Chapter 16 DIEGO #2
I hoped he wouldn’t, but we’d agreed to work our way up slowly, and I knew it was for the best. I came to the couch and knelt on it beside him. Put my hands in my lap and sat back on my knees.
He reached up and twirled one of my curls around his finger. “You’re beautiful.”
I flushed from my chest to my ears. My head was spinning, my body keyed the fuck up. I wanted to just throw myself into his arms…
But I also wanted him to do the work to make me. So fucking much.
“But you’re still in trouble,” he reminded me. “So…” He gestured to his lap.
I pretended to be disappointed, pouting again.
He unwound my curl from his finger, let his hand fall to my side—and suddenly smacked my ass with a loud, satisfying crack. My skin went tight, the static electric sensation of impact spreading from my asscheek into my thighs, my balls, my cock.
I thought I would yelp, but instead I whimpered and fell forward.
He settled me carefully into the position we’d worked out before, with one of his thighs beneath mine, just below my cock, and the other thigh under my chest. That way I could use my hands and knees on the couch for stability without sacrificing the sheer vulnerability of the position.
His legs were warm and hard through his jeans, and the underside of my cock pressed into his inner thigh, the head buried in the cushion between his legs. This poor couch. Seriously, I was spending a fortune in upholstery cleaner and it was worth every penny.
“You good?” he murmured.
I nodded. It was uncomfortable but secure by design. He stopped steadying me and ran one hand over the small of my back, the other over the ass cheek he’d already cracked. I took a deep breath, trying to relax into him, trying to focus on his hands, his body, his voice.
“You have anything to say?” he asked.
I could hear the smile in his voice, and smiled into the couch in reply. Shook my head.
He said, “Too bad.”
I felt him tense beneath me and tightened up instinctively. His hand stung my ass again, this time down lower, and I started. Then, as the fizzy sting spread from the point of impact, I took another deep breath and relaxed into it.
“That’s better,” he murmured, voice all hot and gravelly.
Warmth surged down deep in me and I arched, rubbing my cock against his thigh as best I could. It wasn’t enough, and I made a little sound of protest.
“Nevermind,” he whispered, then swatted the same ass cheek in a slightly different spot. Then again, and then one more time, each one progressively sharper. When no more came, I wriggled again, just barely able to rub off against the couch if I angled just right.
He trailed his fingertips over my stinging asscheek, drawing soothing circles and shapes.
Felt like he’d smacked more than just my ass; everything was suddenly super sensitive, from my hard nipples rubbing against his jeans to my knees jammed into the upholstery.
He started on the other ass cheek, three times in a row, harder and harder. Another deep breath, and then he flattened one hand to the small of my back, rubbing it as I let all the air out.
“There you go, baby,” he whispered.
And this time I turned my face toward him, closed my eyes, and relaxed.
The butterflies in my belly quieted, and the feeling of his hands alternately stinging and soothing me, of his legs propping me up with ease, even the rhythm of his steady, quiet breathing against my side was utterly fascinating.
The localized spikes of pain melted into something new when they hit the desperate friction against my nips and the desperate fullness in my balls.
A cloak of sensation dripped over me, and for a while I just reveled in it, content with wanting.
But after a while—I had no idea how long, except that my ass was good and hot and Taran was rubbing my back again—I noticed the wet spot forming under my dickhead.
I rocked to rub myself into it and against his warm, hard thigh, and a moan vibrated through my entire fucking body.
“Fuck, Diego…” he said with a little sigh. “I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this.”
“Mmm, no,” I said, eyes fluttering open. Mostly, I could see the couch and his side. I continued to dry hump his leg and the couch as I insisted, “I’m not.”
He pulled his hand back again. Then paused.
I looked back to see what the hell was keeping him, and his arm was just hovering in the air. I rocked into his thigh and whined impatiently.
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“I’m not,” I whined, half thrilled that he was playing the game so well now, half dying for him to keep going.
He settled his hand on the back of my thigh.
“Taran!”
“Not until you say it.”
I blinked, craning to look up at him to see if he was seriously asking me if I was okay, or if this was part of the improv.
He had that smug smile on his face, his glasses halfway down his nose like a fucking stockbroker hard at work.
I laughed. “I want it.”
“You want what?”
“I want… to pay for what I said.”
“Is that why you said it?” he asked.
“Taran!” I wriggled so I could get more of his leg against my dick.
“Why did you say it?”
“Because I want you to beat my ass!” I laughed, absolutely loving this new turn of events, now I realized what was happening. Bringing the part of the edging he was especially fucking good at—knowing when to make me wait for more, when to make me beg—into the spanking moment.
Who says business dorks can’t be creative, huh?
“Why?” he asked, voice still low, quiet.
I couldn’t help sounding delighted, though. “Because I’m a filthy little slut who’s desperate for attention.”
He swatted my half-numb ass sharply. “That feel good to say?”
“Mm-hmm…” I buried my face in the couch and rocked into him.
“Then I guess I can—” he hesitated—maybe to laugh, maybe because he forgot what he wanted to say, who knows—but then finished with, “I can let you ruin my jeans while I finish beating your ass.”
“I fucking love you,” I said to the couch cushion.
“I know.” He readjusted so his legs were together, my hips hinged over them.
His gorgeous, hard cock pressed into my lower belly through his jeans; I rubbed mine against his other thigh with every new burst of electric pain, moaning into the couch.
The sensation sank deeper and deeper into me, past my skin and into my muscles, until it felt like all my energy, all his energy, was too big for our bodies. Or maybe just mine.
A few more controlled swats, agonizingly slow, and I started rocking faster.
Desperately humping his thigh while he doled out two, then three more swats to each cheek.
I moaned and growled, begging wordlessly, shameless in his lap.
When my begging reached a fever pitch, he whacked me again, lighter now but sending a starburst of static electric pleasure all through me.
His jeans felt wet against my pulsing prick—and as I had the realization, I shuddered hard, fucking his thigh.
His hand came down again and my balls emptied again, even more forcefully, and I moaned at the top of my fucking lungs with another overwhelming, full body wave of orgasmic pleasure.
I panted into the couch, still rocking my hips against him, even though it hurt—maybe because it hurt? He was so wet now, so wet from me. Fuck, I made a fucking mess…
He ran his hand up my spine, then back down again, and murmured, “Thank you, baby.”
He kept petting me for long seconds, our breaths resynchronizing; my breathless panting, his measured inhales. My ass felt a little bit like it was on fire, but the deeper pain I’d started to feel toward the end had worn off. My arms and legs felt heavy, my prick sticky.
Eventually, he said, “Can we move?”
I nodded, opening my eyes and twisting around to look at up him. “You okay?”
“Goddamn near came in my pants, but yeah. What do you need?”
I tried to think about that. But honestly. Nope. “You.”
He smiled and helped me crawl off his lap, then reached for me again.
I shook my head and tugged at his half-buttoned shirt.
I watched as he obligingly slipped out of his clothes, revealing all that soft hair I’d been dying to bury my face in, then the deep dip of his navel, his fat cock, the head messy with pre-cum, and those thighs…
I leaned forward, fully prepared to faceplant in them.
He caught me and arranged us front to front, stretched out on the couch. Thankfully, most of my cum had ended up in his jeans, so I wasn’t stuck lying a puddle of my own bodily fluids. Like, even in the aftermath, his cum was pretty hot. Mine, not so much.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close, so I buried my face in his tits, rubbing my face against the hair, then licking his nip lazily. “I knew you’d be good at this.”
His chest bounced with gentle laughter. “How?”
“Because you’re a fucking freak.” I laughed too but a lot more lazily. “Like me.”
Which was true, though it wasn’t the only reason. I was way too far gone in the moment to think about words, however.
“I sure am.” He kissed my forehead.
Him and his fucking forehead kisses. Christ. I never stood a chance. Not at seventeen and sure as fuck not at twenty-seven.
He ran his fingertips over my blazing ass cheeks, tickling the hairs there in lazy circles. I pressed into the heat of his erection, rubbing against it with my thigh purposefully. It gave a little jump when I licked his nipple, then sucked.
“Fuck.” The word caught in his throat, half-formed.
The use of my limbs was returning slowly, so I wriggled farther downward, to kiss his belly.
He tensed. “Should I go get the cold—?”
I reached upward and covered his mouth with one hand. My tongue was busy circling his navel and then sliding down and down and down. I wanted his skin against mine. I wanted to feel him unravel, and know that I’d done that, and that was mine.
And okay, true to form, I also wanted a big, juicy load of cum from him.
Was it unhealthy that I was trying to fill up the empty places in me with everything I’d been missing out on with him for the past eight years? And probably managing to conflate that idea with him filling me with load after load?
I mean, who cares? It’s hot.
***
I let him bring me water and a cold washcloth after my insatiable hunger for cum was satisfied.
At first I thought it wouldn’t make much difference; not that Drake never did aftercare stuff, but he had a limited menu, if you know what I mean.
Like most of the stuff we’d tried out together, Taran was treating it like eleventh grade chemistry: Doing all the research and then using it to impress the fuck out of me.
And goddamn, if being a kink nerd wasn’t incredibly sexy.
And goddamn if I didn’t enjoy drinking ice cold water and letting him cool off my blazing asscheeks in bed. Like fucking spa day came early.
“How you doing, daddy?” I asked when he finally curled up at my side.
“Hand hurts.” He grinned. “That ass.”
“Mmm, I do have an amazing ass. How’s it look?”
“Pink. Not red, though. I let up at the end because I wasn’t sure if you were just… too horny to notice if it was too much?”
“Too blissed the fuck out,” I said with a snort. “That was sweet of you.”
“We’ll figure it out. And I’ll get better at pretending to have any kind of authority over you.”
“No, lover boy. You’re the perfect fucking combination of unserious and enthusiastic. When I started to get a little nervous, you were amazingggggg.” I set aside the water and peeled the washcloth off my ass, glancing back at it. “Oooh, that looks nice.”
“Yeah, spoiler alert: It looks nice whether it’s pink or brown.”
“Could be browner. My ass is always the whitest part of me.” I sighed. “We should go to a nude beach.”
“That… might be my veto,” he said with a snort.
I rolled onto my side to face him and snuggled back into his chest. And then turned my face and planted it directly between the bed and his armpit. “God, you smell fucking good.”
“I definitely don’t.” But he laughed, humoring my obsession as usual.
“You wanna sleep? Or do you need to stay up a little while,” I asked into his pit hair.
“Don’t think I can sleep yet. I feel really… good seems like a stupid word.”
Shortcake, who’d been MIA since we got home, and who could blame her, hopped up onto the bed and settled in her usual spot against Taran’s foot.
“Talk to me.” I reluctantly pulled my face back far enough to see his eyes.
He smiled. Put an arm around my waist and pulled me in close for a soft kiss. “If you don’t need anything else, can we just—do this?”
“Anything we want, Taran.”
THE END