Page 52 of For You, Sir

He gave a low chuckle. “I can still be ‘Sir.’ Would you like that?” He gave my balls a rough squeeze through my slacks and my cock jumped.

Would he think less of me if I said yes? Shame flickered through my mind—residual traces of my parents’ disgust toward servility.A Good Son wouldn’t want to suck cock and be bossed around.

I mentally shoved the scolding voice aside, giddy at my own rebellion. If I wanted to place myself under Einar’s benevolent heel, I would. I’d let him command me, fuck me, because I wanted him to. Even yielding power felt strangely empowering.

“Yes, Sir.”

I slid my hands up his muscular back, searching the ridges and valleys there, pulling him closer. When I closed my eyes, my world was nothing but sensation—the rasp of his stubble against my lips, the restraining pressure of his body weight, and zesty scent of his bergamot shampoo. He rocked his pelvis against mine, his cock digging into me with firm demand.

I leaned forward, mouth parted for a kiss, but he sat up, just out of reach. Kneeling, he paused briefly to strip off his shirt and unbutton his jeans. I seized the moment to grab some tissues from the table and drop them onto the puddle of tea.

“What did I just say?” Sir asked sternly.

I would be a bad butler to let his table get ruined, but it was also wrong to disobey—I couldn’t win. While I stammered for an answer, Sir grabbed my hips and flipped me over, bending me over the sofa. He reached around and jerked my belt off, unfastened my slacks. I heard the jingle of the buckle, now a weapon in his hand.

My stomach tightened as a memory emerged: being small, and standing before my belt-wielding father, while Ho-Sung sobbed behind me. Standing in my brother’s place because Dad was too drunk to remember which of us had burned that hole in the rug.

I braced myself now, as then, gritting my teeth. I didn’t want this, but it wouldn’t kill me.

Sir put the coiled belt harmlessly aside and grazed the back of my shoulder with his teeth. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down, skimming my thighs.

I exhaled and relaxed onto the couch cushion. Right. Sir already knew my limits because he’d asked.

Paradoxically, feeling safe made me crave rough handling—the precarious thrill of pushing the boundaries with a trusted partner. I could put my arm straight into the jaws of a wolf, knowing he would bite, yet trusting he wouldn’t break the skin.

Sir leaned over my back and whispered in my ear.

“What should I do with this naughty butler?” he whispered, caressing my buttock.

My mind reeled through a dozen things I wanted him to do—biting, bullying, and crushing the breath from me… “Whatever you think is best, Sir,” I panted.

He slid his hand down my backside, and his pinkie finger trailed into my cleft. I sucked in a breath at the sensation. Self-conscious of how often Sir stared at me back there, I’d finally got waxed. I’d only meant it to look tidier, but never expected this heightened feeling as well. Denuded of hair, the skin between my cheeks felt satin-smooth and vividly sensitive.

I pressed my lips together to suppress a moan. Sir loved when I got vocal, but I was a little embarrassed over how easily his slightest touch got to me.

“First, I want something to eat,” he murmured into my ear.

It was such a sudden change of topic, my brain struggled to catch up. My cock ached in frustration, but he was right. It was mid-afternoon, and I’d never made lunch. How had I become so careless in my butler duties?

“I’ll fix you something,” I said, reaching to pull my pants back up.

“That’s not necessary.” Sir put his hand on mine.

I twisted to look over my shoulder at him. “Sir?”

He smirked and pulled my buttock aside, staring unabashedly at my private places. My face flamed, and I turned to face the couch again, fists clenched.

“I’ll just help myself to something sweet,” he said casually.

“Oh, fuck!” I gasped, gripping the couch.

His tongue lapped at my ass—hot, wet, and teasingly soft. I bucked forward to squirm away—the sensation was too shocking to handle. My erection bumped the plush microfiber of the couch, as Sir held my hips in place.

There was no escaping it—I was dessert.

Chapter 19 (Einar)

Jun tried to pull away, but that only made me want him more. His protests triggered a primal instinct in me.

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