Page 32 of Mine

“I’m going to spank you while you fuck my thighs until you come. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Let yourself come, sweet boy. You deserve it.”

The second the last word leaves his mouth, there’s a sharp slap to my ass. The sound echoes in the room, pain blooming, making my dick even harder.

I hump his legs like a damn dog, too filled with need and too blissed out to be shy about it. He spanks me, right cheek, left cheek, back and forth, while I fist my hands in the pillows, pumping my hips and thrusting my cock against him.

He smacks me one last time, right before fireworks go off inside me, vision going black as my body climbs higher than it’s ever been, then nose-dives off the cliff into orgasm. Hot spurts of cum hit his legs as I lose myself, until I’m limp and sated, ass sore and body worn out on top of him.

“Are you okay?” Sir asks softly, dancing the tips of his fingers down my spine.

“That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

*

I don’t knowhow much time passes, but when I wake up, it’s to warm arms around me. We’re still on the couch, but Sir is lying with me, his arm around my waist, holding me close. We’re facing each other, so when my eyes flutter open, they land on his. He’s clearly been awake for a while, if not the whole time, just lying here while I slept.

My heart jumps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

His brows draw together. “You have nothing to apologize for. You were so good for me tonight. I couldn’t have asked for a better scene. The endorphins are flowing a lot in those situations, and it’s okay to crash afterward. And when you do, I’ll take care of you. I like this part of it too.”

I smile, want to nuzzle into him, wish he was shirtless, but I don’t move since I don’t know if I’m allowed to. “Okay,” I reply.

Marsh—Sir—brushes the hair back from my forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Still tired but really good. That was…more than I could have even hoped it would be. That’s how I always knew it’s supposedto feel but didn’t know how to find it.” He smiles, and I can tell my words please him, before a storm washes over his features. Fear immediately seizes me. “You don’t want to do it again.” I try to pull away, but Sir doesn’t let me. He keeps me in place, and honestly, I’m not trying that hard. I don’t want the space between us.

“I very much want to do this again, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t concern me.”

“Do we have to keep going over this? It’s just sex and mutual fulfillment. I know it’s nothing more. We’re not boyfriends. My parents will never know.”

And I don’t want to risk his relationship with them. I just don’t feel it should do that since we’re both consenting adults.

“I don’t want to hide things from my best friend…and sneaking around makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m forty years old.”

I roll my eyes, and he smacks my ass. “Sorry,” I mumble. “But do you tell my dad every time you hook up? You said yourself it’s something you don’t discuss, so you wouldn’t be talking to him about this even if it wasn’t me. And we are both adults. There’s no reason we can’t fuck each other if we want.”

He sighs, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.

“Please, Sir. I wouldn’t ask if you didn’t want me, but I know you do. This was…” I don’t have words for what this was. “You gave me a part of myself I’ve always known was there but didn’t know how to unlock the chains.”

He closes his eyes, then leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. It’s the first time he’s kissed me, I realize. I don’t even know what his mouth tastes like.

“We can continue, but it’s not more than play. Is that what you want? I can’t give you more than that.”

Because I’m his best friend’s son. He doesn’t have to say that’s the reason. We can fuck, and he can dominate me,but he won’t risk more because of what it would do to his relationship with my dad. Sex we can hide, but nothing more than that. It shouldn’t hurt, especially because I’m not looking for a relationship either, and honestly, the last thing I want is to tell my parents I’m sleeping with Marsh. I wince at thinking his name in this context, and then acknowledge that while it shouldn’t hurt, it does.

“Why are you making that face?” he asks.

“I thought of you as Marsh, and while I know it’s you with me, and I like that it’s you with me, giving me this, it feels weird to think of you as Marsh now. Marsh wasn’t someone I slept with, but I don’t know if I can call you Sir all the time either.”

“Then use Marshall. I’m Marshall or Sir to you while we do this. When it ends, I’ll go back to being Marsh again.”

I can’t hold back my grin. “I like that, Marshall.”

“You’re a spoiled little brat already,” he says with a smile. “And I feel the same. What should I call you?”

“Jay.” It’s not a name anyone else uses for me. John is clearly out of the question, and I don’t feel like Thomas, my middle name. Jay suits me.

“Jay it is. Tell me how you felt about everything we did today.”

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