Page 29 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

“Oh, good.” I relax a little.

He takes advantage to shove another in my ass.

“Fucking Christ, Laur!” A well-timed cheer from the nightclub below swallows my shout.

“Should I fuck you now?” Laur runs his fingers, wet and cold, across my lips and I suck the chilled water off the tips. “Or is that unfair?”

“Give it to me. I can take it.”

He whistles appreciatively. “Good answer, kid. You were born to be broken.”

Then he disappears.

There’s nothing but the pulse and beat of the nightclub, the wet sheets between my knees, the chill in my ass, and the throbbing of my tortured cock. I stay perfectly still, straining to hear.

He left. You won’t believe it for another ten minutes. So you’ll stay here like a total loser, handcuffed and blindfolded, with ice melting in your ass and your cock hard as hell because you’re a broken shell of a man who nobody will ever love.

Plastic crinkles behind me. Oh, a condom. How thoughtful.

That’s the only warning I get before he sinks his cock to the hilt. His sharp tool squeezes the cold water out and pushes what had not melted deeper. I howl from the chill and the pain.

Not thoughtful!

“Fuck, that’s a tight ass,” he growls in my ear, crouched behind me, like a demented goblin riding my back, controlling my every movement with the jerk of his cock. “I did not know that about you, Stagger.”

I gasp for breath, fighting through the pain and into pleasure. “I don’t give it up to every man who slips a dollar in my shorts, you know.”

He makes a disbelieving “meh” sound. Then hammers me with such ferocity that for a moment I think maybe I can outlast him. Maybe he’ll get carried away and come first. He won’t honor any deal he’s made, but I can make him. Grab him by the shoulders and pin him to the floor. Use actual lube, like a fucking gentleman.

“Every time I’ve watched you shake that ass in a man’s face, I imagined him fucking you. Even before you deigned to speak to me.” He wraps his arm around my throat, choking me.

When I panic, he switches tactic immediately, releasing my throat and gripping my shoulder hard to keep me down. I fucking love that. He holds his weight over me and I can feel the missing digits, the surprising sharpness of knuckle bones too close to the skin.

“The way you spread your legs on stage and offer it up like that. Had no idea this piece of meat was just for me.”

Yes. Just for him.

He slaps my ass and fucks harder and the cheap handcuffs clatter together.

“You know the worst part of a striptease?”

I moan in answer, past the point where I could say anything more complicated than “please” or “slower” or “fuck me.”

“These boys get you so hot and bothered, and I bet not one of them has the goddamn common courtesy to give you a reach-around.” He takes my cock in his left hand.

The mere presence of his fingers makes me croon with delight and sends a surge of lust to my cock. He strokes as hard as he fucks, and I have no defense against him. No hope of holding out.

“But you know what, Chard?” he coos in my ear. “Next time I see you strut across that stage and hump some drunk bitch, I’ll remember.”

He slaps my ass with his right hand. “Just for me.”

I pant my agreement. So close. Hovering on the brink of total sexual annihilation.

“Say it.”

“Just for you,” I promise in a desperate pant, and with that for a cue, my cock twitches and releases. It douses the bedsheet and happens so fast and so powerfully, I’m briefly lightheaded. I marvel that no one below had any concept of the ecstasy happening over their heads.

“Yeah, go on and come, you little bitch. You don’t get to fuck me.” Laur growls and pumps my cock in the same brutal rhythm he pounds my ass, not relenting an inch just because I’ve surrendered to my pleasure.

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