Chapter 19 #2
I considered how to answer that. “He didn’t try to force it or anything. But he kept insisting I should just try again.” I rolled my eyes and huffed sharply. “One night, I blocked a puck with my forearm. Lost feeling in my hand for a few minutes.”
Devon grimaced and shook out his own hand. I had no doubt he knew exactly how a stinger like that felt.
“I was down for the rest of the period, but by the end of intermission, I was fine. Sore as hell, but I could play again, you know?”
“Yep, I get that.” Then his expression darkened. “He… Tell me he didn’t use that to try to convince you to get tied up again.”
“He did. Like, I knew going back out on the ice that I could get hit like that again. Or worse, because God knew I’d had worse, and I kept playing hockey.”
“Because playing hockey was your job,” Devon muttered.
“And my passion. He thought it was fucked-up that I could take all these injuries on the ice and be pushing to get back out even before the trainers thought I was ready. But a couple of bad experiences in the bedroom, and I wasn’t willing to try again.”
“Tabarnak, what a dick.” Devon paused. “Er… I mean…”
“No, you’re not wrong.” I chuckled as I cut off another bite of lasagna. “He saw it as a sign that I didn’t care as much about our sex life as I did about hockey. So it, uh, it caused some issues.”
Devon muttered a few more Quebecois curses as I chewed. Then he asked, “Was he like that all the time? Or just about this?”
“Like what? What do you mean?”
“Weaponizing everything? Acting like everything you did was a slight on him?” Devon made a face. “Because he kinda does sound like a dick.”
I sighed. “He… wasn’t always like that? Or maybe I just didn’t notice.
I don’t know. But when it came to sex, he definitely was.
It took me way too long to realize our sex life was about ninety-five percent what he wanted.
” I thought about what I’d said. “Which… maybe that’s why we started inching toward submission.
I just didn’t realize that was what it was. ”
Devon furrowed his brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I spent most of our sex life doing everything I could to please him. I got off on him getting off. When he wanted to try something, and I went with it, the thing that turned me on the most was how thrilled he’d be that I was game. And how much he’d enjoy it.”
Lips quirked, Devon nodded. “So a natural sub in the hands of a selfish asshole.”
“Pretty much.”
“How long were you married?”
“Eighteen years,” I whispered. “We started dating when I was seventeen, he was sixteen. Got married when I was twenty. We were each other’s firsts for everything—literally everything.
Neither of us knew what we were doing, and there was a ton of pressure for us to be a shining example of a perfect couple. ”
“Why would—oh. Right. Because you were the first out player and the first gay player to get married.”
“Yep,” I said bitterly. “I don’t think that helped us. The fame. The pressure. The demands of hockey. And then I retired, and suddenly a lot of that was gone, and we realized we were practically strangers at that point. So… we separated.”
“Wow,” he said. “That’s a long time to be in a messy relationship.”
“Tell me about it.” I blew out a breath. “And since the divorce, I haven’t dated because… God, starting over in the dating world at my age? That’s intimidating as fuck.”
“I bet. So… just hookups, then? Including a little kink?”
“Hookups, yes.” I moistened my lips as I held his gaze. “Only one got into kink, though.”
“Only—” Devon sat straighter. “Wait, you’ve only done that with me?”
“I mean… I kind of brushed up against it with others? But you were the first one who really…” I struggled to articulate it. “A few guys before you would put me on my knees, maybe pull my hair and slap my ass. But you were the first to dominate me.”
His lips parted, and I wondered if he was as breathless as I suddenly was.
“I think that’s why I got so hooked on you,” I confessed. “Because you do what nobody else has ever done.” I swallowed. “What I’ve never trusted anybody else to do.”
He gulped. “You trusted me to do those things right away, though. When we knew nothing about each other.”
“I can’t really explain why. Just… something about you. I knew you could take me there without going too far. And I knew as soon as I met you that I wanted to please you. Whatever it took.”
Devon’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he seemed to collect himself, and the way his eyes narrowed made my heart pound and my dick swell.
“Finish eating.” He picked up his own fork again. “Then you’re going to please me.”
What could I do but obey?
After we’d eaten, I started to get up with my plate so I could clean up, but Devon halted me with a look. He didn’t say a word, just eyed me sharply.
I froze. Then I eased back into my chair and put down my plate.
His smile said that was the correct response. Warmth rushed through me—I’d pleased Sir.
“You’re going to wash the dishes,” he informed me. “By hand. Washed, dried, and put away.”
I nodded but didn’t move. Somehow, I knew there was more.
“First…” He gestured at me. “Strip.”
I blinked. “Strip?”
That sharp look returned.
Heart suddenly thumping, I got up and did as I was told, leaving my clothes in a folded stack on the chair I’d been occupying. The whole time, Devon watched, sitting back in his chair with his hand subtly working his visibly hard dick through his jeans.
“Good boy,” he told me when I’d put my underwear on top of the stack. “Now…” He gestured with his free hand at the dishes and the counter. “Clean up.”
I obeyed. The kitchen wasn’t cold, but the air was cool against my skin, as if my nerve endings needed to constantly remind me I was bare-ass naked.
On some level, I thought this should be embarrassing or humiliating—I did not have a humiliation kink—but it was…
hot. Sexy. Though I didn’t dawdle, I also didn’t rush as I scrubbed every plate, glass, and utensil while my Dom watched me and fondled himself.
By the time I was done, I was no longer questioning why it was so hot. It just was, and I loved it.
“Very good,” Devon said as I put the last few utensils in the drawer.
I smiled at him. “Is it weird, a coach who likes being told what to do?”
“Not at all.” He rose and came closer. “People in positions of power—they make the best subs.” Sliding his hand over my hip, he added, “So eager to give up control.”
Then his mouth was on mine. As he pulled me in, his clothes emphasized our vastly different states—and our similar ones. I was completely naked. He was fully dressed. Between us, separated by a layer of denim, our dicks were rock-hard.
He drew his hips back and slid his hand over my hard-on. I gasped, breaking the kiss, and in an instant, his lips were on my neck. His other arm snaked around me, his sleeve brushing my bare skin.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“You’re all mine this week, Jack,” he growled against my throat. “I’m going to mark you. I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to make you scream in ways you never knew you wanted to scream.”
“Yes, please, Sir?” My words came out as little more than a ragged breath.
His lips curved just before he kissed beneath my jaw. “That’s my good boy.” He teased my balls with his fingertips. “So eager to please me.”
I couldn’t breathe. I could barely stand. Speaking? Out of the question.
Devon lifted his head and claimed my mouth again. “Let’s go in the living room,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m not going to beat you or fuck you tonight, but I’m absolutely going to torment you.”
That sounded absolutely perfect.
In the living room, we sat on the couch. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but curling up and making out wasn’t it.
I didn’t object, though. Holy fuck, I had no objections at all.
I felt like a teenager, just kissing and touching while my cock stayed hard as steel.
And my naked body against his dressed one made this dizzyingly hot.
Every time I touched him, there was a barrier of fabric between us.
I could feel his body heat, but not him.
I had him here in my arms, but I couldn’t touch him. Not the way I desperately needed to.
Devon, though, had his hands all over my bare skin.
His featherlight fingertips trailed up and down my back, my arms, my hips, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
His hot palm rested on my ass cheek, then slid down my thigh, his familiar soft but callused hand making sure I knew this was Devon touching me.
The only place I could reach was above his collar, and I took full advantage, seeking out every inch of unblocked skin. His neck, his face, through his hair—God, I craved the contact his clothes kept out of my reach.
After I had no idea how long, Devon drew back. He ran his tongue along the inside of his kiss-swollen lips.
“Floor,” he ordered. “On your knees.”
I was there so fast I may as well have teleported. Kneeling between his powerful legs, I gazed up at him, my skin cool in all the places that were no longer touching his clothes.
He bit his lip as he fondled himself through his jeans. “You look so sexy like that. Naked. On your knees.” He licked his lips again. “Bet you’d love it if I sucked your dick, wouldn’t you?”
I shivered so hard, I gasped. “Yes, please?” I swallowed. “Yes, Sir?”
His smile made the room tilt. “Good boy.” He rubbed himself harder. “Maybe I’ll do that sometime this week. Lick you and suck you until you’re crying because I won’t let you come.”
I couldn’t help letting my eyelids flutter closed for a second. It hadn’t occurred to me that a Dom could—or would want to—suck dick. But if anyone could dominate the hell out of me with my cock down his throat, he was sitting above me right now.
“I’d love that, Sir,” I whispered shakily.
“I know you would. And if you’re good…” His shoulder rose in a subtle half-shrug, and my heart slammed into my ribs. I’d be good. Not just to earn that blowjob, but because I needed to please this man like I needed oxygen.
I glanced downward, the sight of his hand stroking his cock through his jeans making my mouth water. “May I…” I hesitated, still not completely sure where the lines were.
“May you, what?” He watched me with heavy-lidded but sharp eyes. “You can ask for anything you want, Jack.” One corner of his mouth rose. “I just can’t promise the answer will always be yes.”
Why did that turn me on so much? The thought of him keeping everything I wanted out of my reach? Dangling anything I desired—sex, pain, an orgasm—until I was shaking all over and pleading through tears? Jesus fuck.
“So. What is it you want, Jack?”
The word “everything” was close to tumbling out of my mouth, but I held it back. I let my gaze rest on his hand and dick, then looked up to meet his eyes. “I want to swallow your cum, Sir.”
Devon’s breath stuttered. “Yeah?” He started to undo his fly, sending a surge of anticipation straight down my spine and into my own cock. “You want to blow me, Jack?”
“Yes, Sir.” I watched, transfixed as he freed himself from his pants. He stroked himself, the motions long and slow, just inches from my face. “Please, Sir.”
“Mmm, I love how politely you ask for things.” He slid his other hand into my hair and urged me closer.
I eagerly obeyed and leaned in, expecting the salt and heat of his cock on my tongue, but the hand in my hair tightened.
Hard. My scalp burned in the same instant my mind flailed with confusion.
Why wasn’t he in my mouth? Why wasn’t I tasting his skin and his pre-cum and—
“That’s right,” he purred, still stroking himself. “Stay just like that.”
I almost whined. After too many days of only seeing him like this on a FaceTime screen, of wishing from a distance that I could lick up every drop of cum he left on his hand and his abs, I wanted it all now. His cum, his dick—fuck, I needed to take every inch of that impressive cock in my mouth.
“That what you want, Jack?” he teased. “You want my hand out of the way so you can blow me?”
I couldn’t help licking my lips. “Yes. Yes, Sir. I…” I flicked my eyes up to meet his. “Fuck my mouth. Please. Please, Sir.”
He bit back a groan. “Mmm, fucking your mouth would be amazing, wouldn’t it?” His fingers twitched in my hair, pulling harder. “Nice and slow, watching myself slide in and out of those gorgeous lips.”
The whimper escaped this time. My own cock was woefully neglected. I needed some friction, goddammit, but he hadn’t given me permission.
“Sir…” I couldn’t help it. “Please?”
“Or maybe you want it rough,” he went on, tightening his grip as he picked up some speed. “Maybe you want me to pound into your mouth until there’s tears and cum all over that pretty face?”
“Yes,” I panted. “That. Slow. Fast. All of it. I… Yes, Sir. Please.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. He was pumping himself furiously now, still holding me dangerously close without actually letting me taste him.
Gazing down at me again, he whispered, “You’re hungry for dick, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Hungry for… Hungry for yours, Sir.”
“Uh-huh.” The corners of his mouth rose. “You so are.”
And then, without warning, he pulled me forward and thrust into my mouth.
I almost came myself as he forced his cock almost to my gag reflex, and with a throaty groan that sounded like Quebecois profanity, he flooded my mouth with cum.
He held me there, hips twitching a little as he tried to buck deeper into my mouth.
With a ragged sigh, he released my hair, and I sat up, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. He gazed down at me. I gazed up at him. We were both out of breath even though only one of us had come.
Then Devon leaned down, tipped up my chin, and kissed me as if he wanted to taste himself on my tongue.
When he relented, he looked right in my eyes.
“We’re going to have so much fun this week, Jack.”