Chapter 23
JACK
How I didn’t come the moment Devon’s lips brushed my dick, I’d never know.
How I lasted even beyond that… fuck.
Sitting back on the couch, gazing down at him through eyes that didn’t quite remember how to focus, I was absolutely flying. Pain lit up all over my skin. That toy still vibrated mercilessly in my ass. My earlier need to get hard had nothing on my current need to get off.
And the most talented mouth was absolutely going to town on every inch of my cock and balls.
But still… somehow… I managed not to come.
I wanted to. Needed to. But God, I needed to ride this out. I needed to savor the bliss of Devon licking, sucking, teasing, tormenting me with his perfect lips and tongue. When he added tight, slick strokes of his hand up and down my shaft while he focused on the head—holy shit.
I dug my fingers into the cushions on either side of me. “Jesus, Devon…”
He hummed around my dick, which somehow amplified the vibration inside my ass and drove a pathetic whimper from my lips.
He did it again, and my spine arched off the couch as the whole world blurred.
I wanted this to last—when was my Dom going to blow me again, after all?
—but I wasn’t so sure I could take much more.
“D-Devon…” I shakily carded my fingers through his wet hair. “Can… May I come, Sir?”
I didn’t know if the faster, tighter strokes were permission, but I lost it nonetheless, managing a breathless “I’m coming!” a split second before he definitely knew. Devon moaned as he kept pumping me, and I think my soul might’ve left my body.
As body and soul settled back on the couch, I closed my eyes and released a breath. Holy. Fuck. All my bruises still glowed, my welts still ached, and my muscles still burned, and somehow those all made the bliss and release even more intense. How had I never known how amazing pain could be?
The vibration inside me mercifully stopped. I hadn’t realized it was getting to be too much until it was gone, and I wasn’t at all ashamed of the choked moan I released as the relentless stimulation finally ceased. Every nerve ending in my ass was still buzzing, but the relief was amazing.
I wasn’t aware of Devon moving until he was over me. The towel was gone, and his thick thighs straddled mine as he gazed down at me with fire in his eyes and a grin on his lips. He was stroking his own hard-on now, the tantalizing sheen of pre-cum on the head making my mouth water.
I licked my lips. “Can I—”
“You’re going to stay just like that,” he purred. “I’ve watched you come all over yourself on FaceTime, and now it’s my turn.”
I bit back a groan.
His grin broadened and those beautiful eyes narrowed. He pumped himself a little faster, and he sounded breathless when he spoke again. “I fucking wrecked you, and now I want to come all over my handiwork.”
“Oh God,” I breathed. “Devon…Sir…”
He swept his tongue across his swollen lips. “You make my name sound like a dirty word.” He started rocking his hips, fucking into his fist. “I love it.”
I had no idea how to speak, never mind what to say. All I could do was stare, watching him take himself higher as he raked his eyes up and down my welt-littered body.
“Calisse,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You spoil me, Jack.” He locked eyes with me again. “Let me beat you… suck you…” He bit his lip and groaned. “I’ve marked you all over. Every inch. Made you… Made you mine, Jack.”
“Fuck, yes,” I whined.
The low growl from his throat seemed to thrum through me even more than the vibrating plug had.
“Sacrament, I can’t wait to ride you and come in your ass.
” He closed his eyes, and the cords stood out on his neck as he jerked himself off for all he was worth.
A flush bloomed across his face and spread down his throat and chest, and when his eyes flew open, they were full of even more fire than before.
“Do you want that, Jack? Do you… want me beating your ass and then coming inside it?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes, Sir. Please.”
More curses rolled off his tongue, and then he shuddered and came, his hot cum dotting my stomach and chest. Some of it landed on his hand, too, and when he offered it to me, I licked it off and sucked his fingers like my life depended on it.
“God, yes,” he purred. “So fucking beautiful.”
I gazed up at him, and he smiled down at me. Then he leaned in and kissed me. I didn’t know if I had permission, but I wrapped my arms around him anyway. That must’ve been okay, because he sank against me, lazily exploring my mouth as we held each other.
After ages had gone by, he drew back and looked in my eyes. “I should take out your toy. Put something on those welts.” He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. “You need water too.”
I just nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Do you do this every time?”
“Do what?” Devon continued stroking my hair, which he’d been doing for the last ten or twenty minutes.
I’d kind of lost track of time. Ever since we’d moved to the bedroom and he’d tended to all the marks he’d left on my skin.
I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes.
Now he was on his back and I was partly draped over him beneath the thin sheet, my head on his chest and an arm and a leg slung over him.
“All of it,” I murmured. “The lotion. The water.”
“Aftercare.” He kissed the top of my head. “Always.”
“Oh.”
Silence settled in for a while. I felt good. Achy and dreamy. Like I’d just had the most intense workout of my life, played a chippy game with lots of checking and fighting, and then I’d been fucked mercilessly until I was a boneless wreck. I was sore and tired, but I was blissed out beyond words.
“Is this new for you?” he asked softly. “The aftercare?”
I swallowed. “It’s all new.”
His fingers stilled in my hair. “Even this part?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But…” He hesitated. Then his fingers started again, carding through my hair in a gentle, repetitive motion that could’ve put me to sleep. “What about after sex? You don’t… There’s nothing?”
I half-shrugged. “Some cuddling, I guess? Sometimes?”
“Oh.”
Something about his puzzled tone made me curious. I shifted onto my side so I could see him, and he mirrored me. “Is that weird? Not doing this?”
“I don’t know if it’s weird. But…” His eyes lost focus, and I gave him a moment to gather his thoughts.
When he apparently had, he whispered, “A lot of people think aftercare is only for kink. And like, yeah, especially after an intense scene, it’s critical.
” He ran his fingertips down my cheek. “But it should be part of sex, too. I mean, what’s the point of getting that intimate with someone, and then shoving them to arm’s length right after you come? ”
I hadn’t thought about that, but maybe he had a point.
Some of my hookups over the last few years flickered through my mind, along with the cold, empty “that’s it?
” I’d feel every time. I’d thought the sex wasn’t scratching the itch.
It was intense and incredible in the moment (well, sometimes; I’d definitely been with some duds).
Afterward, though, I’d be staring at the ceiling and wondering how something so hot in the moment could be so disappointing after the fact.
Devon’s comments made those encounters snap into focus in a way I’d never looked at them before.
It wasn’t that the sex was lacking—it was how the guy might head out to his Uber before the dust had even settled.
The passion and orgasms had been there (almost) every time, but they didn’t stack up to much when the other side of the bed was cool and empty.
“Jack?” He touched my face again. “You still here?”
“Yeah. I’m…” I sighed and met his eyes. “Starting to see why some of my hookups weren’t doing it for me.”
He furrowed his brow. “How so? Because they weren’t dominating you, or…?”
“Well, that. But also, there was none of this.” I rested my hand on his waist. “I never really cared if a hookup stayed over, and I never expected… you know, cuddling or affection.” I swallowed, watching my palm drift up and down his side. “Maybe I needed that more than I thought.”
“Maybe. Sex doesn’t always have to mean love, but it shouldn’t leave you feeling more alone than before you got into bed.”
His words brought a sudden lump to my throat, and I was startled by the sting in my eyes.
“Come here,” he whispered, and gathered me in his arms. I didn’t fall apart, but I did let myself be reeled in, and I sighed as I settled into his warmth. Ironic, I thought, that no man had ever made me feel safer than the one who’d delighted in causing me so much pain.
Because he wasn’t in this to hurt me in ways I didn’t want to be hurt.
That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? That he happily indulged my masochism and his own sadism, but all well within my limits. Intense, overwhelming pain wrapped in care and consideration I’d never received from men who didn’t leave marks.
“This is amazing,” I murmured against his shoulder, my voice thick but steady. “All of it.”
Stroking my hair, he sounded pained as he whispered, “This part shouldn’t be a novelty.”
I shrugged because I didn’t know what to say.
Devon sighed. “For the record,” he said, his voice as soft as his touch, “aftercare is crucial after a scene like that. Like, non-negotiable.” He kissed my forehead. “Any Dom touches you like I did and then doesn’t take care of you afterward—he has no business calling himself a Dom.”
Confusion swept over me. I understood what he was saying, but… Devon would clearly never neglect me like that. Who else would be dominating me but him? Who would touch me like he did besides him?
Except…
Right. Right, I remembered why Devon and I were here in the first place. What this was, and most importantly, what it wasn’t. We had this week and only this week. The whole point was for me to figure out what it was I needed from him so I could find it in someone else.
But lying here now in Devon’s strong, protective arms, my body aching and exhausted from his delicious torment, I couldn’t imagine kneeling for anyone else. I couldn’t see myself letting anyone but him inflict this much pain and pleasure on me while I begged for more.
I couldn’t fathom even thinking about giving someone the control that I eagerly surrendered to Devon.
Sanjay’s gentle but unwelcome voice echoed inside my head:
“I’m getting the impression you’re looking for more than just pain and submission. I think you’re looking for it from him.”
I closed my eyes and held Devon closer.
What if Sanjay was right? Because… Because I probably just needed to stop mentally arguing with him. More and more, I was pretty fucking sure he was right, and I had no idea what to do with that.
Yes. Yes, I was looking for all of that and more with Devon.
There was no point in pretending I wasn’t.
That energy was far better off focused on figuring out what to do with that truth.
I was Devon’s coach. Being with me would damage his career in ways I couldn’t allow.
And really, what did a twenty-five-year-old up-and-coming hockey star need with a forty-three year-old whose body had already been through the sport’s wringer?
Most pro players, whether gay or straight, married models. Hell, I’d been married to a model.
I was most definitely not a model myself, and Devon could do far better. He could find someone closer to his age and his league, and who wouldn’t jeopardize his career.
I had to get it through my head that all we had was this week. I’d savor every second and every sensation, and then I would go back to Abbotsford, get back on the apps, and move on.
Because after this week, no matter how much I wanted him—no matter how much I needed him—I couldn’t have Devon.