Page 18 of Tied

Chris

With his hands tangled in my nape, bringing me closer, our tongues tangle. Attempting the lock on my hotel room door, I’m fumbling. Not long ago I watched as Galen wrestled his card. Here I am doing the same damn thing. Drunk, stripping down in the hall, Marcus’s hands explore my body while I fiddle with the door system.

We’d talked for a few hours, not really interested in the live stage show or the countless women who attempted to woo us. I was fairly certain that both of us had the same interests at heart. Now as I’m clicking the lock and watching as he falls backwards through the doorway, stumbling and tripping over his own shoes, I fumble with the do not disturb sign. Placing it on the handle, I click the bolt across the lock. I’m anticipatory. I know what’s coming, and it’ll be me. I’ve been rock hard for over an hour, envisioning what’s next.

Pulling me close again, Marcus drags his fingers across my nipples, tightening them to a point. “Chris.” He kisses me. “Top or bottom?” he asks as his stubble rubs against the grain of mine.

“Bottom, but I’ll switch.”

“So do I. Do you have condoms?”

“And restraints, if you don’t mind.” I wait a moment to see if he’s cool with it. I like them every so often, and I’ve learned that if I don’t ask, there’s a good chance we won’t work out for the night.

“That’s fine with me,” Marcus states, stripping off his shirt. Underneath is always the mystery of if they’re clean-shaven, furry, tattooed or scarred. Surprisingly, Marcus is both tattooed and shaved. Two of my favorites.

Yanking my shirt over my head, I toss it to the bed before grabbing supplies from my bag. I turn away from Marcus to close the blinds.

Bending down and pulling out the restraints, his arms come around me, grasping the fly of my slacks. “What surprises does this hold, I wonder?”

As the zipper is slowly ticked down, I freeze, both excited and anticipating the contact. Reaching inside, his heated hand grasps my shaft. I nearly keel over from the iron grip he holds it in. “Do you like it a bit painful?” Releasing his hold, he slowly moves up and down in a gentle fashion. “Or soft and sweet?”

Releasing a pent-up breath, I breathe out, “Fuck.”

“Soft or hard? Which is it, Chris?” Marcus asks again. Doing the same evil grip and soft releasing strokes, he trails kisses down my back, towards my ass.

“Both. I like both.” I shudder.

As my pants fall to the floor in a heap, stepping slightly closer, I feel his above average erection resting against my back. I don’t turn to look, I can feel the length as it rests hotly against my skin. I’ll know it’s length soon enough.

Lifting the restraints and the condoms, I turn slightly to look over my shoulder. “Please. I’ve been on edge since before the club.”

Releasing his arms from around me, Marcus takes the restraints and sets the unopened condoms on the table. “Is here okay?”

Testing the strength of the hotel table, I wiggle it. “Yes.”

With a slightly drunk-muddled head, I show Marcus how to attach the straps and how to set them where they’re comfortable, all while I prepare myself mentally for the contact. Once I’m fully controlled by the straps, I await the contact of his thickness stretching out my ass.

“Is there anything else?”

“Meaning?” I question.

“Do you like to be stroked or left alone?”

Jesus! Thank you for asking. “Fucked and held as I’m closing in on my orgasm.”

“Understood.” Hearing the rip of the condom packet, and waiting as he seats his member, I’m wondering why he’s taking so long.

“Marcus?” I ask.

“Yep. Just a second.” Wandering over to the blinds, he pulls them open, leaving me exposed. I’m starting to worry.

“Could you please close the blinds?”

“I love the moonlight when I fuck,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Okay.” I’m worried, but too drunk and randy to care.

“Ready?”

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