30. Graham
30
GRAHAM
T he last time I was in New York, it was for three full weeks. Washington DC is now overflowing with cherry blossoms, and I’ve got toys. Silas was the one who started buying me things, and I couldn’t help returning the favor. With all the time apart and Avery’s pregnancy becoming more obvious, he wants me to keep him front of mind—as if I wouldn’t. He’s the first thing I think of every day when I wake and the vision I fall asleep to. He’s who I dream about. He’s invaded me.
My phone is mounted to the tile shower wall using a contraption Silas gave me just before I got on the train. Staring at the screen, I jerk myself to the image of his hand slowly stroking his own cock on the leather couch in my Chelsea apartment.
He’s been taking advantage of it more often lately, which I’m glad of.
“Feels so fucking good,” I tell him as water cascades down my back.
“Nice to be out of the cage, puppy?” he asks in his gray, slightly dominant tone.
“Mmhmm…” My murmur of assent comes out shaky as my balls pulse with the need to come .
The cock cage was his first gift—one he’s been threatening me with for months. For my good, Catholic puppy and his slutty cock. I keep that note in my wallet. Sometimes during long floor sessions I’ll pull it out and read it, testing the limits of the cage I’ve been wearing dutifully since Silas gave it to me.
While it’s impossible to get an erection inside it, the restraint is the exact kind of torture my dirty conscience craves. It has a confusing effect on me. On a good day, it makes it somewhat easier to focus on work. On other days, I’m constantly aware of it, and the slight pull of it on my balls when my dick tries anything untoward, has me desperate. Almost constantly horny.
If I wore it all the time, I think I’d get used to it—enter a true chastity mindset. But since I unlock at the end of the day with Silas watching, and I don’t sleep with it on, wearing it is more of an erotic experience than anything else.
Today was a rough one. Silas didn’t pick up the phone on my lunch break, and I was so fucking turned on, I locked the door to my office, lay down on my cot and stuck my fingers in my ass to get off. Since I wasn’t hard, I didn’t ejaculate, but my orgasm lasted forever as I whined and groaned into my pillow, sweating and pumping my fingers in and out of myself. I texted him about it afterward, confessing everything, and he told me to never do it again without recording myself so he could see.
“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” Silas asks.
I nod, unable to speak as my orgasm threatens. It takes me longer to get there these days with only my hand, but when I do—Jesus. I could impregnate a harem with a single load.
“You sure?” he taunts me. “It might surprise you.”
“Mm… Sure,” I pant.
“Being inside you. This cock. Your hole. It’s got me so fucking hard, puppy.”
“You— me ?” I’m incoherent.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he rumbles. “You don’t think I’d be into it. But the thing is, I know how much you need it now. You need to bend over for me, don’t you?”
Flushed with something that feels a lot like shame, I nod, grunting and letting go of my dick for a moment to hold myself up against the wall. I’m too close.
“I need you to keep your fingers and anything else out of your ass until we’re together again. The next thing inside you is gonna be me. Understand?”
“Fuck, Silas…don’t make me promise that. I’m not gonna see you for another week.”
“Christ, you’re a slut.” His whisper sounds awed.
But it’s true. I am. I can’t help it. I don’t know what the fuck this man has done to me, but he’s not the same person I knew last winter either. We’re changing. Together. Becoming something new that belongs only to us.
“You’d do it?” I ask, eyes on the phone, which is now displaying his darkened, chiseled face. All smooth planes and shadow. He’s still touching himself, the hooded look in his eyes and the slight movement of his shoulder proves it. He’s so hot. I miss him too much. My dick gives a throb, balls tightening and drawing close to my cock. “Oh, God,” I groan, my head dropping.
“Say you need it.”
“I need it,” I blurt. All my muscles clench to keep from coming.
“Then your ass is mine,” he says.
I can’t stand it anymore. I grip my dick, and one stroke has cum spraying the tile. I throw back my head, letting the water hit my face as I convulse with the powerful release. My asshole contracts like there’s something inside it. It takes every ounce of strength I’ve got left to remain standing.
“I’m gonna come,” I distantly hear Silas say, his words breathy.
“Show me,” I beg him.
The camera turns while I squeeze my cock firmly, milking my orgasm for all it’s worth .
“Fucking coming so hard for you, puppy. Look…”
His ejaculate shoots out, the image blurring as some of it hits the camera lens.
“Fuck…” he groans. “Fuck that feels so goddamn good…Gonna feel so much better inside you.”
His ability to talk while he’s coming is a product of his third job, I’m certain. A mark of his high dollar sexual skills. And I won’t lie—it’s an extreme turn on—the discipline it has to take, the prowess.
“God, yes… yes …” he goes on as the camera shakes in his grip, although I can barely see anything anymore. The need to stuff my ass with my fingers is so strong, I almost do it. But he can still see me just fine, and if I do it, I’m afraid he won’t fuck me like I need him to the next time I see him, which is still a week away.
The only thing that could shatter this perfect bliss is the incoming call lighting up the top of my screen. Avery.
Goddamnit.
After a brief internal battle which is decided by telling myself I’ll call her right back, I swipe the notification away with a wet finger. “I have to go,” I tell him. “You got cum on the lens.”
“Oh, shit.” He laughs. After a few dark moments, I see his face again, flushed, glowing and sated. “Told you it was a good one.”
“You have the plug in?” I gave him a plug that thumps instead of vibrates.
“Of course. Jealous?”
“Of the plug or the fact that you’re allowed to stuff your ass while I’m gone?”
“I think you like celibacy. Makes you feel morally superior.”
I shake my head with a short laugh. “Shut up.”
He kisses the screen. “I’ll let you go. I’ve gotta get to work, too.”
“Which work?”
“Doorman work,” he says.
Good. I don’t need to be thinking about him having sex with someone tonight. Not after that . Being with a sex worker requires a certain relationship skill set that I’d consider advanced for a newbie like me. The jealousy is intense, but it lacks resentment. I knew who he was from the moment I met him.
And I know he needs the money. Hell, sometimes I’m jealous of how much he makes doing it. I could use cashflow like that, too.
“Call me in the morning before you go to work,” he tells me.
“Call you like this?”
“Whatever you’re in the mood for,” he says.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
Jesus. Did I just blurt that out? Now? After masturbating in the fucking shower when he’s hundreds of miles away? On the damn phone?
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“No. I’m not sure I heard you right.”
“Yeah, you probably didn’t. We should revisit this when I’m back in town.”
“I don’t think so, Senator. What did you say again?”
I sigh heavily and look directly into the lens. “I said I love you, Silas.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He smiles softly. “Should I believe it?”
I cut off the flow of water and remove my phone from the mount. All I see is his face now, and all he can see is mine. “Please. Yes. Believe it.”
He presses his lips together and narrows his gaze, like he’s trying to translate another language. “What took you so long?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like it’s new.”
“No?”
“Why so shy about it, then, puppy?”
I groan dramatically. “Do we have to analyze this? It was almost romantic for a second. ”
“It’s very romantic,” he agrees as I step out of the shower and grab a towel to dry off. “I just have questions.”
“Can you save them? I need to call Avery back.”
“I’ll text you. Maybe you’ll be nicer in writing.”
“I’m not trying to be?—”
“I love you, too, Graham. Good night.”
He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else. I groan again, louder, frustrated with both of us. The reason I haven’t said it before is because he always beats me to it, and I don’t want to say it like a call and response. So maybe this was the best way to do it. I wanted to tell him the night I told him Avery was pregnant, but the timing felt off.
After we never left the couch, the sex we had was slow, sensual, full of kisses and whispers. We made love, and he burrowed so deep into my heart, I know I’ll never get him out. I felt every moment of it like a revolution transforming me. No secrets or lies between us, nothing but our naked bodies—our raw hearts beating powerfully together as he rode me and licked me and begged for more. We lasted close to an hour. It was epic. Beautiful. I said it a million ways, except out loud.
I dwell on the memory of that night as I pull on clean boxer briefs, sweats, and a t-shirt.
Before I have a chance to call her, my phone rings again. “Hey,” I tell her. “I was just about to call you back.”
“Graham…I think something’s wrong.”
Avery’s voice is shaky. She barely sounds like herself. I’m immediately nauseated. “Babe, what is it?”
“I’m like…leaking? I think?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t think I’m peeing on myself.”
I shut my eyes and try not to snap. She’s not making sense, and I desperately need her to. “Avery. What’s happening?”
She bursts into tears. “I think my water broke.”
“Oh, Jesus. ”
Still in the bathroom, I sink to my knees, my legs finally giving out, and also—this is how we pray. She’s crying, holding nothing back, so I don’t need to ask if she’s sure, but I still do.
She manages a tremulous yes.
“I’m calling my mom. She’ll take you to the hospital. I’m on my way.”
“I’m scared,” she says.
“Are you in pain?”
“No. I don’t know. I’m like—numb.”
“Wait for my mom, okay? She’ll know what to do.” Because I sure the fuck don’t.
Avery’s four months pregnant. Not even twenty weeks along yet. There’s no way this is good. But how bad it is, I have no idea. Maybe not catastrophic. Maybe this happens all the time?
With shaking hands, I get off the phone with her and call my mother. Once she understands the situation, I check the train schedule, and then I check for flights, trying to decide which one will get me to Manhattan faster.
The train? I think. Fuck… fuck …
“Hello?”
“Avery thinks her water broke. I need to come home, but I don’t know whether to take a train or a plane.”
“Do you need me to go check on her?” Silas asks. He must be at the building. I forgot.
I’m desperate. I must be. “ Please .” Panic makes the word sound harsh and thin at the same time.
“Take the train,” he says. “You won’t have to deal with security. You’ll be here faster.”
“My mom’s on the way. To take her to the—” I can’t even fucking say it.
“Graham, baby. Take a deep breath for me.”
He’s never called me baby before. Puppy. Senator. Slut. Never baby. I must truly sound like I’m breaking.
“Baby,” he says again. “Breathe. ”
I suck in a breath and realize how empty my lungs were.
“The elevator’s here. If I lose you, keep breathing, and keep moving. It’s gonna be okay.”
Silas’s words are the only reason I manage to get back on my feet.