Chapter 11
Blake
Those fingers flexed around my neck just tight enough to draw a soft noise past my lips. I heard a soft chuckle that accompanied it, the sound traveling up to my ear where Marlow’s nose brushed briefly against it before pulling back from me.
“I like you making those sounds.” As he spoke, he kept his grip firm while leading me away from the wall. “Let’s see what other ones you’re capable of making.”
This was such a bad idea but at this point, I was too far gone to care. My dick throbbed between my legs, making it too hard to focus on anything else but the subtle stabs of pleasure that rocked through me right when Marlow shoved me backward and tossed me back onto the couch.
My ass hit it first, my body bouncing with the motion before settling down onto the plush cushion and I let my legs fall apart to accommodate my tented shorts.
Marlow’s gaze was glued to that spot, a hungry smile slowly tilting the corners of his mouth upward. “Tell me something, Austin.”
My hands found the sides of the cushion to latch onto as he drew near, preparing myself for whatever was to come next. “What?”
“You ever do anything like this before?”
“Sleep with a guest? No.” Obviously.
What kind of director would I be if I made this a regular thing?
He let out a soft laugh, completely contrasting with the hooded look in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
My mouth fell open. “I’m not a virgin.”
Is that the vibe I gave off?
How fucking mortifying.
I knew I was bad at this whole flirting thing, but I figured he could at least tell I wasn’t an amateur in the bedroom. I was twenty-eight, for god’s sake. That was plenty of years worth of experience to get to know the in’s and out’s of sexual gratification.
He reached down to cup my jaw, forcing my head back until it was pressed against the back of the couch. He sunk his knee down onto the cushion between my legs, resting all of his weight there and dipping us both while he leaned forward. “With men, Blake.”
Thick saliva coated my tongue and throat. “Y-Yeah. Why?”
His brow popped up suddenly. “Really? Before this?”
“Yes.” Okay, that was an even worse assumption that he thought I was straight rather than simply being a virgin. “Marlow, I’m not—I am gay. I run an LBGTQ youth retreat.”
“Didn’t know if that was you being a really good ally or not.”
If I wasn’t currently trying to fight off coming in my shorts from how close he was and how intimate him touching me like this felt, I would’ve reached out and slammed my first right into his shoulder for good measure because what the fuck was that.
He was lucky he was charming.
“You’re stalling.”
He flashed me a cheeky grin. “You’re right.”
Suddenly, my world flipped on itself, tilting sideways with a hand catching me in the ribs and forcing me flat onto my back lying horizontally on the couch. My legs were kicked apart by a rogue knee, giving Marlow enough room to settle between them while looming over me once again.
His face was shadowed by the way the light fixtures in this room were laid out.
His expression going from playful and amused to one that had my toes curling in my shoes.
There was an intensity in his eyes that I’d only ever seen once before the last time I’d been in this cabin and on this very same couch.
He pulled me in without a single word, entrancing me by his presence in a way that was so abnormally foreign, I couldn’t help but seek out more.
I wanted to know how he ticked, how he was able to break through my years of fog when it came to finding anyone even remotely attractive enough to send me into this near frenzy of want.
“You know what’s funny,” he murmured, surprising me. “You’re the first one to ever do this to me.”
His hand snuck under my t-shirt to run along the outline of my abs like he was tracing the details to commit them to memory. My stomach jumped at the contact, contracting involuntarily while I tried not to squirm from the subtle touches.
I was overly sensitive to a fault. Every graze, every brush of those fingertips over my skin were small shots of adrenaline rocketing through my system.
While I wanted to reach down between us and kick my shorts down to my ankles and free my poor erection, the angle Marlow had me twisted in gave little room to move.
“I don’t know how you do it.” He continued to talk, his voice barely above a whisper. “You get me somehow. And that turns me the fuck on.”
I wheezed the second he glided his hand up and pinched one of my nipples. The pain licked through the pleasure perfectly, perking my hips up to grind against whatever was close enough to give me some sort of relief.
Marlow’s hand caught the side of my hip, slamming me back down into the cushion. “Thought we agreed on you letting me take care of this.”
Any more stalling and I was going to come in my shorts. “Hurry up.”
He squeezed my nipple hard enough to hurt. “So demanding.”
A whimpering moan slipped out of me involuntarily then, before I could stop it.
The worst part about being a closet masochist was that usually it freaked people out enough to steer clear of it entirely, hence why locking it down before I let myself get carried away was usually the only way I actually got laid without scaring off the other party.
There were only the few rare occasions when I got someone to sleep with me who actually wanted to get rough, and unfortunately, they never tended to last long relationship-wise. Too many disguised as ‘good men’ when in actuality, they were little more than abusers catfishing as ‘doms’.
Thankfully, I had a pretty good sense to weed them out early.
He paused for a second, his eyes focused intently on my face. “Blake.”
Oh my god.
“Marlow.”
He titled his head curiously, assessing me for a long moment before pulling his hand out from under my shirt.
My stomach flipped instantly. I knew where this was going—he’d tell me that he changed his mind about this whole thing and would quickly pack me up and send me on my way with some lame excuse that he had to get up early in the morning.
I’d had the same song and dance happen one too many times not to know the signs before they slapped me clear across the cheek the way most rejections did.
The worst part was this was actually going to crush me.
My attraction toward Marlow was off the fucking charts and having it stomped out before anything could really begin was tragic.
When he leaned back, I held in a sigh and began to sit up as well.
If I left quickly, I could probably save myself the humiliation of him watching me do the walk of shame back to my cabin. The next five weeks were going to be rough avoiding him but I had plenty of work to keep me from seeking him out again.
Suddenly, he grabbed at my hips again and flipped me over onto my stomach with a dizzying quickness.
I had no time to react, or ever question what the fuck he was doing, before one of his hands threaded through the hair at the base of my skull and held me there while his other grabbed at the back of my shorts and pulled my up from the couch in order to prop me up on my knees.
“Are you into this?” he asked
Into what?
The crack against my ass cheek was my answer to that question. It was hard enough to sting, even through the thick polyester fabric. The loud moan I choked out was laced with a curse, the pain from the hit vibrating my entire body and arching my back enough to perk my ass up high in the air.
Oh my god that was fucking good.
Marlow chuckled. “Oh. He is. Interesting.”
My ass was instantly met with another slap to mirror the first, his hand making contact with my other cheek to make it even on both sides.
I moaned again, clutching the side of the couch while I rocked my hips forward against an imaginary body while my balls drew up painfully tight against the base of my cock.
Shit, if he kept doing that, I wasn’t going to last long at all.
The fingers in my hair shifted slightly, along with the dip in the cushion behind me. Marlow moved back away from me while keeping me pinned, two fingers hooked at the waistband of my shorts in order to yank them down just enough to expose my ass completely.
The cool air forced a shiver down my spine.
“Damn, I wish I had my phone on me.” He grabbed one of my cheeks, kneading his fingers into the muscle. “You’ve got a perfect handprint here.”
“Admiring your work?”
Man, why did I find it so hot he wanted to immortalize this somehow?
I should’ve been running for the damn hills with the threat of him wanting picture evidence this situation was even happening but instead, I was too wrapped up in the audible pride in his voice.
“You wouldn’t mind another, right?” he said right before clapping his hand against my skin once more.
The sound was loud in the quietness of his cabin. I could feel the impression of his hand he left behind, the digits creating a tangible pressure on my skin even as I kept still for him while he moved to do the same thing to the other side.
“Or another...” He chuckled again.
My hips shot forward to buck against thin air, cum shooting out to coat the inside of my shorts where my cock was still tucked inside as my orgasm rolled through me.
Coming so soon into this was unexpected, but not at all surprising considering how deeply I’d been trying to bury my want for this man over the past few days and having it fail fucking spectacularly.
My eyes stung.
Holy fuck.
Being this out of my mind for a man was disconcerting. I was the king at keeping people at arm’s length and never getting too invested, even sexually, with someone I hardly knew for the simple fact of showing all my cards too early into the hand.
How did Marlow unravel me so easily?
Take me from being someone with strict boundaries and walls that safeguarded myself to one that was coming ten minutes into this?
How was he able to read me so fucking easily that he knew just what would get me going?
His fingers dug painfully in my hair, pulling me up from the couch and sitting me back onto my sore ass cheeks. He wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me against his chest, his hand leaving my hair briefly to travel down my body and shove past the waistband of my shorts.
“Fuck,” came my choked out reply the second his hand wrapped around my slicked cock.
“Oh, you did come.” He stroked down from the tip to the base, coating me entirely in my own fluids.
I had half a mind to apologize and try to explain away with a ‘this never happens’ kind of bullshit that would probably do nothing but make me look more guilty. Even if he did believe me, where was the fun in all of this ending so goddamn soon?
My only solace was the fact that I was now currently sitting in his lap and his very obvious arousal was poking at me.
His hand tented my shorts, lazily moving up and down my softening shaft a few more times. “You know, Blake, if I knew you were that sensitive, I would’ve had you suck me off first.”
I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, my legs spreading further. It felt so fucking good to have his hands on me like this. “Okay, then why don’t you?”
“I should. Give that mouth something to do other than backtalk me all the time.”
“You start half of this shit, might I remind you.”
“Hm, I can’t seem to recall. My memory is rather fuzzy.” His teeth found my earlobe. “Maybe you should remind me.”
Such a shameless bastard.
He drew his hand out and wiped it on my covered thigh, bucking his hips up against my ass to get me off of his lap and stand while he pulled himself up onto his feet.
He made quick work of my zip-up and t-shirt, gesturing with a head nod to toe off my shoes and leave them by the side of the couch before he grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the bedroom.
I had no time to look around at what he’d done with the place before I was tossed onto the bed like a ragdoll—a rather impressive thing to do considering I wasn’t at all light like one. As I bounced on the mattress, he stripped off his own t-shirt and shoes and dropped his sweats to the floor.