Page 57 of Of Pranks and Passion

“I caught myself a Gary. I wonder what I’ll do with him?”

Why did that turn me on so much? I never thought I’d enjoy giving up my power, especially not after escaping my family, but I trusted Easton. And I knew he’d stop whenever I asked. Instead of panicking about it, I was flooded with differentscenarios until I was panting with need and soaking my boxers with precum.

Easton’s grin grew. “You like being my prisoner, Gary?”

I nodded quickly, but couldn’t answer out loud. I was tongue tied from the look on Easton’s face. There was a hint of mischief there, and I desperately wanted to know what he had planned.

Spinning me around, he used my trapped wrists to march me into the kitchen. That was confusing. I didn’t know what we could do in here that we couldn’t do in bed, but Easton didn’t give me time to argue. He nipped and sucked on my neck, distracting me long enough to get my pants and boxers around my ankles. After a quick stroke of my erection, he grabbed me by my hips and forced me face first onto the counter. I wasn’t tall enough to reach the floor, and the whole position was a little embarrassing honestly, so I wriggled in protest only for Easton to stop me with his hands on my hips.

“I’m going to enjoy a meal, Gary. The best place to do that is in the kitchen.”

Enjoy a meal? What?

His hands squeezed my cheeks, spreading them wide, and when I felt his tongue run over my pucker, I cried out in surprise.

“Easton!”

He’d never done that before. He told me when we first started sleeping together that he’d show me everything, and we were always trying new positions and new places. I felt really bad for defiling Carter’s futon, and grateful that Easton put down a towel before that round. We hadn’t done anything like this before, though. I didn’t know people actually did that. It seemed like a thing people did in porn to elicit a response from the audience. I always thought it was hot, but I didn't think anyone would do it to me.

With my hands trapped in my shirt and my legs dangling, I couldn’t move an inch. I whimpered and moaned, everybrush of his tongue lighting up nerves in a way I didn’t know was possible, but I couldn’t thrust, couldn’t writhe, couldn’t do anything but take it. It was so intense, I practically sobbed with pleasure. I started chanting his name, almost desperately, and my fingers were wrapped so tightly around my shirt, they were almost numb.

Just as I was about to finish, Easton pulled back and bit my ass cheek hard enough to steal my focus. I yelped, moaning when he licked at the bite to ease the sting.

“Not yet, Gary. I’m not done with you yet.”

Every time he said that, it made my pulse flutter. I knew he didn’t mean forever. That wasn’t what we agreed on. He was helping me out, and we were enjoying ourselves in the process. But he said once this was all over, we’d go back to being friends. I wasn’t sure how long it would take, or if it would even work long term, but I was determined to enjoy it while I could. Eventually, he’d get bored, and I’d go back to being sad little bookworm Gary. For now, I was going to enjoy feeling wanted and not get too into my head about wishing it was real. Now if only I could get my heart to listen to my head.

A loud crack filled the room when Easton slapped his palm on my ass. I yelped in surprise, whipping my head over my shoulder to gape at him. He grinned at me.

“Pay attention, Gary. I want every ounce of your focus on me.”

I very rarely thought about anything else. Even during class, I struggled to focus because I was wondering what he was doing in the classes we didn’t share. I doubt even a fire could keep my attention off Easton for long. I was such a sad little puppy, pining over him.

When he felt like he had my full attention, he rewarded me by pulling the olive oil out of the cabinet and lubing up his fingers. It didn’t matter how rough Easton got with me, he never wantedto truly hurt me, so he always made sure I was prepped before fucking me. He pushed one finger inside me without preamble, and I gasped at the intrusion. A few weeks of consistent sex meant I wasn’t as tense as I used to be, and it didn’t take nearly as long to prep me. A few minutes later, Easton was three fingers deep, and I was moaning so loud, my voice was going to be hoarse when we were done.

“Know what my favorite part of this kitchen is?” Easton asked conversationally, like he wasn’t petting my prostate and making me squirm.

“W-Wha–aaaahhh!” He pulled his fingers free, slapping my ass again to stop me from coming. My whole body throbbed, and I felt like a stiff breeze would send me over the edge. While I pulled myself back together, Easton moved around behind me, the sound of clothes fluttering and foil crinkling marking where he was without me looking at him. When I could breathe again without worrying about exploding, I swallowed around the dry spot in my throat and tried again. “What’s… your favorite… part?”

Easton’s chuckle sent a shiver up my spine. It was filled with the promise of pleasure and rough enough to make me think he was just as into this as I was. I always wondered if it was as intense for him as it was for me. I never had the nerve to ask.

“The counters are the perfect height.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that until he sank himself inside me in one smooth movement. I shouted in surprised pleasure, grateful for the bite of the counter against my hips that kept me from coming the second he was inside me. That still happened more times than I wanted to admit. I loved the feeling of being filled so much that there was a 50/50 shot it’d drop kick me over the edge before he was even fully inside me.

Easton didn't wait anymore for me to adjust. He knew how much I loved the burn. His fingers dug into my hips, and he drewback, slamming inside me hard enough to make my toes curl. He pounded into me roughly, growling with each thrust. With the way he placed me on the counter, my erection was trapped underneath me and each time he hammered into me, my body rocked, giving me pain and pleasure in tandem with the friction it provided.

Okay, maybe he had a point about the counters.

My begging stopped being coherent at one point. I was reduced to half hearted babbles, my mind going white with pleasure, reducing my communication skills to zero. All I could do was take it and feel.

The thought sent me flying over the edge without warning. An embarrassing wail escaped me as I flooded the counter beneath me, clenching hard around Easton’s length. He shouted in surprise and picked up the pace, nailing my oversensitive prostate with each thrust as he chased his release. My cries went up by several octaves, and I think I surprised the hell out of both of us when, only a couple minutes later, I came again with a scream. Easton followed after me with a roar, collapsing on top of my back after he’d finished.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

EASTON

Holy shit.

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