Page 38 of M.M. Scrooge
Ash’s hands land on my lower back and gently push me toward those big hairy thighs. But I can’t really lie ass-to-the-sky on this man’s lap. Can I?
“Have a little faith in yourself.” Drake pats his thighs. “Unless you think you can’t bear it after all?”
I scowl, grind my teeth, and lower myself to the couch. Climbing into another man’s lap is awkward as hell. We’re both large men. I don’t fit longways on this couch at all. I have to bend my knees to make it work.
He helps me get into position, and that almost makes it worse. Big hands guiding my body this way and that. Shame rolls through me in waves, tensing my muscles and softening my dick. My balls ache from the denied orgasm. If I’d thought for a second this was going to be fun, I was dead wrong.
We’ve managed it. I lie prone across his thighs, my junk hanging between them like beggars at a feast. The heavy weight of one hand rests between my shoulder blades, the other right on my ass, both of them still.
Ash appears with a pillow, and we maneuver it under my stomach. I would say that’s nice, but nothing could make this nice. It’s better, though. My neck is at a more comfortable angle now that I can sort of prop myself up with my elbows.
“Take a few deep breaths,” Drake says.
I want to hold my breath just to spite him, but that’s stupid. So I do it. Inhale, exhale, repeat. “Just get it over with.”
“Don’t rush me. You aren’t the one in charge here.” He moves his hand, and it’s all I can do not to flinch. But he isn’t spanking me. Not yet. Just rubbing circles over my flesh. In any other circumstance, this would feel good, but I’m just too worked up to enjoy it. The suspense is killing me.
His fingers knead the muscles around my neck while the hand on my ass continues its circles. If he’s trying to get me to relax, it’s not going to work.
Desperately, I try to think of something else. Not his skin touching mine, this miserable night, or how shitty of a boyfriend I used to be. Something distracting. Like programming a workout for a client. That’ll do.
Daniel comes to mind, and my cock gives a valiant little twitch. But no, I won’t think of that time in the shower. I think about his goals. Cardiovascular health. Endurance. General improved fitness. This I can work with. Start on the treadmill to get warmed up. Increase that heart rate. Then some activation drills and—
Smack!
The sound registers first. Then the impact. No pain, no sting. Drake was…gentle. But heat climbs my neck and races across my cheeks all the same.
He just spanked me. I’ve been spanked. And his hand is still on my ass, soothing the area he hit. Oh god, and Ash is watching! That makes it even worse. To be observed lying here like a glutton and just taking it.
Smack. Smack.
Both cheeks, one, then the other. Still no pain, but the humiliation is real. I hide my face in my arms.
Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.
More rubbing. More circles. His skin on mine. Both of us warming up.
“Harder.” Ash’s voice. I almost glance up, but resist. I don’t want to see him seeing me like this.
The longer the pause between strikes, the more my confusion builds. Why isn’t anything happening?
Drake’s hand lifts from my ass, and I brace myself for the next impact, but it doesn’t come. My quads are shaking like after a good workout, but I’m not even using them. I’m just lying here. The tremors begin small and grow until I’m practically vibrating in Drake’s lap. Not getting spanked is almost worse than getting spanked.
When I can’t stand it anymore, I unbury my face to see what’s going on. Two sets of eyes stare at mine. Ash’s with fervor. He wears his emotion on his face. Easy to read. He’s into this, stroking his cock where he stands before the couch, probably for the best view of my bare ass.
But Drake’s eyes? I can’t read him, but he’s entirely too patient for the activity in which we’re currently engaged. The only clue I have that he’s even into this is the swell of his cock beneath me, hard as steel and obviously eager. I’m almost glad to feel it. Otherwise, I’d think he’s bored.
“There you are.” Drake’s free hand trails down my spine, where sweat has begun to collect, a long line from nape to crack, stopping before delving between the heated flesh. “You hid for a while. We were just waiting for you to decide to come back.”
The itch to hit him aggravates my skin, and I clench my teeth. Arrogant prick.
“Ready?”
“If you ask me that one more time—”
“What are you going to do, Max, huh? Bail out? Admit you couldn’t take it after all? You know your safe word. Either use it, or say, ‘Yes, sir,’ so that we can continue.”
One look at the rapt expression on Ash’s face makes my decision for me. I’ll go through with it. I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of chickening out. I ground out the words. “Yes, sir.”
