8. Silas
Silas
Smoothing the silk over Jack’s hair, I tie a slipknot and press a small kiss to the back of his head causing a tremor to run through his body.
Yeah, this is what my boy needs tonight. He’s been wound so tight, carrying too much weight, and it’s time for him to let go.
I keep my touch light, but steady as I move around to face him.
My fingers brush his skin, and I see the flinch, hear his sharp intake of breath, “sshh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I murmur, keeping my voice low and even. I stay right there with him, speaking softly until I feel his body settle under my fingers.
I lift his shirt, and the material drifting slowly up over his toned body as I pull it over his head, and let it fall aside.
His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, and he pulls it between his teeth, that small tell he doesn’t even know he has.
The gesture tightens something low in my stomach, a quiet reminder of how much he feels without saying a word.
My hands have no filters when it comes to him, as they map every inch of him like they own the terrain, because they do.
Jack tries to hide behind his walls, but under my palms, his toned, fighter’s body tells the real story.
He’s sculpted to absolute perfection, all hard lines and lethal grace, his abs carved with dips and valleys I know by heart.
My fingers trace the sharp, exquisite sweep of his V-line, following the path straight down to where he’s heavy, thick, and aching for me. It’s pure heaven.
The lamp behind us catches the deep gold of his olive skin in the shadows.
I watch every muscle in his back and chest jump under my touch, reacting even when he tries to stay still.
His breath stutters against my mouth, and as we stand here,after just getting my boy back, I know that my sweet, fierce dove is the only empire I’ll ever bow to.
And that’s when I see it. The exact second he drops into that space where the world can’t touch him or reach him.
No one except me.
I slow everything down on purpose. I want him feeling every single second of it, every drag of my skin over his.
My fingertip trails over his left nipple, and his breath hitches—a sharp, ragged sound that vibrates right against my chest. Goosebumps break out across his olive skin, shivering over his ribs as I trace the bone down, dragging my thumb slow across his chest before dipping in to give the right one the exact same careful, deliberate worship.
He tries to hold still, tries to keep that iron control he’s so stubborn about, but I can feel him trembling beneath me. Every twitch of his muscles tells me how much it’s costing him just to take the air back into his lungs.
His whole body responds, shaking now. Leaning in, my lips brush his, and when I pull back, he chases the contact.
I smile, “Stay still,” I whisper, my tone a gentle warning.
The effect those two words have on him is immediate. His head snaps back, and I watch as his body physically softens. His shoulders lose their tension, fingers unclenching at his side, hanging loosely at his sides, his mouth entirely slack as the last of his resistance melts away.
My fingertips trail along the top of his waistband, and a soft sound breaks from his throat. I smile at the sound, a raw, instinctive whine that tells me exactly where his heads at.
“Soon, dove.”
I slip my hand just inside the fabric, hovering right over him before I press my palm flat against his warm, trembling stomach. I don’t grab his cock, I just let my fingertip barely graze the heavy head of his cock, feeling that slick, thick wetness soak straight into my skin.
I pull my hand back, lifting that wet finger to my mouth while I keep my eyes locked on his. My lips part, and I take it in, sucking lightly.
I come apart right then, his pre-cum hot in my mouth. I hum deep in my chest, savoring every bit of him. “Mmm,” I groan, my voice rough, my throat tight as his taste floods me until my whole mouth is alive with him, “You taste so fucking good, boy.”
I pull my wet finger from my mouth and drag the damp trail back down his skin, blowing softly over it.
His skin pebbles with goosebumps, and I feel my own cock twitch in response as he fights to stay upright, leaning his weight into me.
The metal of the cuffs clinks as he tries to reach for me, but the restraint holds him firm.
“Silas.”
The whispered name hits me like a live wire, sending a violent spark straight through my blood. My cock turns rigid as steel, straining hard against the denim of my jeans.
With shaking fingers, I open my fly, letting out a rough moan as I finally break free.
“Let’s see you, baby,” I murmur, sliding the heavy zipper down, the sound grating loud and sharp in the quiet room.
I drop to my knees, taking his pants and boxers down with him.
I lift one foot to slide the heavy denim off, then the other, tossing it aside.
Pressing a soft kiss to each calf, I trail my lips up his thighs, nipping and tasting my way higher.
Jack lets out a low, ragged moan as I brush a kiss against the apex of his left thigh before shifting to the right.
I move slow to his hard, leaking cock, licking the bead of moisture at the tip right before I blow a cool, gentle breath against his heat.
He lets out a sharp cry, trying to reach out blindly. His arms move frantically, the cuffs singing loud as he pulls against the iron in pure, helpless instinct. I drop a final, grounding kiss to his other thigh, then stand up, taking a small step back just to look at him.
His olive skin glistens with sweat, goosebumps scattered across him like a constellation. The soft bedside lamps catch every line of him, every tremor, every heavy breath.
“You are so beautiful, dove. So beautiful.”
He whines at the words, and I watch his cock twitch as he stands there, trembling for me, held up by silk and my steel.
His cock is thick and heavy, framed by a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair, the tip leaking thick with pre-cum. A slow drop slides down the length before falling to the floor.
My eyes trace every inch of him, and it’s like he can physically feel the weight of my gaze, his muscles twitching wherever my eyes land.
“Such a good boy,” I say, my voice low, almost a hum.
Every time I see Jack like this, I’m in awe. He’s the epitome of a powerful, formidable man. But right now, trembling and whimpering while held in my cuffs and blinded by my silk, he is absolutely, undeniably breathtaking.
I’m silent as I take a step toward him. I know his hearing is razor-sharp right now; I can see it in the way his head tracks every shift of my weight. I smile to myself. My little dove is perfect for me. I just need him to believe it.
I move in close, until our chests brush, his breath hitching at the contact. I press a light, slow kiss to his lips, and speak right against them.
“Kneel.”
* * *
Jack sinks to the ground immediately, his movements slow and obedient, and I take a step back.
I don’t speak as I leave the room. Leave him to himself, to the silence, to the space where he waits for me.
I wash my hands, and after drying them off, I pull out another strip of black silk.
I slip off my shoes and strip out of my clothes, tossing them into the hamper.
I take a moment to tidy the counter, to breathe, to centre myself before I return to my boy.
He deserves my full attention, my full presence. And my full care.
And I will give it to him.
I walk in a few minutes later, and Jack is exactly where I left him.
Kneeling. Waiting.
His breathing is rough and fast now, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven pulls of air. His muscles clench and unclench as I walk toward him. His whole body reacts the second he hears my steps, his head flicking to me immediately, telling me he was listening for every sound I made.
Needing me.
Perfect.
“Good boy,” I say, stepping right in front of him. I take his bottom lip gently between my fingers, giving it a light pull.
“Open.”
His mouth opens slowly, and he sticks his tongue out without me needing to say another word. He sits there, perfectly still, waiting for his next instruction.
I take my cock in my hand, giving it a long, heavy stroke. Leaning forward, I tap the tip right against his tongue. A raw groan tears out of him the instant my flavor hits his tongue. His body strains toward me, and I pull back quickly just as his lips start to close.
“Not yet, boy.”
I lift my hand to his hair, running my fingertips through it, my nails scratching lightly against his scalp. He hums, a small, helpless smile touching his lips.
“Like that, baby?”
He hums in response, turning his head into my palm and pushing in, asking without words for more.
So, I give my boy exactly what he wants. Slow strokes, steady pressure, grounding him with every pass of my fingers through his hair.
Then I pull my hand away, guiding my cock back to his lips.
“Open up, baby.”
His lips instantly part, tongue sliding out, and I huff a low, amused laugh.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” I murmur, pressing forward as I push deeper.
My cock tunnels into his throat until he gives a soft, choked gag. I hold it right there for a heartbeat before pulling back, the wet tip resting against his bottom lip before I drive back down, fucking his throat with a steady, measured pace.
His muffled moans grow louder with every stroke. Thick spit mixed with pre-cum slides from the corners of his mouth, and I watch his fingers twitch in the cuffs, itching to be freed. I keep my eyes on him, waiting for his safe sign—two fingers held up—but my boy holds strong, taking it.
I drive deep down his throat again, my weight settling until my balls brush against his chin as I hold him there, motionless.
I watch his hands, scanning for the signal, but his body starts to sink.
I give a slight, teasing thrust of my hips, and that’s when I see it. Two fingers, shaky but clear, held up.
Instantly, I pull out of his throat.