Chapter 29 #2
“Look at me, Florian,” he orders.
The demand makes my cock throb. I moan, keeping my face angled away. I must look like such a fool.
“Please don’t make me open my eyes,” I beg.
He kisses each of my eyelids in turn. “You don’t need to. I’ve memorized the exact shade of blue and every little golden fleck.”
That just sends more tears streaming from my eyes.
I have to open my eyes for him, risk the scrutiny, let him see me at my most vulnerable, because I need to see his face right now.
It’s worth it. His eyes are so warm. Adoring.
Who knew he even had adoration in him? He unbuttons my trousers, then stands up and grabs my hips, rearranging my position so that my feet are flat on the ground.
He drops to his knees before me. My heart stops.
Grimes on his knees for me and loving every second, when he only used to look at me with contempt.
“May I?” he says, knowing the answer.
“Fuck, yes,” I whimper.
I’m not going to last long at this rate.
I place my hands on his face, caressing him as his lips surround me and it feels so fucking good.
He looks up at me like this is a dream for him.
There was a time when I never thought we’d get here.
He kept me at a distance for so long. Even when he allowed me to get off using his body, he wouldn’t touch me properly.
Now he’s suckling me like he can’t get enough, the wet sound of his lips filthy in the silence.
Now the barrier between us falls with a glorious, deafening crash.
It’s like being taken into the mouth of a volcano.
The heat from his lips and especially the heat in his eyes.
His tongue flickers, wicked flames. His hand works my shaft, and then he rolls my balls around in his huge palm and teases like I’m all his: all his to toy with.
I close my eyes and give my pleasure over to him, trusting him completely with my body, my soul, this man who hated me.
His touch drives me on and I can’t help rocking my hips and pushing myself hard and deep into his mouth.
He runs his tongue in a circular motion around my slit, lapping my pre-cum.
He slides just below and behind the head of my cock. My head gets light.
“Stand up,” he says. “I want to try something.”
I whimper, sure my weak knees won’t hold me.
But I want to please him, so I struggle to my feet.
His hand creeps across my ass cheeks and then he’s pressing at my hole.
My knees give way completely, like I knew they would.
I collapse and he helps me onto the sofa.
I laugh at myself, at my complete lack of game when I’m with Grimes.
He laughs with me as he inches his finger inside me, twisting and exploring.
His mouth finds my cock again and at the same time two big fingers reach deeper inside me.
He hits my prostate and I scream with joy.
My body unravels, my mind. He’s all around me, inside me, taking over and driving me to scary heights of pleasure.
I’ve never felt anything like this. My balls tighten.
Pressure builds from my groin, ripples through my whole body as a terrifying orgasm rips through me.
I’m seeing stars and crying out as I come in deep his mouth, his fingers deep within me.
“Fuck, that was good, Boss,” I breathe.
He looks up at me, post-swallowing, his mouth slick with my cum and a quizzical look in his eyes.
“Are you still calling me Boss, Florian? I’m not really supposed to order you around anymore. Not since I ripped up the contract.”
His words are slow, deliberate. A question. I can’t take my eyes off his wet lips. I fidget with my bracelets, a little embarrassed even after the intimacy. But this is Grimes. I can tell him what I want.
“I’d like you to, sometimes,” I say. “I mean, it’s quite... quite...”
I sneak a glance at him. He’s looking at me with his head on one side, a little smile playing on his lips. In complete command of the situation.
“Yes?” he prompts.
“Nice,” I whisper.
He caresses my face and then hooks a hand around the back of my head. Starts playing with my hair. I’m going to get addicted to this, the way his lightest touch makes me feel like my whole body is a spool of thread controlled utterly by him.
“So may I serve you now?” I ask.
I glance down hopefully at the bulge in his trousers.
“You may,” he says.
“How?” I whisper, excitement building. I need him to walk me through it, give me orders. I need to please, to serve him.
“Get naked for me,” he says.
He stands and takes off his shirt and trousers, revealing the naked power of his body.
I saw him shirtless lots of times as we worked side by side, but the sheer breadth of his bare shoulders is a surprise every time.
His clavicle glistens with sweat and his thick shaft is erect and ready, proving how much sucking me off turned him on.
I run my gaze down his torso. It’s an austere plane of solid muscle, unyielding as the desert landscape.
Wow, look at me getting all poetical at a moment like this.
His ass has a little heft to it. Surprisingly juicy considering the lack of any spare meat on the rest of him.
The ass calls to me and I dig my fingers into it, yelping as he grabs my wrists and holds them tight.
“I told you to get naked for me, not feel me up,” he says.
“I’m not allowed to touch?”
“Correct.”
Excitement prickles up my spine. I look longingly at his tempting brown skin, his firm-looking nipples that beg to be sucked, but I say, “Yes, Boss.”
I discard my clothes in a heap on the floor while he watches, arms folded.
I wait for my next orders, my cock filling again already.
He rakes his gaze over my naked body. I stand tall and proud for him, and he kisses the scars on my torso one at a time.
Each point of contact sends a quiver of pleasure.
“Those fucking assholes,” he murmurs. Venom mixes with tenderness in his voice. The combination brings me to putty. “If I got my hands on them…”
“I know. Stop torturing yourself about that.” I trace my lips across his scarred tattoo. “And I never meant for this.”
“I know, flower. Stop torturing yourself about that. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Grimes goes to a cabinet at the side of the room and comes back with a bottle of oil. “Come here, flower. I need you now.”
He pulls me close, big hands warm and strong on my lower back.
His tongue slides into my mouth and I taste myself on his lips, surrender with a moan, forgetting words, forgetting guilt, forgetting how to think.
He’s forgotten himself too, forgotten that he told me not to touch.
I don’t plan on reminding him. Our bodies writhe and clash, and I pull him so close, and he tries to pull me even closer.
“Now I’m going to leave my mark on you,” he says. “Is that okay?
I nod, too turned on to speak. He sucks hard on the side of my neck, then dips down to mark my stomach, my side, my hip bone.
Covering me, filling the spaces between my scars with signs of his love.
All the time his breath gets more jagged and his hands rougher, like they're claiming me. He runs his hot tongue over my cheekbone. I freeze, body held in ecstatic tension. It’s animalistic.
He’s licking my face and it should be weird, but instead it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever felt.
His dark eyes blaze, enraged-looking, his passion so fierce it looks like anger.
Like he’s shed that iron self-control for me as well as the hood.
“I won you,” he says, fisting his hands in my hair.
It takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about. His grunts are animalistic, hard to understand. He must mean my contract of servitude that he tore up. We’re going to play that it’s still valid? I can get behind that.
“You won me fair and square,” I breathe. I can’t move an inch in his grip. “I’m all yours.”
He huffs into my neck, sucking and nibbling at me. Being the sole focus of his concentration, I feel like I’m under a blazing spotlight. It feels like being on the stage, my dream I never got to realize.
“Mine,” he grunts, sounding like a bear.
He makes me feel like a tiny, helpless human in the hands of a powerful beast. My subby heart soars. This is perfect. This is what I’ve always wanted but been too afraid to ask for. Even with all my experience I’ve never felt like this. Because I never trusted anyone this much before.
“Yes. Yes. Take me,” I beg. “Please.”
One hand stays in my hair, holding me captive.
The other creeps all the way down my spine, raising goosebumps, and then it gets even better.
His finger starts to tease at my ass crack and his other hand grabs the bottle of oil.
I press back on his hand, begging him to enter.
My hole is hungry, craving for him. His fingers felt good earlier but now I need more.
I need to be filled by that cock that’s swelling to intimidating size.
His prep is as intense as his stare as he stretches me.
His oiled fingers claim my body, going deeper, and he laughs roughly as my movements get more desperate.
My pleasure makes me like a ragdoll in his hands.
He seems to like it when I flail, helpless.
His other hand still holds my hair, which I need because my knees are getting weak now.
“I’m ready. Now. Please,” I breathe.
I burn for a moment as he eases inside, a sharp momentary sting at my hole which gives way to pleasure.
I breathe deep. He pulls at my hair and kisses the back of my neck, his leg thrown over me, moving slow inside me, giving me time to relax for him.
We stay locked together, both holding our breaths.
Our first time since we came clean to each other.
Now there are no secrets, our history laid bare, and we still want each other.
It feels like a new start. He draws his thick shaft all the way out, teasing and torturing every step of the way, loving my imploring whimpers, leaving me quivering with need.
Then he thrusts deep and fills me right up until I gasp.
“More,” I breathe.
He thrusts into me. Again and again, until I forget everything but the feeling of him taking me.
He pauses, adjusting until he hits the spot that makes my body sing with pleasure.
Then keeps on hitting it, driving me feral.
My hands grab at the sofa, desperate, clawing with need.
Sweat pools on my forehead and my hair hangs over my eyes and the noises ripped from my lips are so filthy I would blush except for the fact that I know my boss wants me to let go.
Wants me to feel this completely, to the core of my being.
I must look and sound like a creature who’s abandoned reason.
The wilder I act, the tighter he holds me and the harder he pumps into me, kissing the back of my shoulders with fierce devotion.
I think about me, an aristocrat, being taken hard by an ex-prisoner, following all of his orders and letting him control my every nerve, and I moan deep and low.
“How does it feel?” he says.
“Fucking amazing, Boss.”
“For me, too.”
He’s not lying. He’s hard as iron inside me, pulsating.
Still, he puts me first. Before he lets himself finish, he finishes me off.
It just takes him wrapping his fighter's fist around my throbbing, leaking cock. A spasm of pleasure wracks my whole body as I come hard, prostate throbbing in time. Grimes’ climax follows fast. His hands tense on my body and I feel his wetness inside me, hear a low breathy grunt that marks his orgasm.
As quiet and Grimes-like as I’d expect. The two of us are like a chain reaction.
Our pleasure intertwined, dependent on each other after hating each other so long.
As the pleasure settles and my body lapses into light-headed satisfaction, I wonder if fate has a sense of humor.