Page 20 of Blackmail
Worse, I wanted to take them farther. Further? I’m too turned around right now to think. Still inside out with want. I can’t stop thinking about how much I enjoyed his tears and his choking on my fingers. I like knowing all those reddened bite marks on him will turn to bruises that he’ll see in the morning a little too much.
Before I can say more, I clear my throat and shut my mouth. It’s not like me to feel uncertain. This territory, even for me, feels uncharted. I hate it.
“Hang on.”
Simon puts one hand out, palm against my chest. I’m still stiff and turned on, and that simple touch puts my pulse into overdrive. Thank goodness I’m too young for a heart attack.
At least, I hope so.
Simon licks his lips, and a small smile forms. “You think you took things too far?”
Right now, I’m not sure what I think about anything. “A friend of mine owns a kink club. He’s always talking about the importance of negotiating beforehand.”
Simon chuckles, his still-damp eyes lit with humor. He steps out of his pants and comes toward me, close enough that if he took one more step, he’d brush against my cock, which is still tenting my pants.
“We did, Sebastian. Remember the car?”
Remembering the things I told him I wanted to do to him sends electricity through every nerve ending. “Of course.”
He presses his lips against mine. I can’t hold back the groan as I push my tongue into his mouth. Or the gasp after he sinks his teeth into my lip. Hard.
“What the hell was that?”
“I bit you. Thought maybe it would help if I hurt you back a little. Returned the favor, you know?” He grins.
My hand comes to my lip as I wonder if I’ve ever been at a loss for words before now.
Simon bats his wet lashes. “What you did was intense, yes. I fucking loved it. And we did negotiate. You laid it all out in gloriously filthy fucking detail in the restaurant parking lot, remember? When you told me what you wanted to do to me in your car, and I basically told you to bring it the fuck on, that was me giving consent. And unless you’re a huge gaping asshole, you would’ve stopped if I’d said so, right?”
I nod. Of course I would have. “Plenty of people have called me an asshole. You’re right, though. I don’t get any enjoyment out of sex when the other party isn’t enjoying themselves also.”
“Right. So. You don’t realize it, but you checked in. Repeatedly. Every time you threatened to stop, every time I did the thing you asked of me rather than have you take your hand off my dick, that was you giving me an out and me saying ‘fuck yes, keep going.’”
Simon rubs his palm against the side of my neck. It’s a simple but strangely intimate gesture. I can’t remember anyone touching me that way before.
“Someone’s got natural domination instincts,” he whispers in my ear. “Or maybe you just knew how to read me. Either way, you played my body like a fucking fiddle.”
My grip around him tightens. The praise makes my chest swell.
“Look, plenty of guys like to get rough in my line of work. I don’t mind, but not many of them actually care much about me feeling good. I never once came when your husband fucked me, you know? I don’t think he cared.”
I can’t hold back my satisfied rumble. Simon never came when Tony fucked him, but for me, he was moaning and writhing so hard when he shot into my hand that he could barely stay standing. I’m sure I’m not supposed to feel like I’ve won something, but I do.
My hand is on autopilot. My thumb brushes at the wet trails going down his cheeks. His breath catches, and my body responds with a wild beating in my chest.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I murmur. I didn’t mean to, but knowing I did stirs up a truly perverse satisfaction.
A dark fear niggles at the back of my head, a voice telling me to turn back before I do something I can’t undo, but right now, I’m too caught up in this man in front of me. My sperm donor was a violent man. Knowing how good it felt to hurt someone and how I want to keep doing it…there’s a slithering unease under my skin.
What does it make me if I enjoy hurting someone the way he would have? I saw him hit my mother once. The bastard probably would have been proud of what I just did.
“I wanted to ruin you,” I confess.
Whether I mean ruining Simon for any other man, or just in general, I’m not sure. Both, I think.
He clears his throat. “Hmm. Well.” Simon’s fingers slide between the top buttons of my shirt, popping them open. He undoes the next one and then the next one before continuing. “Lucky for you, I’m excellent at fulfilling fantasies.”
Okay then.
