Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Too much?”
“No, Sir.”
“Get on your knees.” He does, looking up at me, so beautiful and needy. Naked, caged, and willing to do anything I tell him because he trusts me and knows I’ll always keep him safe. “Open.” He does, and I press my thumb into his mouth. I’d hoped for this, brushing and using mouthwash I found in his bathroom earlier while he was cleaning the kitchen. Leaning over, I spit into his mouth, then on his face, rubbing it into his skin. “You’re so beautiful,” I tell him, then slowly begin to remove my pants and underwear. “You don’t see it, do you? How fucking beautiful you are.” I rub my hard, leaking cock over his face, James’s tongue sneaking out to swipe at it. “So submissive, so strong, so fucking open in your need for me, for my body and what I can give you. I’ll never get enough of you.”
“I’ll never get enough of you either. Can I suck you? I need it.”
I push my dick into his mouth, nearly come at the feel of his tongue against my tender flesh, at the hunger he has for me, how he doesn’t try and hide it, not here, not when it’s the two of us.
I thread my fingers through his hair, touching him tenderly, caressing and massaging him while fucking his pretty throat. He takes it, hands on my thighs, nails digging in, being my hole, my boy. My damn everything. I fuck his mouth until he cries for me, until his face is streaked with pretty tears. When I pull out, he wraps his arms around me, hugs me, pressing his face against my stomach, and begins to really cry, sobbing sounds muffled by the way he’s pressed tight to me. “Hey…shhh. That’s it. I’m here. Are you okay?” Did I misread something? Use him too hard? I’ve taken his mouth harder than that before.
“I’m good…just…feeling too much. I don’t know how to describe it. I just can’t hold it in.”
Jesus, this man. This beautiful, perfect man.
I pull him to his feet. James comes easily as I lead him to the bed. We climb in together, and I pull him close again, wrap my arms around him, my dick going soft because that’s not what this moment is about anymore. I kiss away his tears, touch him everywhere, want him to feel loved because he is. This man is so used to feeling alone, unloved and unneeded, that everything from today is too much for him, and it’s overloading his senses.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Maybe I should have read that situation better, should have anticipated the emotions he’s feeling and made better choices.
“No,” he says. “Don’t be sorry. I want it. I held it all in before. I didn’t know how to let it out, but I can with you, and I want to keep doing it, want to keep feeling it.”
We’re both on our sides, facing each other, my hand running up and down his back and side. “Do you want to know I love you? That I’m in love with you, James?” I kiss his tearstained face, my heart thudding in an unfamiliar way. I’ve never put it all out there to someone before, never had these kinds of feelings, and it’s a scary thing.
His eyes widen, big and happy. “You’re in love with me?”
“Yes.” I smile, then press my forehead to his. “Very, very in love with my good boy. My dirty, slutty boy who likes to be used by his Sir.”
James trembles. “Can I lie on you?”
I roll to my back. “Yes.”
He climbs on top of me, straddles me, nuzzles his face in my neck, then my armpit, breathing and licking and tasting. “I’m in love with you too. It’s not as scary as I thought.”
“No?”
“No. Because I trust you.”
I seal our mouths together, hands on his face, holding him in place so I can kiss him with everything I have.
“Fuck me, Sir. Please. I want your cock. Need to feel you stretching me. I want you to come in me.”
There’s absolutely no way I can deny him that. I flip us over so James is on his back. His cock is wet with precum as I pull the cage off him.
He keeps the lube in the bottom drawer in his nightstand, so I bend over, reaching down to grab it, and… “You kept them?” I ask, seeing a baggie full of yellow sticky notes. They say a little bit of everything—tell him to have a good day, that he’s a good boy, that I’m thinking of him or proud of him or dirty things I want to do to him. “You kept all my messages?”
“Every single one. I’ll keep them all if you keep giving them to me.”
“I’ll never stop,” I promise, and I won’t. If I didn’t love him before, I’d be a goner now. “How does my favorite hole, the one I’m in love with, want to be fucked?”