Page 43 of The Contract

I follow, wondering if he’s hunting for a knife. But he’s more distressed than angry. He demands, “Why did you want me to wear this?”

“Why do you think?”

“Fuck, Dante! Just answer my fucking question! Please!”

“All right.” I prowl toward him. He starts backing away, and I wonder if he even realizes what direction he’s instinctively heading.

“I made you wear it so that you would be aware, all day, that you belong to me. So that while I was hunting for the separate space that you fucking insisted on—here it is, by the way—” I snatch the new apartment keys from my pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in a scramble against his chest. “—you would have to think, all that while, about what you looked like in front of that mirror, beautiful and hard and undeniably mine.”

Tristan doesn’t react to the keys, doesn’t even look at them. His eyes are locked on me, like they should be, as he backs down the hallway.

“I made you wear them so you would think, all day, about how I was going to fuck you in them. Which is exactly what’s going to happen now.”

We’ve reached the play room. Tristan backs into it.

“Get out of those goddamn clothes,” I tell him as I snatch the keys back, since he doesn’t seem to know what to do with them. I drop them on the floor and shrug out of my leather jacket, which I also drop. I yank off my t-shirt.

Tristan starts unbuttoning his shirt. His hands are shaking. His chest is heaving. His cock is pressing against the front of his pants. I reach for his belt and unbuckle it. He shivers at that, but when I undo his pants, dragging my knuckles against his cock, his whole body convulses.

I grab him and pull him into me. Both my hands slide into his pants, one grabbing his ass, the other gripping his hard, hot dick through the thong. I hold him close and let him gasp against my throat. Both his hands are on my chest.

I whisper against him, “Why are you upset?”

His face tucks against me. It does something to me, pries at some closed-up place inside me. I almost draw back, but then he rocks into me, so fucking needy, and I stay with him.

I want to force him to answer my question, but I wouldn’t get the truth, not yet. I need to break him open first.

I knead his ass and gently rub his cock through the lace. He breathes a sigh of relief against me. His fingers flex on my chest like he wants to touch more of me. I’ve noticed this before, that he’s hesitant about that.

I back him toward the bed, tugging his pants down as I make him sit. “Lie back,” I tell him. He complies, and I finish undressing him, except for the thong.

I stare down at him, admiring every bit of his body but especially his beautiful cock. It presses erotically against the red lace. I’m still shocked that I tongued his cock earlier. That’s something I don’t do. But now, I find myself bending over him, nuzzling at him through the red lace, rubbing my nose against his swollen balls and stiff dick. I breathe in his delicious, musky scent. I dab my tongue against the damp spot at his tip.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, pressing up against me. “Shit.”

I draw back, dragging my hands along his thighs. As I take off my shoes, Tristan lies there panting, but when he hears my zipper, his head lifts. When I shove down my pants and underwear, baring my hard cock, his lips part and he makes a soft, breathy sound.

I go to the cabinet for the lube, the beaded dildo, and a vibrator. I return to the foot of the bed and set everything down. Tristan lifts up onto his elbow and stares at all of it.

“What?” I ask. “Did you think I was just going to put my cock in you and be done with it?”

He looks at me. A little, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his lips.

“Come here,” I say and pull him to his feet. I turn him around so he’s facing the bed. I stand behind him, letting my cock lie along the cleft of his ass.

My arms reach around him and I pick up the beaded dildo and lube. As I get the toy ready for him, his hands come to rest lightly on my forearms. I want to kiss him. It’s a bizarre fucking impulse, one I can’t give in to. I gently bite his trap instead. His head falls back on my shoulder.

I’m frozen there for a while. Too long. What’s happening? Today was supposed to be about showing Tristan that he belongs to me, but it feels like it got more complicated than that.

I draw back and bend him over the bed. His ass looks so perfect framed by the red straps. I tug at the one lying between his cheeks and press the tip of the dildo against his hole. He sucks in a breath as the black knob forces him open. I go slowly, one bead at a time, letting him enjoy each new sensation, letting myself enjoy his reactions and the little sounds he makes.

Tristan groans as the last, largest bead pops into him. It’s about the dirtiest, most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen: Tristan bent over in that red throng with a dildo in his ass. I moan at the sight. My dick twitches and pulses out a thick stream of precum.

“Climb up onto the bed,” I tell him. My voice is gravelly.

He moans as he does it, as the dildo shifts and rubs inside him. He collapses onto his front, panting. I let him lie there and adjust. It gives me time to get the restraints ready.

“Roll over,” I say. When he doesn’t comply, I smack his ass. He cries out, body jerking. He lifts and turns, flopping onto his back. I grab one ankle and secure it so that his leg is lifted, his knee bent. He doesn’t fight me. I think he’s too far gone. I secure the other ankle. He’s pulled up and open, fully exposed. My stomach clenches as I shudder at the sight of that dildo in his ass. But I have to focus.

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