Page 21 of The Hookup Situation

He swallows when I toss the lube and condom on the bed next to him, then climb on, holding onto the cuffs.

“Don’t stop,” I say, when he releases his dick. “You keep touching yourself until I say otherwise, handsome. Don’t come.”

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, resting his head back on the pillow and gripping his shaft once again.

“You ever used these before?” I ask, holding up the cuffs, and he shakes his head. I stare at him.

“No,” he tells me, his voice raspy as he continues to touch himself.

“Do you mind?”

He starts to shake his head but then catches himself and says, “No,” again.

I grin. “Good. You’ll need a safeword.”

“Golf,” he breathes, and I can’t help chuckling.

“Why golf?”

His words are spaced out in between his groans of pleasure. “It’s…the only sport I…don’t like, and I suck at it.”

I laugh. “Is that why you don’t like it?”

“Maybe.” He gives me a grin but then moans and closes his eyes as his neck tilts back and his mouth opens in bliss, eyes closed.

“Stop touching yourself for now. Hand on the headboard, beautiful,” I tell him.

“Just one hand?” he asks, confused, and I nod. “Right hand. You’re left handed, right?” He nods, and obeys, gripping the post on the headboard with his right hand. I slide one end of the cuffs on his right wrist before slotting the other end around the post he’s holding on to and clicking it shut. “That feel okay?”

He tugs a bit and then nods. “Yes.”

“If you don’t like it, use your safeword,” I instruct.

“I will. Why just one hand?”

I grin. “Because you’ll need the other one.”

“Oh, shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna torture me, aren’t you?”

I chuckle and position myself between his legs. “Maybe a little bit. But it will be worth it.”

I grab the extra pillow and tell him to lift his hips. He does and I slide it underneath him.

Warmth spreads through my chest at the knowledge that he’s trusting me with this, with him. Trusting me to make him feel good and keep him safe. My eyes track over his toned, lean body, all splayed out for me, his thick cock oozing precum, the head red and angry, all those delicious tattoos on display.

“Spread your legs for me, beautiful,” I tell him, and he does. My mouth waters and my dick jerks when I see that perfect little pucker fluttering wildly for me. And god he smells amazing. Like peaches and man. I want to bury my nose in his ass and get drunk off his scent.

“Stroke yourself,” I say. “And don’t stop unless I tell you to. I’m gonna eat you out until you’re fucking begging for me. And then I’m gonna ride that gorgeous cock. You don’t touch me at all. I want your hand on your dick until you’re inside me, and then you move it up with the other one and grab the bedpost. Understand?” My voice gets huskier as I speak and my dick is straining, barely contained inside my g-string.

His pupils darken and he shivers. “Yes.”

I lower my head and spread his ass cheeks apart, then feast on his hole as he strokes himself. I suck and lick and nibble, leaving him a slobbery, panting mess. My saliva coats his taint and his hole, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. His pucker flutters and he gasps and moans as I slide my tongue over it again and again, then delve inside him.

“Shit!” he cries. “Oh god, shit, fuck. Nnnggg.”

God, this is making me so damn hard. I have to be careful not to come myself because I don’t want that to happen until that perfect cock is buried inside me.

“Shit,” he wails again, and this time there’s even more desperation in his voice. “Oh, fuck, please. Please, fuck, I can’t.”

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