Chapter 38 Riggs #2
“Nothing more?” he breathed in deeply, body going heavy and pliant against mine. I could have probably gotten the toy and my dick inside of him for how loose and horny Smith was.
“I want you to come,” I corrected. “Touch yourself while you ride me, and once you’ve finished, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
Smith arched a brow and arched his back, fucking riding me like his body had been designed for it.
He took his cock into his hand and stroked himself to the point of no return, grinding his hips down on my lap as spurts of cum shot out of his cock and painted his stomach all the way up to his chest.
He collapsed onto his back with the toy still in him, chest heaving with every desperate and clear-headed breath.
“What’s my surprise?” he asked, gorgeous lips spreading into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
I climbed over the top of him, brushed his hair back from his face, and kissed his forehead before crawling off the bed and standing to my full height.
“You know I love you, right?” I asked, teasing my fingers through his hair.
“I know.” Smith blinked slowly, content and sated. “I love you too.”
“Do you remember how to make this stop?”
He nodded, still slow going. “Red,” he murmured. “Why?”
I tightened my fingers in Smith’s hair and dragged him off the bed. His ass hit the ground with the dildo still inside of him and he yelped, hands flying up and grabbing my wrist to ease some of the pull on his hair.
“Riggs, what the—”
I hauled him out of the bedroom and into the living room before he could get another word out, and it didn’t take long for him to realize exactly what was going on.
Smith was still afraid, but he was eager…
a treacherous combination. Flinging him over the arm of the couch, I used one hand to hold him down against the cushions, the other to spank him hard across his ass.
The dildo had fallen out of him in the hallway, and his well-fucked asshole puckered and gaped at me, so after another spank against the back of his thighs, I plunged two fingers straight into him.
Smith cried out, fighting against me, but I held him down harder, bent in half over the couch as I alternated between spanking him, dragging my nails down the insides of his thighs, and thrusting as many fingers into him as his hole would allow.
When it took work to get two in without worrying about hurting him, I delivered one sharp smack to Smith’s backside before stepping away from him and shaking my hand out.
“Don’t you dare move,” I warned before going into the bedroom to find the bottle of poppers in the tangled sheets. I grabbed them and a wood paddle, then went back to the living room to find Smith exactly where I’d left him.
I tucked the bottle into his hand, not needing to warn him to use it sparingly.
He knew what I wanted from him, what I’d be able to give him if he played along.
A series of deep breaths later and I was three fingers deep in him again, switching between glaring blows of the paddle against the backs of his thighs and the deep penetration of my fingers into his hole.
“Gonna come,” he warned, which was no real warning at all.
I barely had enough time to pull him off the couch before his second orgasm shot out of his cock, narrowly avoiding the couch cushions.
With little grace, I threw Smith onto his ass and turned on him, paddle in one hand and my cock in the other.
I was in the same state I’d been, but Smith’s face was flushed, his eyes hooded with lust. Even as he scrambled away from me, back toward the bedroom, we both knew he didn’t really want to get away.
He managed to make it to his feet before we reached the hallway, but I had figured he would. I dropped the paddle and was on him before he could get far, notching my dick between the slick cheeks of his ass and reaching around with my free hand to take his swollen dick into my fist.
“It’s too much,” he complained, fighting against me.
Smith was strong, but he was small, and it took little work to keep his face pinned against the wall. I flattened one hand against the back of his head to pin him in place and kept stroking him with the other, laughing when he tried to fight.
“Riggs, stop,” he begged, but that wasn’t the way to end this, and we both knew it. I released his cock long enough to spit into my palm and then I returned my hand to his dick, stroking him with much more force than would have been considered necessary.
“No.” I grunted into his ear. “Not until you come for me again.”
The magic number in my head had been four, and he was already right on the brink of that threshold. I didn’t think he’d have gotten there in less than two hours, but if this was how his body was going to be, Smith was in for a long and exhausting weekend.
“I can’t,” he whimpered, knees trembling. Smith was an absolute mess and I’d never loved him more.
“Come, Smith.”
It was all he needed; a weak burst of pleasure rolled through him and his legs finally gave out.
I took advantage and shoved him the rest of the way down to the floor and buried my cock in his mouth, thrusting hard into the back of his throat until my own pleasure coiled into something loose and manageable at the base of my spine.
I thrust gently in and out of his mouth, enjoying the heat of his spit and the press of his tongue, then I slowly eased past his lips and joined him on the floor.
“Hey,” I coaxed, pulling him into my lap. “You good? You with me?”
“I’m good,” he murmured, flinging limp arms around my shoulders. “Not sure I’m really here though.”
“You’re a fucking dream come true when you’re relaxed for it.” I kissed Smith’s temple and helped him to his feet.
We’d left a mess already and we had two nights and a day and a half left together before we had to return to LA. I reminded him of it as I helped him back into the hot tub, knowing full well the heat wasn’t ideal for him but also knowing the jets would help his muscles.
We soaked in the tub until Smith was conversational again, and only after I was confident he wouldn’t drown did I leave him in the tub to begin the arduous work of cleaning up.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I gathered the toys and supplies, dumping what I needed into the sink and returning the rest to the drawer in the nightstand.
I brought a towel out to Smith, who managed his way onto the porch with surprising grace considering how fucked I’d left him.
He let me towel him off, tie it in a knot around his waist, then he followed me into the cabin and collapsed at the dining room table.
We’d brought some snacks because this had been my plan all along, and I supplied him with enough water and charcuterie to hold him over until I found the welcome book with a restaurant listing and got something ordered for us.
“Every time I think you can’t surprise me, you do,” Smith said after the food had been delivered and spread across the table between us.
I’d let him get dressed, a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, but I’d pressed a short and round plug up his ass before he’d put his pants on, not because I wanted him ready for anything, but mostly because I wanted him horny and hard for the whole weekend.
He came harder when he wanted it.
“How’s that?” I asked.
He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t have words for it. I’m just…continually surprised by you.”
“Affectionately?”
“Very,” he agreed. “Today, though, I think it’s about the two sides of you, the roughness and the tenderness, how they exist inside you in equal measure.”
“Sides of the same coin, I think. Like dominance and submission.”
Smith made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat and let the conversation go quiet.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of service and pleasure.
I kept the plug in him for the whole drive home, taking Smith right to bed as soon as we got inside his apartment.
I tied him to the bed and sucked his cock until he came down my throat, three fingers buried in his ass, and he rode my hand as he came like he’d never felt anything better in his life.
Somewhere across the room, his cellphone rang in his pants, and I sighed, closing my eyes and ready to ignore it.
The weekend had been perfect, and I wasn’t ready to let the real world back in.
I should have made him keep his ringer off for longer, but he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep and risk not setting his alarm for work the next day.
I peppered gentle kisses down the curve of Smith’s neck as I took his time working loose the knots around his wrists. Whoever was calling would call back if it was important, I thought, and then Smith’s phone blessedly went silent… but immediately started to ring again.
“Sounds important,” I muttered, climbing off the bed to get his phone from the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Sounds annoying.”
I swiped to accept the call and put his phone on speaker dropping it on top of his chest as I set to work with the knots on his other wrist.
“Hello?” Smith greeted, still bound and unable to look up and see the caller ID. I hadn’t bothered paying attention, more focused on alleviating his worries over the phone call and how they aligned with me getting him out of bondage.
The other end of the line clicked with static and a series of beeps and then it was automated voice coming through the speaker, cut off at the start, “collect call from the Los Angeles County Sheriff. Do you accept the charges?”
“What the fuck?” Smith yanked his hand, still a little too tangled in the ropes to be useful. “I accept. Yes, I accept.”
There was another beep, then a tired sigh.
“Smith,” a voice said, uncertain to me but still familiar. “It’s Finn. Can you come and pick me up please?”