Chapter 10 #2
“You don’t get rattled by stuff?” he asks incredulously. “So the existence of photos and videos that can destroy my life is no big deal and not worth getting worked up over?”
“You’re really good at putting words in my mouth.” I give him a little smile. “Too bad you’re not putting other things in there.”
Shane’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in a little O of surprise.
“What?” I ask innocently. “You’ve already got me trapped and helpless against the wall. What are you going to do with me now that you have me?”
He lets out a little snort-laugh. “Trapped and helpless? Like you couldn’t escape if you wanted to.”
“I could,” I confirm. “But I don’t want to. Not yet, at least.”
“Not yet?” he asks warily.
Instead of answering, I grip him by the hips and swing us around so he’s against the wall and I’m pinning him against it.
“What the fuck?” he splutters. “I thought you said not yet.”
“I lied.” Pressing my thigh between his legs, I grind it against his hard dick. “Doesn’t feel like you’re all that mad about it, just saying.”
His expression goes from shocked to pissed, and he pushes against me, trying to break my hold.
I keep my weight pressed against him and let him fight, but all he manages to do is wiggle and frot against me until we’re both rock hard.
“Fuck,” he moans, his eyes sliding shut as he stops trying to break free.
“That’s right.” I lean closer until my lips are next to his ear. “Let me hear how much you love feeling me against you.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” I give his earlobe a little nip.
He jumps and lets out a little whimper that sends a pulse of need through me.
“You hate that you love this.” Another bite. “And you hate that you don’t want me to stop.”
“Fuck you,” he groans when I gently trace my tongue over the shell of his ear.
“Soon,” I tell him.
He’s glaring at me when I pull back so I can look at his face, but the effect is ruined by his flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. I don’t bother hiding my smile, which only makes him glare harder.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” I press my dick against his. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this.”
His moan is low and deep, and I feel it rumble out from his chest more than I hear it.
“Tell me you haven’t thought about how much you want me on my knees for you,” I taunt. “How much you want to feel my mouth around your cock.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who’s thought about it,” he says, his voice broken and strained. “Like you’re the one who wants it.”
“I never said I didn’t.” I bump my hips forward and drag my dick against his. “There’s only one of us in this room who still pretends like we don’t both want this.”
“You’re doing an awful lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to want to blow me so bad,” he points out, some of the clarity coming back to his eyes.
I let go of him. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make me.”
His eyes widen, and I don’t miss the flash of heat in them.
Slowly, I sink to my knees in front of him.
“Oh god,” he gasps, his eyes wide as he stares down at me. “Are you really going to…”
“Yup.” Closing my hands around his thick thighs, I give the hard muscles a squeeze. “But you have to ask nicely.”
“What?”
“You have to ask nicely,” I repeat. “That’s how this works. If you want my mouth, then you have to earn it.”
“Earn it?”
“Yup.” Sliding my hands up his thighs, I skim my thumbs over the seam where his legs meet his hips, barely missing his cock as it strains against the fabric of his jeans. “So what do you say? Are you going to ask nicely?”
His lips part like he’s going to do exactly that, but instead they tip up in a little grin. “And what if I don’t want to ask nicely?”
“Then you have two choices.” I wrap my hands around his waist. “You can tell me to get the fuck out, or you can beg me.”
“Beg you,” he laughs. “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”
“I think you will.”
“You really think I’ll beg for it when I’m not even willing to ask nicely?”
“Yup.”
Using my grip on him, I yank him off the wall and tip him to the side. He lets out a squeal of surprise and tries to shove my hands away as he fights to regain his footing.
All that does is throw him even more off balance, and instead of having to wrestle him down, I end up guiding him so I can slow his fall enough that he doesn’t crash to the hard floor.
It’s no fun when he can’t fight back. And I have plans for him that will work better if he doesn’t have bruised ribs or a concussion.
He lands on the floor with a loud oof, and I throw one leg over him so I’m straddling his hips. He tries to shove me off him, but I just grab his wrists and pin them to the floor.
“We keep ending up like this,” I tell him as I press my ass down against his cock. “It’s almost like you enjoy having me on top of you.”
“Or maybe you enjoy having me under you,” he counters.
“I’ve never denied that I do.” Leaning down, I press my chest against his. “Now, are you going to admit that you like it as much as I do? Or are you going to keep pretending like your dick isn’t as hard as mine?”
He glares up at me, but he’s not fighting or telling me to get off him.
He wants this; he just can’t admit he does.
I let go of one of his wrists and reach between our bodies to cup his cock.
He moans softly and presses up into my touch.
“This doesn’t lie,” I tell him and give him a hard squeeze. “You want this.”
“Fuck you,” he grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind the words.
“And you want me.” Letting go of his other wrist, I sit back so my ass is on his thighs.
“I don’t,” he says almost petulantly.
“Liar.” Casually, like I’m undoing a ribbon on a present, I pop the button on his jeans, then slowly slide the zipper down.
“Not lying,” he grates out, but instead of pushing me off him, he balls his fists up and squeezes them so tight his knuckles go white.
“Sure you’re not.” Pulling the V of his fly open, I wiggle down his legs and lean down to press my lips against the soft material of his exposed underwear.
He lets out a muted grunt, like he’s trying really hard not to make a sound, and bucks up against my mouth. I can feel him under his briefs, hard and hot and begging for my mouth, and I push my tongue against his covered shaft.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his entire body going stiff in what I assume is an attempt to not press against me again.
Chuckling, I drag my tongue over his shaft, tracing it up until I feel the hard ridge of his cockhead. Playfully, I flick the tip of my tongue against his crown, then drop a sucking kiss over his head.
His breathing picks up, and I lift my eyes, my mouth hovering over his cock, and look at his face.
He’s staring at me with a mix of wonder and desire that sets my already heated blood on fire and makes my cock pulse as my balls draw up tight.
I don’t understand the chokehold Shane has on me, or why his every reaction is like an aphrodisiac when I usually have to force myself to stay in the moment when I’m with anyone else, but I’m not mad about it as I lick around his cockhead in teasing little strokes designed to drive him crazy.
“Fuck,” he groans. “That’s…”
“Remember what I said,” I say as I press soft kisses against his dick. “If you want more, you have to either ask nicely.” I pause so I can run my tongue over his length. “Or you can beg for it.”
“Not happening,” he says, but his breathy tone takes all the heat out of his words.
“We’ll see.” I nuzzle my nose against him and breathe in, letting the scent of clean skin, soap, and the musky, slightly spicy undertone that’s uniquely him fill my senses. “You smell good.” I rub my cheek against his dick. “Bet you taste even better.”
He lets out a low groan, and I don’t miss the way his body relaxes as all the tension seems to bleed out of him.
“You weren’t wrong,” I tell him, still rubbing my cheek against his shaft like a needy kitten.
The rasp of my stubble on the soft material of his underwear feels nice, and based on how Shane keeps rocking his hips to help me keep my rhythm, I’m not the only one enjoying things.
“When you said I’ve thought about this.”
“You have?”
“Yup.” I close my mouth over his shaft and give it a sucking kiss. “And I know you have too.”
“Maybe,” he says on a soft sigh.
“You know what to do if you want more.”
Shane lifts his hands and pushes me away from his cock. I watch as he shoves his jeans and underwear down. He’s so hard his dick almost slaps him in the stomach as it swings free from the confines of his pants, and his dazed eyes meet mine.
“And what do you want me to do with that?” I ask as he grips himself at the base and gives his shaft a squeeze.
“Suck it.”
“That didn’t sound like you asking nicely.” Gently, I shove his hand away from his dick and replace it with mine. “Remember what I said? If you want my mouth, you have to earn it.”
His eyes narrow in a glare. “Give me your mouth.”
“Better.” I slowly stroke my hand up his hard length. “But not quite. Now try again.”
I can see his internal battle in his eyes and expression, and I just sit there quietly, his dick in my hand like I’m just hanging onto it for safekeeping, as I wait to see what he’ll do.
“Please,” he finally whispers.
Shooting him a little grin, I lean down and draw his cockhead into my mouth.
His gasp is loud and unrestrained, and I have to hold his hips down when he tries to buck up into my mouth.
Taking my time, I slowly sink down on him and stroke my tongue against the underside of his shaft. When I’ve got about half of him in my mouth, I work my way back up, going agonizingly slow just because I can.
“Fuck, Jace,” he pants. “Please.”
As a reward for remembering my terms, I pull off him and suck one of his balls into my mouth so I can gently tongue it.
He grunts and tries to push up against me, but my grip on his hips stops him.
I spend the next few minutes alternating between toying with his balls and sucking his dick, making sure to not let him get used to the sensations before switching again.