Chapter 23
KYLEN
Over the last week, I’ve grown to really enjoy Arek’s hands on me.
Everywhere on me. I might encourage him to touch me there almost every time we’re sitting quietly and not having sex.
In my mind, if I can get comfortable with it outside of sex, then that’s a step forward to his touch while we’re having sex. Right?
I didn’t understand when he tried to explain that my trust in him was a comfort to him until I realized last night that I sought his touch there, too, because it also comforted me.
His hand on my dick is slowly erasing the bad memories.
They’re not the first thing I think of anymore when his hand goes there.
In fact, when those memories begin to poke, I want Arek to touch me because his touch is forcing the others away.
It’s possessive, gentle, respectful, and a need.
Our sex is explosive, and I can’t get enough of this man breeding me.
But I’m also beginning to live for the moments outside of sex when his hands are on me.
Sliding over my skin and learning all the contours of my body.
Cupping my junk in a way that says mine, but never in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
Arek checks in so fucking often. Half the time it’s verbal, but the other half it’s not. I still hear the questions, though. I feel them in his touch, in the way he presses his mouth to my neck.
We promised the Lennon twins that we’d attend their last trial class—sensation play.
We missed the earlier one at the beginning of the week because Arek was struggling with his anger.
When someone says they can’t be around people, it’s not supportive to encourage them to do it anyway.
They’re telling you where their mental state is.
So I didn’t force the issue. I called Otis and explained that something came up and that I wanted to be in his next class. He understood, and here we are, standing outside the door to Crave, staring up at the sign.
“When did the name change?” Arek asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I thought it was Secrets. Last time I talked to them, it was Secrets. Seems an abrupt announcement of the new name.”
Arek hums. He tugs me to the door with my hand in his. Otto and Evan are standing just inside the door. Evan looks at Arek and then at me with amusement.
Unsure what he finds funny, I look at Arek too. He’s gorgeous. Obviously. But then I see his shirt. ‘Hole trainer.’
“Oh my god,” I mutter, pointedly not meeting Evan’s eyes.
“It’s not wrong,” Arek says, and I feel him shrug. “You need far less prep now than you did two months ago.”
“Arek,” I hiss, though Otto and Evan are laughing. I’m going to burn off at least three layers of skin with the heat flooding my face right now.
“You’re proudly announcing that you’re my good boy,” he points out, looking smugly at the hoodie I’m wearing of his. “I thought we were okay sharing things now.”
I shove him away from the laughing men and toward the classroom. “I’m never wearing this again,” I mutter.
Arek catches my waist and hauls me off my feet.
I yelp and then laugh as I wrap around him.
His smile is beautiful. Mischievous. Sexy.
“You’re definitely wearing that hoodie again,” he counters.
“I love when you wear my clothes. Especially when they’re loudly proclaiming that you’re fucking mine, little kit. ”
My flush is accompanied by a wide smile that I can’t make go away. So he doesn’t think I’m no longer mortified by what he shared with Evan and Otto, I huff. It does little to discourage his grin because my smile remains glued to my face.
We’re one of the last to arrive, but the spot we usually take in the BDSM classes is available. As if they knew we would be here.
Today’s instructor is Master Thad. We sit on the chair together as he talks to us about sensation play.
What it’s about and who usually takes pleasure in it.
He goes on to explain the tools we’ll be using today, which are things we can find around the house, which opens this kind of play up to everyone.
We don’t need specific tools for sensation play.
“Any questions so far?” Master Thad asks.
Everyone in the room looks at each other.
“Sounds good. You’re always welcome to ask questions as we go.
For now, choose which of you is going to feel and which of you is going to use the tools on your partner.
Get into position and get comfortable. Take this time to talk about limits.
Look over the tools we have laid out and decide if there are some you’re uncomfortable with.
Talk about whether you’d like to be blindfolded. ”
I look at Arek, and he presses his mouth to mine. “You sensation me,” he says.
My laughter is buried in his mouth at his strange sentence. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. You’re getting more comfortable letting me touch you, but I also want you to be comfortable touching me.”
“I touch you all the time,” I say, even as I flush at my words.
“Do you?” he asks as he pushes us to our feet. Keeping one of my hands in his, he raises his shirt and places his hand on his stomach. My breath catches. I try to melt into the floor as he slides my hand up his chest to his nipple, and I pull my hand away.
“Fine,” I say, burning hot. “I get your point. This isn’t the place that I’m going to find comfort in touching you, though.”
Arek kisses me softly, and I sigh into his gentle touch.
“I know. I’m not expecting you to grope me in a room full of people.
However, you tend to forget to be self-conscious when we’re exploring kink, and since this one is all about touch, I want you to be the one touching me. If you’re comfortable with that.”
I glance around, but Arek guides my eyes back to him. “Look at me and no one else. No one in this room matters.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Okay.”
His smile is small, but he’s happy with my agreement. Arek pulls his shirt over his head and sits in the chair. It reminds me a lot of a dentist’s chair. It’s padded, and it reclines. The arms move instead of being stationary. It’s wide, but not so wide that it takes up a lot of room.
Arek sits and adjusts it so he’s maybe thirty degrees from lying flat, though his legs are inclined a little too. “Bring the table closer. You’re going to sit on my lap, so make sure you’re able to reach everything.”
I don’t blush. I mean, I had him tied up and practically dry humped him in front of the entire room. This should be nothing, right?
Cautiously and determinedly not looking at anyone at all, I climb onto Arek’s lap, adjusting myself so I’m sitting more firmly on his hips and have access to his chest. I’m guessing that’s why he took his shirt off.
Once I’m relatively comfortable, I bring the table close and make sure I can reach everything.
“So… Master Thad said we should cover some things. Where do you want me to… put things?”
His wicked smile makes my cheeks hot. Fuckhead.
“Waist up, since that’s what you have access to right now.”
I nod. “Anything on the table you don’t want?”
Arek glances at the things we have—feathers, ice, a fork, a leaf, something fuzzy, and a handful of other random things. “Nope.”
“Do you want to be blindfolded?” I ask, but he’s already nodding his head.
“Yes. You’re far more comfortable exploring when you’re not watched.”
I sigh because he reads me like a fucking book. The mask is a sleep mask. Taking it out of the plastic, with Arek’s eyes locked on mine, I adjust the elastic over his head but don’t bring it over his eyes yet. Not until Master Thad instructs us to begin.
His hands lie relaxed on my thighs. If there weren’t so many people around, I’d move so his hand could be between my legs. Maybe it’s more than comfort and trust. It feels like safety when his hands are on me. Assuring that no one else’s are. Shielding me from another’s touch.
“Everyone ready to begin?” Master Thad asks.
The room collectively agrees, and I slide Arek’s mask over his face. His breathing remains even. Calm. I rest my hand over his chest to find his heart has a calm, steady rhythm too. For a moment, I study his face, the hard lines of his jaw with its dark shadow. His full lips. The curve of his nose.
My eyes trail down his long neck and the tendons there.
The veins. His pronounced collarbones. His pectorals, the left with a strange tattoo.
It’s a mask with black oval eyes and mouth holes, but no nose.
Inside the featureless shape, it’s filled with stab wounds, many of which are dripping with blood.
I trace my finger around the shape, wondering if all the wounds are reflective of something deeper. Does it mirror how he feels about something? Does he hurt, and so those wounds don’t close?
“Choose your first instrument,” Master Thad says, his voice low, quiet, soothing.
I glance at the table and chew my lip while Master Thad continues to give us quiet instructions.
“Begin somewhere innocent, like the palm of their hand or the crook of their elbow. Your touch shouldn’t be heavy.
The item on their skin shouldn’t place any weight there.
They should only feel a whisper of what you’re touching them with, not the shape of the item.
They should feel the texture, the temperature, but not necessarily identify what you have. ”
I choose a cotton ball and hover it just over Arek’s collarbone, moving it slowly along the hard line until I get to the dip between them.
Instead of following the opposite side back up, I go down his sternum.
It takes a weirdly steady hand not to fully touch his skin.
I’m not exactly shaking, but this is a practice in precision.
His tattoo keeps catching my eye, so I bring the cotton ball closer and then brush Arek’s nipple. He inhales, and my gaze snaps up to his face.
“Okay?” I whisper.
“Yes, little kit.”
I smile and turn my attention back to what I’m doing.
His nipple is pebbled. Hard. Little bumps on his skin rise around it, and I lick my lips.
I recall sucking on his nipple in the dark at Hush Anonymous.
Remembering makes my cock twitch. The way I touched him that afternoon.
How hot it was. How he fucked me to within an inch of my life when we got back to his room after, because I spent the entire four hours just touching him.
“Change items,” Master Thad instructs. “Don’t pick up where you left off and don’t follow the same path you just took.”
I pick up the fork and use the dull, pointy ends along the lines of his stomach and watch, mesmerized, as his muscles dance under my touch. His cock jumps under me, and I almost groan as I continue lightly moving the fork around.
A comment catches my attention, and I stop trailing the fork.
Instead, I angle it so only one little point reaches his skin and poke him gently.
Over and over, moving slowly around his pec.
Closing in on his nipple. Just before I get to his nipple, we’re instructed to change tools and start somewhere else.
Arek growls in response. His hips rock up into me gently, and I feel how incredibly hard he is.
My heart races as I pick up the ice cube, and while I mean to press it along his neck, it drips. The cold drop leaves gooseflesh all over the spot where it touches, so I make it drip again, moving my hand just around his nipple, but the opposite one this time. Close. Close. But never touching.
Over and over, I use different tools to move around his body and always stop just before I touch either of his nipples. Arek’s hands are digging into my thighs, and his body shakes with arousal by the time the class ends. He has me in his arms, dragging me from the building when we’re released.
I’m breathless, throbbing with need, as he hauls me across campus to our frat house. He has no patience for my shorter legs and picks me up as if I’m nothing more than a pillow to run up the stairs to his bedroom.
As soon as we’re inside with the door shut, his mouth is on mine. Hungry. Greedy. Commanding. This might be the first time that I rip at his clothes as roughly as he does mine until we’re stumbling around and fall to the bed naked.
His body hums with need. Amped from the teasing we’d spent the last hour playing with. His mouth trails along my collarbone, biting and nipping and licking like a fiend. He drops to my chest and takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks harshly.
I gasp, my body spasming at the intense feeling. His tongue flicks and rubs; his teeth bite just shy of too hard. I imagine him saying this is what you do to nipples!
His mouth moves down to my stomach as he licks and kisses, bites. Everything inside me burns with need as he devours me. Tasting my skin. Rubbing my muscles. Growling into my body as he licks over me.
Then his chin hits the head of my dick, and words echo in my head.
You’ll like it. You know you will. You always like it, Kylen.
Don’t you? You’ll trade this so you don’t fail, won’t you?
So your sister isn’t expelled. You want to protect your sister, don’t you, Kylen?
So you’re going to let me taste your sweet little dick and spill your spunk into my mouth so you can both remain in good standing.
My surroundings fade, and I’m no longer an adult. I’m no longer in my boyfriend’s dorm room. The light pools in from the large windows. A breeze rustles the papers in the inbox, tests turned in after the last calls before everyone was released to recess.
Everyone except me. Because my grades aren’t good. Because my sister is chaotic and bad, and my teacher wants to expel her.
But I can save my grades and keep my sister in class. I just need to do this every day, and it’ll be fine. We’ll get through the year, and it’ll be fine.
“NO!” I scream and shove away. “No, please! Don’t. I don’t want you to. No, don’t touch me!”
“Kylen?”
The memory fades, but I’m already jumping from the bed to escape. I grab pants and a shirt and wrench the door open to run away from the bad touch that I couldn’t stop. Tears blur my vision, but I keep running anyway.