Page 37 of For You, Sir

“Embarrassing," I protested, squirming.

“Not to me,” Sir said. He didn’t let up on my nipple, flicking it with the pad of his thumb. “It’s a compliment.”

My face burned hot to my collarbone. Sir wanted me to moan out loud like a porn star? I remembered the video title:“VOCAL Twink…”Oh, God! Hedidwant that…

“It’s communication, Jun. So I know what you like.” He moved to the other nipple, lapping at it until I clutched his head. He peeked up at me with a half-smile. “Don’t you want to improve communication with your boss?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

Sir sucked my nipple harder, hard enough to bruise, and I let a cry escape when the pain-pleasure reached its peak. It was cathartic, like my voice brought the act to completion.

Sir released my nipple and crawled up my body until his legs covered mine, hip to hip, his arms bracketing my head on the pillow. “Good boy,” he said breathlessly.

I frowned a little, not sure I liked that. It sounded infantilizing.

“My good butler,” Sir amended, and Ididlike that.

I lifted a bare leg to hook his hip, clinging to his back as silent encouragement. Sir chuckled, and it wasn’t a laugh of mockery, just enjoyment and familiarity. He slid my underwear off, then knelt between my parted thighs and gave my naked shaft a kiss. “Lovely.”

Ahh, here we go…I ached to feel his mouth on me, but he cupped my balls and lazily rolled them in one hand.

“Lift your knees,” he ordered. I obediently slid my heels along the mattress, closer to my backside. “All the way.”

I furrowed my brow, not sure what he meant, but then he showed me by clasping my knees and pushing them up and out toward my shoulders. A gasp of surprise escaped me as I found myself lewdly spread and vulnerable.

“Hold this,” he said, squeezing my knees. I reluctantly did as he commanded, placing my hands on my knees, holding myself open. I turned my face to the side, embarrassed by the exposure. But Sir just leaned back and stared brazenly at everything on display!

“H-Hey,” I objected. I tried to lower my legs, but Sir grabbed under my thighs and pushed me even further into position until my shoulder blades dug into the mattress and my hips lifted off the bed, stretching my lower back to the point of discomfort.

I squirmed in protest, but Sir only smiled down at me wickedly. “I didn’t say to let go.” There was a cruel gleam in his eyes, a reflection of the Viking of my fantasies. He shamelessly drank me in, raking his eyes over my exposed parts.

I put up a half-hearted struggle, kicking my feet, and he grabbed one ankle. He returned his attention to the sock garter encircling my leg just below the knee, and let my hips lower, relieving my taut back muscles. He ran a hand up my stockinged shin and licked beneath the vertical strap connecting sock to garter. I made a frustrated sound.

The pad of his finger swirled around my anus, and I gasped.Oh God, oh God!I’d touched myself there before, but never had someone else do it to me. I started to lower my legs to cover myself up, but his ice-blue eyes admonished me with a warning glare, so I obediently resumed my position.

His finger returned, sweeping across my clenched hole. I pressed my lips together as he explored my most sensitive skin. If he was going to be so crass, I wished he would apply more pressure, but his touch was feather-light, circling and circling, but providing no relief. A part of me wanted to hump backward to find the friction I craved, but, even awash in lust, I couldn’t debase myself that far.

Sir flashed me a lupine smile, then leaned over me toward the corner of the bed and opened the drawer to his nightstand. The smell of his sweaty body on top of mine lit up my hungry senses. He returned to my side with a bottle of lubricant and popped open the lid with an audible snap.

My stomach flipped in fear-excitement as he drizzled lube onto his fingers. A cold, slick fingertip probed against my hole. “Ah, no,” I whimpered in half-hearted protest.

He withdrew his hand, looked at me with concern. “You want to stop?”

I shook my head. “It’s just, uhm, hard for me,” I murmured, “but I don’t mind.”

Sir leaned back on his heels, frowning doubtfully. “Don’t mind?” he repeated. “You should be fully on board if—”

“I am!” I interrupted hastily. “I want it.” I met his gaze earnestly so he could see it was true. “What I mean is, uhm…” Heat flushed my face, but I forced myself to say it: “I don’t mind if Sir…makesit hard for me.”

“Hm. Makes you do naughty things?” A cheeky smile slid across Sir’s face. “Things good butlers shouldn’t want to do?”

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. I nodded.

“All right,” Sir said with a cocky smile. “The client is always right, after all. Consider your protests duly disregarded.”

“Yes, Sir,” I agreed, throbbing in surrender to his ownership.

“And when you really need to stop, say ‘red,’ all right?”

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