Page 30 of The Contract

I stare at him like he’s crazy—because he is.

“Do you want to watch me sew it up?” he asks.

I blink. I hold back my automaticno. I think about it. Dante is so abnormal, so unapologetic, that it frees me to consider my own true impulses. I don’t have to default to what’s normal.

“Yes,” I answer. “I want to watch.”

Because I’m looking, I notice how his cock twitches. Mine responds in kind.

He gets me a towel, another for himself. It’s fluffy and smooth, nothing like what I’m used to. I like how it feels against my balls and hardening dick. My skin is so much more sensitive after the waxing. I feel everything. And I love how it looks. I love that it’s so smooth. When he fucked me, there was nothing between us. Just skin. Just cum.

I’m hardening by the second. I don’t understand why my body has become so sexually responsive, but I like it. It’s real in a way that so many things aren’t. I can’t pretend anything, naked in this bathroom with my cock jutting out.

His stiffens as I stare at it. Except for porn, I’ve never seen another man’s bare cock. I’ve certainly never touched one otherthan my own. I want to touch his. I want to feel its weight and texture. I want to feel it hardening.

It’s almost like he senses that because he turns away. One of his rules is that I can’t touch him there.

He limps over to the cabinet and gets out one hell of a first aid kit. I think about all his scars. I think about how easily he disarmed me. He fights. All that muscle isn’t just for show. And he isverywell muscled. There’s definition everywhere, not just his arms and torso but also his hips, his legs, his ass.

How did I never notice the absolute erotic beauty of the male form?

He goes to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. As he digs into the red bag, I settle on the floor nearby, sitting cross legged on my towel. Dante’s eyes flick to me. The corner of his mouth tugs.

He scrubs the wound with antiseptic. It must hurt like hell, but nothing in his body language shows it. His cock is still hard.

With his legs spread, he’s on full display: jutting cock, full, heavy balls. That’s why I see the scar on the inside of his thigh. It starts about four inches below his groin and goes all the way to his balls. It’s faint. Old. He’s been fighting for a long time. Ugly fighting.

It makes a little more sense, then, when I watch him rip open a package and get out a curved needle. He pinches the wound together and starts to sew. He starts breathing hard, but that’s about it. His cock remains stiff even as his fingers get coated with blood.

I don’t know why it’s so arousing to watch, but my dick throbs as he works. A bead of precum forms at my slit.

Dante pauses his work to look at me. He says, “You can masturbate if you want. Just don’t come.”

I hesitate briefly then then start stroking myself. I’ve never masturbated in front of anyone before. With anyone but Dante,I would be too self-conscious, but his lips part as he watches me. It takes him a while to go back to work.

By the time he finishes, with the blood washed away and the wound bandaged, I’m panting. I want to come. Dante goes to the cupboard and gets a bottle of something. Lube, I realize when he squirts some into his hand.

I make a needful sound when he slicks his cock. He grabs another towel. He lays it folded behind me. Then he kneels and pulls my legs open. It tips me back. My head hits the folded towel. He lifts me, exposing my hole, and shoves his cock inside.

I shout, bowing up at the pain. I’m not tight like I was before, but I’m tender. He doesn’t care. He brutalizes my ass anyway. He’s hitting my prostate. The way I’m lifted up, bent nearly in half, has my cock leaking heavily against my clenched stomach.

I start to reach for my cock, but he knocks my hand away. Then his hand closes on my throat. Panic spikes when I can’t breathe. I thrash, but he is ruthless. His eyes are dark and intent. His lips draw back from his clenched teeth. He keeps pounding into me—

I come so fucking hard that I’m screaming around the constriction at my throat. I’m thrashing on the ground. My cock, untouched, is spurting wildly.

He keeps fucking me and I keep coming. Then his hips snap forward as he strains against me. I can feel his orgasm as his cock pulses inside me, painting my insides with his hot cum. It milks another creamy strand from me. And another.

I collapse, shattered and spasming so hard that my hand flops against the tiles. Dante releases my throat. He’s spasming too, his body rocking against mine, his cock still twitching in my ass.

Dark spots dance through my vision. I cry out when he pulls out of me. I don’t realize he’s gotten up until I hear the water run at the sink.

He comes back with a warm, wet cloth. His jaw is set, his eyes still intense as he cleans my release from my skin. It’s everywhere. If I were more with it, I might be embarrassed by the way he lifts my leg and cleans my hole.

My body is too loose, my mind too shattered to protest when he picks me up off the floor like I don’t weigh 165 pounds—and like he doesn’t have a fresh stab wound in his thigh. He carries me into the bedroom. It’s not the room with the kinky bed. It’s normal. Huge and luxurious, but normal.

He lays me down in a vast, comfortable bed. He crawls in behind me. Rolling me onto my side, he tugs me into the curve of his body, my back to his front. He pulls the covers over us. As though all this is the most natural thing in the world, I fall asleep.

TEN

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