Not Safe for Work(76)

The sounds he made…

God.

The sounds.

A soft whimper here. A growled curse there. Cuffs rattling and giving away every time he jumped or clenched his fists. Sometimes he took slow, deep breaths. Other times he gasped. Held it. Held it longer. Slowly released or blew it out all at once.

The chain between the handcuffs pulled as tight as it would go. Muscles and veins stood out on his forearms. I couldn’t quite see his knuckles as he gripped handfuls of the comforter, but I’d have bet money they were blanched. His breathing was uneven, ragged, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Everything about him—the sight of him, the sounds he made—was unspeakably sexy, and tonight he was mine, all mine, to f*ck and tease, and—

To hell with it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything except f*cking him.

I dropped the wheel on the bed again and held his hips. “Oh my God. I love the way you look like this.” I rocked my hips a little faster. “I love the way you look anyway, but this is just…” I ran out of breath as I watched my dick slide all the way inside him. “Unreal.”

A low, throaty moan escaped his lips. He sounded like he’d tried to say something, but then his muscles were trembling and he was pressing his forehead into the sheets, and all that came out was another moan.

I slid the heels of my hands up to his shoulders. “Feel good?”

No words came this time either, but the meaning came across loud and clear. I gripped his shoulders, squeezed my eyes shut and rode him good and hard. Every time my hips hit his ass, the impact jolted his whole body and rattled the chains between his wrists and at his ankles, driving it home that he was bound, immobile, at my mercy, submitting to me completely and loving every second of it.

“I want you to come,” I panted. “Come for me.”

Rick swore under his breath. His hips rocked in time with my thrusts, rhythmically tightening him around me, and maybe he was trying to push himself over the edge by f*cking against the bed while I f*cked him from behind—all I knew was he was hauling me over that edge with him.

“Come,” I growled. “Fucking—”

“Oh God!” He jerked beneath me, his ass impossibly tight, and…

And that was it. One second, I was holding back and giving orders and trying to get as deep inside him as he’d take me, and the next, I was buried to the hilt, the whole world pulsing in time with my orgasm.

I rested my forehead between his shoulder blades. Carefully, I pulled out, and we both gasped as my cock slid free.

“Holy f*ck,” he slurred.

“My sentiments exactly.” I kissed his spine. “D-don’t move. Just gonna get rid of the condom, and then I’ll untie you.”

“’Kay.”

If he’d tried to stand and take a step with the spreader bar, he’d have wound up flat on his face, and as I tried to move, I realized I wasn’t in much better shape. My feet could move independently, but every bone had turned to rubber. My equilibrium was f*cked. Even my hands didn’t quite know how to accomplish a simple task like taking off a condom, tying it and tossing it into the trash. Somehow, I figured it out.

Despite the trembling in my legs, I knelt beside him and took off the cuffs around his ankles. I set the bar on the bed so he wouldn’t trip over it, and then freed his wrists.

With a hand around his arm, I helped him upright. “Slow,” I said. “Don’t want you blacking out on me.”

He laughed, sounding almost drunk. “I think I’m okay.”

“Still.” I wrapped my arms around him and lifted myself up enough to kiss him lightly. “Feel better than before?”

“Much.”

“Good. Let’s grab a shower, and then we can relax for a while.”

*

After we’d showered off all the sweat and lube, we pulled each other close in the middle of my bed and lay there quietly for a while. I thought he might fall asleep. A few times, I nearly drifted off myself.

We both stayed awake, though.

This was one of the best parts of playing with a sub—lying together, quietly letting the dust settle while he rested in my arms. After an intense scene, demanding things of him while I overwhelmed his senses, we both needed this, and I always loved it.

Tonight, I made sure to be especially affectionate with him—stroking his hair, holding him, caressing his skin—to ward off any aftermath of the hiccup at the club. No matter how much I tried to persuade him that this evening hadn’t been a failure in the sense he thought it was, that I wasn’t angry at him and I didn’t think less of him as a sub, nothing would get that point across like making sure he had what he needed now.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You really don’t like being called a sadist, do you?”

“Well, you’re not a masochist, are you?”

His lips quirked. “Okay, fair point.”

“I mean, strictly speaking, I suppose I am. But whenever I’ve put it out there that I’m a sadist, I draw a much different crowd of subs than if I say I’m not a sadist. The one crowd wants to be tortured well beyond what’s fun for me, and the other…not so much.”

“That makes sense. And if I’ve called myself a masochist, it’s more or less the same.”

“Labels aside, we seem to be on the same page about what’s enjoyable and how much is too much.” I grimaced. “Even if it still winds up being too much sometimes.”