Page 38 of The Contract

I scream into the mattress as my orgasm rips through me. Cum explodes from my pulsing cock. I strain and thrash as my body seizes. My ass clenches on Dante’s thrusting cock.

I moan and gasp as he keeps fucking me. I spasm at the overstimulation. For a second, I don’t like it. Then I start hardening again.

He starts fucking me harder, pistoning into my ass. His heavy balls slap against me. His cock makes sloppy, filthy, delicious sounds inside me.

Holy shit, I’m gonna come again.

Dante was quiet before, but he’s making a lot of noise now. He’s grunting, almost growling.

My body is strung tight, and the second he shouts, the second his hips snap forward and his cock kicks heavily inside me, Iscream through my second orgasm. I buck and thrash as he strains against me. His cock pumps hot cum into my ass, filling me.

When I collapse, twitching and shuddering, still moaning, Dante starts stroking my flank. It’s almost tender. I like it.

He pulls out. It makes him grunt and it makes me gasp. My hole clenches on nothing. It’s awful, and I almost cry. When he pushes a finger into me, I make a sound of relief.

“There,” he whispers. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” I breathe and start to relax.

“Just sleep,” he says quietly. “You’ve had enough.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” he promises.

Then I’m able to let go and drift into the dark.

THIRTEEN

Tristan

“No,” I say as Dante holds up another overpriced t-shirt. His eyes narrow. Seeming to realize that I’m just going to veto everything in this ridiculous store, he decides to do what always does: whatever the hell he wants.

He ignores me as I stand sullenly at the end of a rack. I hate everything about this. I wouldn’t have even agreed to set foot in this offensively expensive place if I’d realized we were here to shop forme.

Dante lets the attendant take his selections back to the dressing room. Her high heels click across the polished floor.

Dante comes to loom over me. He’s only a few inches taller than I am, but he still manages to loom. We’re both wearing jeans and t-shirts, but he’s got a sexy-as-shit leather motorcycle jacket over his. Even without that, the cut of his clothes and the obvious quality, not to mention everything about his general vibe, shows that he belongs here. I don’t.

It’s different at Lush. I can play my role there because I have a role to play. Here, I’m obviously just the low-class … what? Not boyfriend. Piece of ass? I suppose that’s what I am. And yet … Dante moved my things into his place.

As furious as I am about that, part of me is pleased. Not that I’m going to tell Dante that. And, yeah, I know that’s insane, but that’s par for the course here.

Dante whispers in my ear. “You’re going to come back to the dressing room, or we’re going to make a scene in this store.”

I shiver, both at his nearness and at the threat. Someone else might bluff about something like that, but Dante doesn’t make idle threats.

I go with him to the dressing room. At least there we’ll have more privacy to argue.

The dressing room is nothing like the thrift store dressing rooms I’m used to. Instead of glaring overhead lights, distorted mirrors, and walls so close you can’t get into a shirt without banging your elbows, this dressing room looks like it belongs to a movie star.

“What’s the fucking problem?” Dante asks as soon as the door closes behind us.

“This isn’t my kind of place.”

“Your work wardrobe suggests otherwise.”

“That’s different.”

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