Page 40 of The Contract

“Yes.”

His smile is wicked, and I love it. He tugs my underwear down. My cock springs out. As he pulls my underwear off, our reflection catches my eye. It looks like a seduction by the devil. Dante is on his knees but wholly in control. His gorgeous face with that wicked, knowing smile, is inches from my stiff, naked dick. I watch in the mirror as Dante’s mouth opens. His tongue extends and he licks the underside of my cock in a long, slow stroke.

Fuuuuuck.

I look down as he reaches my tip. His lips close on it and he sucks. My head thumps against the wall as my eyes roll back.

Dante is usually so aggressive, so dominant. I love that about him—I need that from him—but I love this too. His seduction.

Then he pulls a piece of red cloth from his jacket pocket. He holds it up. It’s a lacy red thong. I stare at it uncomprehendingly. He grabs my ankle and pulls. I resist.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Fuck no.”

“You’re not leaving this dressing room without wearing something I’ve picked. You refused the clothes, so you’ll wear this instead.”

My heart starts racing. “Fine, we can get a shirt or something.”

“Do you see any shirts?”

Shit. That’s why he threw them out. “You were planning this all along. You knew—”

“I didn’t know what you’d do. You surprise me all the time, Tristan. But I was prepared, just in case.”

A pathetic little part of me is pleased that I surprise him, but I can’t give in to that.

“You can’t make me wear that.”

“I think I can. Because I think you’ll prefer it to your alternative. But I guess we’ll see.”

I’m breathing hard. I’m getting more pissed by the second. But the fucked up thing is … my cock is still stiff as shit.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“The alternative,” he reaches up and grips my sac, “is me fucking you in this dressing so hard that everyone in this store hears how you moan and scream when my cock’s in your ass. Then you can wear my cum instead.”

The idea is absolutely horrifying, and yet a delicious shudder wracks my body. My cock twitches. When a bead of precum forms at my slit, Dante sweeps his tongue across it. Lust shoots down my spine.

As hard as I am, I’m not sure where I thought this was going. As hard as I am, I’m not sure what I want.

When Dante tugs at my ankle again, I let him lift my foot. He guides it through the leg opening. Then he does the other. He takes his time sliding the thong up to my hips. He parts my cheeks to settle the string in the crack of my ass. He tucks my balls into the front triangle of cloth. It’s cut full enough for them to fit. It even stretches to accommodate my hard cock. This thong is meant for a man. But it’s lacy and semi-sheer. Feminine despite its cut.

Dante stands and tugs me away from the wall. He turns me so I’m facing the mirror, with him behind me. I can feel the ridge of his cock through his jeans. His arms wrap around me, hands splaying possessively over my chest and belly. I stare at my reflection, barely comprehending the sight of myself in a lacy red thong with my cock swelling the front of it.

“Mmm,” he murmurs near my ear. “Beautiful.”

Is it? Am I? I feel so strange. So confused. At least, my head is confused. My body doesn’t seem to be.

I jump when I hear footsteps clicking toward our door. “Sir?” calls a woman’s voice from outside it. “Can I get you another size or style?”

“No,” Dante replies, holding me still against my instinct to scramble. “Nothing worked out today. Another time perhaps.”

“Yes, sir.” I hear the sound of clothes being gathered up and shaken out, then her heels go clicking away.

Despite his words, Dante looks like everything worked out exactly like he wanted.

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