Page 51 of The Contract

I catch a brief glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes are wild. My jaw is clenched. I’m fucking him with deep, brutal thrusts. But it’s mostly Tristan I watch. He’s taking me beautifully. Tears are streaming from behind his squeezed-shut eyelids. His mouth is open. His body is jerking with every thrust.

“Open your eyes,” I tell him. He obeys me automatically. “Look how beautiful you are, look how fucking free you are.” My words are punctuated with thrusts, with cries, with the perfect, filthy sound of my cock moving in his ass.

I haul him upright so he can see his own leaking cock. I turn us slightly so he can see mine as it punches up into him—and he starts to come. The upward spurt of his ejaculation, the sight of it leaping from the flared tip of his stiff cock, is so fucking erotic that I absolutely lose it. I slam him down against the counter and unleash myself on his ass. I’m coming within seconds, pumping hard and hot inside him as his ass fists my spurting cock.

My orgasm wracks my body with heavy pulses. I strain against him, my pelvis flush against his ass as I spill hotly inside him. Tristan moans as my pulsing cock milks the last of his orgasm from him.

Aftershocks have me shuddering against him, riding the bliss of my release. I feel so fucking good. Everything in me is quiet for a second.

I think I half pass out or drift off or something because when Tristan starts to slump, I jolt a little. His whole body is loose. He was so fucking good for me. He was perfect.

I start stroking the back of his neck, but it’s not enough. I need more of him. I start to pull out, making him whine. When only the head of my cock is inside him, I grab the plug. I press it against his hole as my cock slides free. I love the way he reacts as I push the plug into him once more. I love his whine. I love the way his hole stretches to take the toy. I love that it holds my cum inside him.

I quickly fix my pants, then I dampen a towel and clean him up around the edges of the plug. I pull him up from his slump against the counter so I can clean his cock. He makes little sounds of distress as the cloth brushes his overly sensitized tip.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’m almost done.”

I drop the cloth on the counter and get his underwear and pants back up. I keep a hand on his hip as I clean up his cum. He blew so hard that it’s everywhere. Then I toss the cloth in the bin and guide Tristan over to a padded bench. He’s so out of it that he lets me pull him down crosswise onto my lap.

He’s shuddering, his body rocking against me. He’ll be hard again soon with that plug inside him. Holding my cum. My cock stirs at the thought.

“It’s okay,” I murmur again, holding him,enjoyingholding him. His face tucks against my throat. For some reason, I like that too.

We stay there for a long while before either of us is ready to get up. I keep expecting a knock on the door, but it never happens.

Tristan makes a little sound of distress as he stands. He turns his face into me again. I pet his hair.

“We’re going home. I’ll take it out then.”

He nods against my chest. Why does it feel so good?

I’m still dripping blood, which I’ve gotten all over his vest and shirt. I hand him his jacket so he can cover the mess.

At the sink, I take off my own jacket so I can wrap a washcloth around my bleeding forearm. He got me good.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’ll fix it at home.”

“You’re bleeding a lot.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. You were well within your rights.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“I know.”

He snorts softly and starts cleaning my blood from the counter, like I cleaned up his cum. When he bends over to clean blood off the floor, he groans. I have to close my eyes as my body rocks with fresh desire. I want to touch him, but if I do, I’ll start fucking him again.

He tosses the bloodstained cloth in the trash then fixes his hair. “Fuck, I look high,” he says.

He does. His eyes are all glassy and dark.

“You look beautiful,” I tell him.

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