Chapter Twenty-Three
So, here’s the thing. I don’t think I truly hate wearing lace and lingerie, I think I just hate how Kai made me feel while wearing it. I hated feeling that I was a mere dress-up doll for him. I hated feeling like just a sex toy.
Not to mention, I don’t feel like I look sexy in it. Kai can completely rock it. I think Evan could even rock it, if he wasn’t so uncomfortable being so squished into it. It’s supposed to be snug, yeah, but this was just way too small.
I swear I double-checked my order too, so as not to run into this issue. Frickity chickadee, my mess-up probably did nothing for his internal battle that still wages in his mind all the time. Over the past week, I’ve seen him both make progress in accepting himself, and regress some as well.
That can be expected. This is a huge thing to come to grips with. I had a hard enough time when I came out in my youth. He’s well into his thirties, and feels like he’s just discovering himself for the first time.
His strength and perseverance amazes me every day, though.
That’s why I’m currently in here, trying to be strong for him, and putting on the outfit. I’ve never really felt comfortable in my body. ‘Comparison is the thief of joy’ they say, and I believe it to be true. Growing up, and even now, I always feel like I’m comparing myself to guys hotter than me.
I’m not nearly as muscular and honed as Evan or Kai. I’ve constantly battled a little pudge. Back in school, I was active enough to offset the effects of my sweet-tooth. I’m definitely not skinny enough to be a sexy twink, though I naturally have the mostly-hairless body thing down. I’m just blah…
While I’d love to have a wardrobe full of cute stuff, I feel the most comfortable in sweats and casual-wear that hides my body—not in lace and mesh, which shows off everything I’m most insecure about.
“Wow,” Evan gushes as soon as I step out in the outfit.
I instinctively try to hide behind my arms by hugging them around my body. He steps forward and peels my arms away. He bites his lip as his eyes take inventory of me.
I can’t help but worry. What’s he thinking? We just established he isn’t sexually interested in women, and here I am all feminized. The fragile fabric hugging—accentuating, even—my every curve, where I should have flat plains.
His rough hands fall to my hips, before they coast up my body to my ill-defined pecs. There, he squeezes them appreciatively, before letting his hands wander down my back—lightly skimming the fabric—until he gets to the generous globes of my butt.
Wouldn’t even call them glutes, since they’re roughly two percent muscle and ninety-eight percent pure, unfiltered ba-donka-donk.
“I love it,” Evan whispers, leaning in to nip little kisses down my neck, all while giving my behind a possessive squeeze. I swear, if he could, he’d always have his hands there.
Suddenly, he spins me so that we’re facing my full-length mirror, me directly in front of him. His hands wander around my hips again, until he’s holding me steady. He leans in, resting his chin on my bare shoulder, the bristles on his cheek rubbing against my bare one.
“You don’t see what I see, do you?” he murmurs in my ear.
I lightly shake my head. I don’t even notice my hand drifting up to pinch a bit of my protruding gut to give it a little jiggle, until his own hand swats it away.
“Uh-uh,” he admonishes me. “Your tummy is perfect.”
“Oh, please,” I scoff.
His reflection scowls at me. “What is it you’re constantly telling me whenever I’m feeling like shit for thinking the way I do about myself?”
“Don’t talk about one of my favorite people like that…”
He nods. “That’s right.” He presses a kiss into the skin that’s flaming on my neck. “This outfit looks fucking amazing on you, Brooks. It’s almost a shame it took so long to put it on, because all I want to do now is tear it back off.”
I watch as a flush starts to creep up from my neck into my face. He tilts my chin back towards him, kissing me on the lips. He swipes the pad of his thumb across the apple of one of my cheeks.
“Black and blue lace on your body; perfect pink on your cheeks; and I bet I’d find a bright red—almost purple—cock down there, needing to get off,” he murmurs on my lips.
I mean, the man’s not wrong. Despite my insecurities, I can’t deny that I’m hard enough to cut glass right now.
“It doesn’t make me look too feminine?” I worry. “I mean, you’re not attracted to women.”
“Women typically don’t have hard-ons like you do right now, Reckless,” he points out.
His hand coasts down to my neck, and he twists my head back to face the mirror. His hand fits like a collar around my neck, a perfect amount of pressure holding me in place but not cutting off my airway, and I suck in a breath. He takes my earlobe between his lips and gives it a good suck.
“Here’s what I want you to do, Brooks,” he rasps in my ear. “I want you to watch, just watch, as I show you how much I appreciate this body.”
I gulp, and he gives me a lascivious chuckle. “I grew up on a lobster boat, baby. I’m pretty handy with ropes and knots. Trust me, if I need to tie you up, just to keep your hands to yourself while I get you to make a mess all over this pretty lace, I can.”
Umm, holy crap on a cracker—that idea has me figuratively all tied up in knots…
“Evan—” I whimper, my cock twitching with need.
“I won’t give you what you need until you give me something I need first, though,” he offers. “I need you to look into that mirror, look yourself in the eyes, and say these words: ‘I am sexy as hell.’”
I practically whine.
“Say it,” he growls, putting a little more pressure in his grip around my neck. “Tell me, Brooks. Tell yourself that you look gorgeous just as you are.”
“I’m g-gorgeous,” I croak.
He tightens his grip a bit. “Mean it.”
I sigh, my cock practically has a pulse of its own, at this point. I give myself an appraising look, letting myself go boneless in his arms. Looking at the hungry, possessive way he’s holding me. Really feeling the way he wants me, as my backside makes contact with his own steely length.
He’s hard right now because of me. He wants me badly. Moreover, he wants me to feel worthy, just as I am. He wants me to submit to him in a way that I’ve never been asked to submit to anyone before… ever.
Mind. Body. Soul.
That knowledge—the feeling that my body is something he craves, even with its flaws—cracks open something in me. The tender way he requested my submissiveness. The care he’s taking with me. Shoot, it’s something I’ve never had before, ever.
“I’m gorgeous,” I repeat, this time with more conviction.
His reflection beams at me, as his grip around my neck loosens. “Say, ‘I’m perfect just as I am.’”
I repeat him, unwavering in my delivery.
“Good boy,” he praises, cupping my dick over the fabric and skimming my length appreciatively. “I think someone deserves a little reward, don’t you?”
He doesn’t even wait for my response—which is a definitive ‘yes’, by the way—before his hand dips below the waistline of the underwear and grabs my dick, leaving me slightly relieved he didn’t tear them off me like he threatened before.
This outfit wasn’t cheap, and now I’ve got a better appreciation for it.
“Definitely not a woman,” Evan growls. “This cock is mine.”
Heck, I might not even return the lingerie if I get this ravenous reaction from him.
“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees. I want you facing this, Brooks,” he orders me, as he moves the mirror and leans it so it’s within view of the end of the mattress.
I do as he asks, and feeling emboldened by the words of praise, I even give my hips a little shimmy as I get into position. Keeping my legs spread wide, I arch my back, dipping my pelvis low and feel my leaking cock start to soak through the mesh. Anticipation has my body literally thrumming.
I’m feeling especially glad that I decided to dig out my bulb and do a little light cleaning and grooming down there earlier, in preparation for the package I knew was coming today.
Didn’t know I was going to have my backside completely on display like this, but, like Evan, I was a scout once too—well, an honorary tag-along member of Ryann’s all-girl’s troop—and, just like their motto, it never hurts to be prepared.
Case in point: I wanted his first experience with my hole to be one he wouldn’t cringe at, and I’m starting to get all tingly thinking we might actually be going all the way tonight.
Which, I’m torn about it, honestly. I mean, I’d love for Evan to claim me tonight, even though, well, I’m not sure how I feel about having sex without making love anymore.
And while I definitely feel like I’m in love with Evan, I don’t think he’s quite there for me yet.
But this is about going after what I want too, right?
So, why shouldn’t I let him inside me? Just because he hasn’t said the words, doesn’t mean I don’t see something more between us than I’ve ever had before…
“So obedient,” Evan notes, slipping onto the bed behind me. He crawls up and folds his body over mine, until he’s on top of me, and we’re looking at our reflections once again.
“Goddamn, baby,” he huffs, “we look so fucking good together.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nod anyway. I peek over my shoulder at him and give him a grin, he rewards me by brushing my lips with his, teasing mine apart with the tip of his tongue before barreling in. I feel his erection throb with need on my lower back, and the drip of pre-cum that lands on me.
He slowly works his way back down my body, using his big, rough hands to skim over me deliciously. When he’s finally kneeling back on his heels, he slowly slips down my underwear, leaving them pooled around my knees.
“Remember what I said,” he whispers, “keep your eyes on that mirror. You watch this whole thing, because I won’t be able to, and I want someone to be able to enjoy the show.”