Their lips brushed, and James jolted as if he’d been touched with a live wire. Before James had a shot at thinking he was back on firm ground, Cal squeezed his cock painfully hard. James cringed, but didn’t break the kiss.
He’d seen Spencer cringe like that and still make no attempt to protect himself—like his body and mind had lost one vital connection, until Spencer had leaned into it with everything he was—all critical facilities seemingly switched off. Subspace? Nick had talked about how subs went to that special place in their heads, so maybe that was it. If James wasn’t there—he couldn’t be yet, could he?—then Cal thought he could get him there. Though he still wasn’t sure if he was out of his depth.
He’d play that part by ear. “Get naked. Now.” His voice was low and sharp, and it denied James the kiss he was looking for. Just another brush of lips, no true connection, not yet, though Cal hungered for it himself. Frustration, though. Frustration was a good thing.
James seemed undecided, so it was Cal who stepped back, which in turn seemed to release James from the spell he was under. James took a moment to recover, then remembered what he’d been ordered to do, and began to strip. Cal didn’t remove a thread. Relative position in the room, state of undress, height, tone—all ingredients to power. He’d been aware of it in a rational way, but when it became part of sex, no rationality survived. Everything became something of a science, or an art form.
Yeah, right, I could major in Domination Sciences. That’ll go down well with the world of academia.
James put the last of his clothes over a chair a couple feet away from him. Then he faced Cal, the down-up flick of his gaze and the renewed colour in his cheeks suggesting he was as acutely aware of his nudity—and Cal’s lack thereof—as Cal was.
Cal glanced at James’s fully erect cock, then met his eyes and grinned. James returned the grin, the expression somewhere between shy and aroused.
“Touch yourself.” Cal nodded emphatically towards James’s hard-on. “But don’t come.”
James hesitated. He closed his eyes for a second, lips tightening into a bleached line, but before Cal could warn him against disobeying, James wrapped his hand around his cock. From the first stroke, his brow furrowed. He bit his lip, and his breathing slowed, as if he were trying to control himself.
“A little faster,” Cal taunted.
James released a strangled sound, but he obeyed, stroking just a little faster.
Watching James’s forearm, Cal decided those toned muscles could be rippling a bit more. “Harder.”
James pressed his lips together but obeyed, and Cal’s blood pumped faster as exertion brought out even more definition in James’s arm. He stepped towards him, not being subtle at all about watching James’s hand. “Tell me what you were thinking about during your meeting today.”
“My—” James’s hand faltered. “My meeting?”
Cal walked past him, sliding his fingertips across James’s abs and licking his lips when the muscles contracted beneath his touch. “Or are you going to tell me it was all business?”
“It was . . .” James exhaled hard. He glanced down as if he needed the visual reminder of what his hand was supposed to be doing. “It was difficult to concentrate.”
“Is that right?” Cal watched his own fingers trail down James’s arm, the soft touch making the muscles twitch and screwing up James’s rhythm. “Why was that, James?”
“Kept thinking. About . . . about you. This.”
“This?” Cal ran the backs of his fingers down James’s forearm. “Were you fantasising about what we’d do when we got here?”
Eyes shut tight, James nodded. “Y-yes.”
“Tell me.” He took his hand off James’s skin, which seemed to jar him and mess up his rhythm again. “What did you think we’d do when we got here?”
James shook his head. “Dunno. I just wanted . . . it to feel like it did in the car.”
“Did you want to suck me off again?”
James was quiet for a moment. He opened his eyes, again glancing down at his hand on his cock. “If . . . if that’s what you wanted.”
The words pushed the breath out of Cal’s lungs. God, James really did want this, didn’t he? The orders, the domination. Nerves tingled at the base of Cal’s spine, and an uneasy feeling fluttered in his chest; was he cut out to do this for James? To be exactly what he needed?
He banished the thought. Of course he was. Otherwise James’s admission wouldn’t have sent that little thrill through him at the same time.
“I think I want you to fuck me.”
James’s head snapped up and his hand stopped abruptly. “What?”
Cal arched an eyebrow. He glanced at James’s hand.
Quickly, James started stroking himself again, groaning with frustration.
“You heard me.” Cal stepped behind James. He wrapped his arm around his waist and let his other hand slide down the arm that was furiously working at obeying Cal’s undoubtedly aggravating command. With his hand on James’s wrist, the rhythm of James’s strokes reverberating through his own arm, Cal whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”