Not Safe for Work(75)

I rose, biting back a grunt. Stupid knee. “How do you feel?”

He glanced at the cuffs. Shifted his hips a little. Tested the spreader bar with one foot, then the other. “Like I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

“What a coincidence.” I slapped his ass. “You’re not.”

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He might’ve cursed, but I couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered—he’d be doing plenty of that in a moment.

I absently flipped the Wartenberg wheel’s handle between my fingers. Where to start, where to start? Last time we’d played with the wheel, he’d been on his back. This time, a whole new canvas was exposed—his back, his shoulders, his ass. So many sensitive places. So many places he wouldn’t be expecting it.

Finally, I touched it to the middle of his thigh, just below his ass cheek.

And just as I’d hoped, he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck!” Cuffs clinked. The bed creaked. He took a few sharp breaths. “Shit…”

I chuckled softly. As he started to settle again, I rolled the wheel downward. He grunted, his hamstrings visibly tensing and his toes pressing into the carpet.

I lifted it off his skin and didn’t move or make a sound until he’d started relaxing again. Then I rolled it across the back of his knee.

He cursed again. Grinning, I ran the wheel up his other thigh. Then, as slowly as humanly possible, I rolled the wheel along the crack of his ass. Then across the small of his back. Then all…the way…up…his spine.

The wheel crested the base of his neck, and he swore into the comforter.

“Doing all right?” I asked.

He grumbled something, but quickly added, “I’m good.”

Lightly trailing the wheel along his armpit, I asked, “Not being a smartass, are you?”

“No!” He flinched away from the wheel but couldn’t really go anywhere, especially since I followed. “Thought…you weren’t a sadist.”

“I’m not.” I ran my fingertip along the path I’d just traced. “I don’t get off on causing you pain. I get off on f*cking with your senses. Sometimes that means pain. Sometimes”—I ran my fingertip along the path I’d just traced, making him gasp—“it doesn’t.”

I ran it lightly down the back of his thigh. “This doesn’t hurt, though, does it?”

“No. Not…not really.”

“Then I’m not causing you pain, therefore…not a sadist.”

“Semantics.”

I brought the wheel up and, as gently as possible, rolled it along his balls. He gasped, his whole body tensing, and I asked, “You really want to argue semantics?”

“Not a sadist. Got it.”

“That’s what I thought.” Still, I teased his balls with the wheel for no other reason than that I loved the way he choked on his breath.

“There is nothing hotter than having you like this.” I slowly rolled the wheel over his ass cheek, right along his crack. “Totally immobile, and totally compliant.” With my free hand, I adjusted the front of my pants. Goddamn, but he was a turn-on. “You like this?”

He exhaled. “L-love it.”

“Even when I do this?” I rolled the wheel down the side of his hip.

He grunted again and nodded. “Yes. Even…even when you do that.”

And there was no way I could resist f*cking him when he was like this.

I set the wheel aside. As quickly as I could, I stripped off my clothes. Then I pulled a condom and some lube from the nightstand. He craned his neck a little to look over his shoulder, and our eyes met right when I tore the condom wrapped with my teeth.

Mouthing a silent curse, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the mattress again.

“Your decision.” I started rolling on the condom. “Fingers first, or just go straight to f*cking you.”

“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Please f*ck me.”

“So polite. I love that.”

His answer did more than turn me on. Perhaps without knowing it, he’d let me know he was relaxed enough mentally to at least assume he’d be relaxed physically. If I met much resistance, I could always go back to gently stretching him with my fingers until he yielded to me.

As expected, he was tight, especially without being stretched first, but he pushed back and leaned against me, and when the head pressed past the tight ring, he moaned, and it was a sound made of pure pleasure. I withdrew, then breached him again.

“God.” His shoulders quivered and his fingers curled around the covers. He groaned as he took my cock deeper.

“And just think,” I said through my teeth. “No blindfold, but you still can’t see if I’m going to use this.”

I picked up the Wartenberg wheel, letting it clink enough for him to hear, and he muttered, “Fuck…”

Grinning, I kept f*cking him, but didn’t touch him with the wheel. The effect was exactly what I’d hoped for—he twitched and wriggled, probably anticipating the spiny touch, but with no idea when or where it would finally come. If it would come.

Yes, Rick. I can f*ck you and f*ck with your mind at the same time.

I picked the most random place I could—a couple of inches below his rib cage—and touched the wheel there. Just as I’d hoped, he recoiled and groaned, and we were off—rolling the wheel all over his torso and hips while my cock moved in and out of his ass.