Page 50 of Flagrant Foul
Oh Jesus. Please don’t tell me he likes it. Please, Lord, do me a solid. I need it.
“Did you just spank me?” What’s happening in his eyes is insane. Waves are crashing. Tiny crystals exploding with delight.
“No!” I say sharply. “I didn’t spank you. I, Ismackedyou.”
His nose crinkles. “What’s the difference?”
“A spanking is like, sexual, or whatever, it’s meant to cause pants feelings and, and a smack is purely discipline. And that’s what that was,” I clarify quickly. “A smack.Discipline. Because you fucking need it.”
Bells ring. Heavy, old bells beaten hard. A clear, rich sound that chimes over and over, tightening some things in me and causing others to go lax.
He releases my jersey, but before it can fall down enough to offer him modesty, he uses both hands to rub his rapidly pinkening ass. Reams of skin and flesh flash at me. Hands, cheeks, thighs, and calf muscles.
I don’t think. I act.
I take him by the back of the neck and push him down until his upper body is flat on the table Ragnar's tank sits on. He doesn’t resist in the slightest. He’s like putty in my hands. Soft and malleable. A supple, pliable thing that giggles adorably.
I yank the jersey up, bunching it in my left hand and lifting so hard he’s on his tiptoes. My other hand swings back in a broad arch and lands a loud, tacky slap on his ass.
Again.
And again.
The feel of his flesh on my palm, the density of it, the softness, the muscle. It’s the thing.Thething I’ve needed all my life. He moans when I make contact with him. Like an animal. Like sex. Like a man taking a dick.
“Don’t stop,” he groans. “Immm gonna cum.”
That snaps me out of my trance.
“No! Don’t!” I hiss.
I step back and pull the jersey down as hard as I can.
Ragnar swishes a judgmental fin and looks at me indignantly.
Oh great. Just great. On top of everything else, I’ve made a mortal enemy of a Siamese fighting fish.
Teddy gets up unsteadily and blinks vacantly at me.
“You look like I feel,” he says, words slurring a little. I expel a muddled selection of vowels and consonants in his direction. He nods as if what he’s said makes perfect sense. “Do you want me to blow you? I’m happy to do it. It won’t fix you completely, but it’ll take the edge off.”
I leap away with a hand clamped over my junk and the other clutching at my neck like I’m looking for a string of pearls I know damn well isn’t there.
Bells chime again.
I straighten and compose myself. The extra space my ungraceful leap bought is like a breath of fresh air. It’s exactly what I need.
Teddy shrugs. “Suit yourself, handsome, but the offer stands. I mean it. You can have my throat whenever you want. You can wake me up in the middle of the night and say ‘Open wide,’ and I will. No questions asked.”
Fuck. I can’t let him talk like this.
I should spin him around and send him to his room immediately. Failing that, I should send myself to my room and lock the door until common sense has prevailed. Instead, I hear myself mumble, “So, like, do you have a thing for that, giving head? You mentioned it last night as well…”
“Oh yeah, I love it. It’s one of my favorite things to do…mainly because it’s so easy to close my eyes when I’m on my knees and pretend the guy I’m with is you.”
That takes my brain offline completely. A record is spinning, but there’s no needle near it. No sound. Only a flat vinyl disk going around and around. “Is that, um, is that something you do?”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head at himself, raising an unapologetic shoulder. “I do it a lot. I can’t get off if I don’t think of you, so I kind of have to. I was thinking of you the first time I touched my dick…and it’s also how I got off last night.” He gives that a second to land and take effect. “I mainly do side stuff when I’m with other guys because I don’t like topping, and I find it hard to relax enough to take a dick that isn’t yours. But I like giving head, and I’m super good at it. I like getting head too…” He chuckles salaciously. “But that’s just ’cause it feels good to have your dick in a mouth, you know?”
