And just as he murmured, “Eleven,” I took his thick cock in my mouth.
“Oh shit…” He released a strangled sound, and his whole body tensed like he wanted to fuck my mouth, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all, and even if he could, he didn’t dare because I’d forbidden it.
“T-twelve.” He followed it with a string of profanity, and then managed to slur, “Thir’een.”
I lifted my head. “Clearly, Rick.”
He swept his tongue across his wet lips again, squirming as the machine kept fucking him and I kept stroking him. “Thirteen.”
“Good.”
He smiled and then closed his eyes. “Fourteen.”
I leaned down again and swallowed his cock until he just pushed my gag reflex.
“Fif…fifteen.”
I slid my hand over his balls. As I gently teased the soft skin with featherlight touches, his dick stiffened in my mouth. The faint taste of salt made my own balls tighten.
Not yet, Rick. Still five more numbers.
“S-sixteen. Shit.” He was trembling even harder now, the ropes creaking with every movement, and for a moment, I was sure he was going to lose it, that I’d have to punish him, but then he groaned. “Seventeen.”
God, I loved it when a man could control himself like this. When he could get right to the edge and stay there, disciplined even when he wanted nothing more than to let go.
“Eighteen.”
I took my hand off his balls and felt for the machine’s controller.
“Nine—holy shit!” Despite the ropes, his hips jerked and his legs twitched as the machine picked up speed. His dick could not possibly have gotten any harder between my lips, and I envied the dildo for being in his ass right then—he must have been insanely tight as he fought to stay in control.
“Nineteen. Nineteen. Fuck!” The words came out as sobs. Tortured, trembling, ragged, delicious little sobs.
I squeezed his cock just a little harder.
“T-twent—”
Semen flooded my tongue. His whole body jerked again, as much as the restraints would allow, and he kept slurring, “Twenty…twenty…twenty…” as he came hard in my mouth.
As he started to relax, I lifted off him. He sighed, eyes squeezed shut, and for a moment, the only sound was the steady whirring of the machine that still steadily fucked him.
I slowed the machine and then stopped it, but didn’t pull the toy free yet. Then I came around, gently turned his head toward me and pushed my cock into his mouth. He opened willingly, moaning softly as he accepted every inch I gave him. I pulled out a little, then pushed back in.
“You did good,” I whispered, stroking his hair as I slowly fucked his mouth. “Most people don’t last beyond twelve. Should’ve…known you were controlled enough.” I rocked my hips faster as the edges of my vision darkened. “Might have to come up with something more challenging.”
Rick groaned around my cock, and God knew if it was a sound of arousal or “oh shit,” but either way, it was fucking hot. I gripped his hair and thrust between his lips, careful not to choke him, especially as my orgasm rapidly closed in.
“Might have to play with that machine more too,” I breathed. “Watching you lie there helpless, and getting fucked, I could do that all damned night.”
This time, he whimpered, and that was all I needed. I held his hair tighter and cursed through grinding teeth, clinging to what little focus I had left so I wouldn’t force myself too far into his throat as I came. He kept me coming too—swirling his tongue around the head of my cock, groaning as he swallowed every drop—until I finally had to pull out just so I could breathe again.
He swept his tongue across his lips as he gazed up at me with those beautiful eyes.
“Fuck, your mouth is awesome.” I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You were amazing tonight. We’re done.”
He released his breath, and the karabiner tumbled from his fingers. “Thank you.”
I kissed him again, this time gently on the lips, and murmured, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Chapter Twenty-One After a shower together—I didn’t trust his legs to hold him up quite yet—we got into bed. Rick downed a bottle of water, and then we both dozed for a little while. This was the kind of exhaustion I didn’t mind. The bone-deep heaviness from work was a bitch, but postcoital fatigue? Joints still aching from every motion? Yeah, I could cope with that.
Beside me, Rick stirred. He rubbed his eyes, and my heart fluttered at the faint welts on his forearm. There’d be more on his legs, and those would probably be visible tomorrow. The ones on his wrist would be beneath his shirt sleeves, but if the cuffs pulled up, and if the light were just right…
My God.
Rick Pierce. At the office. Wearing welts from ropes I’d put on him. And he’d probably still be feeling everything the machine and I had done tonight.
Why yes, I could get used to this arrangement again, and I was so, so relieved that we had time for each other now.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“So good. Especially now.”