoyable place for us to live.” He nods to the frying pan. “Like being able to make grilled cheese after hot sex.”

Grilled cheese after hot sex in the arms of the man I’ve adored for ages? He was right. Tattoos and fairy tales—life is perfect.

THIRTY

Not for the rest of our lives.

Trace

“I don’t like feeling jealous and out of control, do you?” Ivy asks, her hand pressing my face against the wall.

“No,” I say, the singular word jumbling as it passes by the gag in my mouth.

“No, no, you don’t,” she says. “And there was a lot of laughter after your last session today. A lot of… friendliness not needed to retain the client.”

Fuck, I love this. I love how worked up Ivy gets when we have a new female client that requests me. You’d never know it, not even if you knew her, because she does such a great job of being professional. But when new clients flirt with me, it drives her fucking wild.

Then we come home and she fucks me wild.

I’ve been hard for the last four hours, anticipating my Firecracker being upset.

“You’ll learn,” she breathes against my ear, the warning sliding down my core, leaving me edgy and achy. “Keep your hands on the wall.” She slaps my bare ass and I jump, but my hands don’t move. I know better. Last time I disobeyed my Firecracker, my balls took a whack that still makes me cough when I think about it.

Her hands smooth over the globes of my ass before she gently parts me, rocking to her toes, pressing her bare chest to my naked back.

Her tits smashed against me as she drags the head of the toy through the split of my ass is driving me mad, so I groan, but the gag ball stops me.

“Oh, you want relief?” she whispers, her words trickling down my spine as her velvet lips graze my earlobe. “I’ll give you relief, and when you come all over the fucking wall for me, remember who made you feel this way. Remember me when you’re flirting with some babe in the shop,” she hisses, surging forward, making me gasp from the intrusion.

One hand keeps me spread, the other loops my waist as she grabs my throbbing cock. I can’t help but moan against the gag, the feel of her slick palm jacking me and her cock in my ass making me crazy.

I needed to come hours ago, when she showed me her tits in the office at Ink Time. It’s why I flirted with that client, to rile her up. I’ve been dreaming about being her plaything all damn day. And now that I am? I want it to last.

But she makes it so hard.

Releasing my cock for a second, she twists my nipple, making me jerk. She takes the opportunity to slide deeper inside me as I flail, using where we’re joined to push me into the wall. My hands stay up, but my eyes flutter closed as the pressure in my groin skyrockets.

When her hand comes back to my cock, she strokes me while pumping into me from behind. “If you want to play games with me, Trace Wade, you can. But there’s a price to pay for upsetting me.” She fucks me harder then, my stomach coiling as my balls pull tight. Looking down, I drool and moan against the gag at the sight of her fair hand pumping my hardened pink dick, the tip slick with precum, angry veins tracing the shaft.

“You wanted to fuck her?” she breathes, and though this is part of the punishment role-play, I still try to say no, I try to let her know that even in role-play she’s the only one I want. But she won’t let me. “Now I’m fucking you,” she says, laughing as she releases her grip on my cock, denying me the slight relief.

---