Chapter 11 #2
I let out a soft huff of laughter and step over Damon’s thigh, crouching down next to him.
“Whether or not I implied it means jack shit,” I tell him.
“I could have written a fucking promissory note and it still wouldn’t matter.
Because as far as you’re concerned I’m the final authority on all things orgasm-related.
I decide when, where, how, and even if you get to come.
And if I need it that authority includes the power to back-track, change course, skip forward and any other kind of misdirection that can help me fuck with your head and intensify your sexual torment.
” Leaning in closer, I tell him, “Now, I think you’ve slummed it on this dirty floor for long enough.
I’m not getting you off with my foot and I’m not getting down there with you, so if you want any chance of an orgasm tonight get the fuck up. ”
It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly Damon’s able to spring to his feet with the right motivation. I don’t regret indulging him, though; it was obviously something he was into and watching him writhe around like that was seriously hot.
I run my gaze over Damon’s body, scrunching my nose at his disheveled appearance. “Those clothes need to go,” I tell him. “All of them.”
His brow quirks slightly and his cheeks flush pink but that’s the only reaction he gives before acceding to my request. And if the sure, confident way he’s undressing is any indication I have an inkling that initial reaction was less about the prospect of stripping and more about a certain suggestion I made before we got started.
I can’t seem to stop my eyes from ravenously feasting once Damon’s completely naked. So I don’t bother trying; instead I lean back casually against the bar, grinding my palm over the front of my jeans as I let my gaze roam freely over his breathtaking body.
Technically speaking, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked, but a dirty video isn’t even remotely similar to having him right here in front of me—every inch of golden skin and lean muscle on display for my viewing pleasure.
Not just my pleasure; Damon likes being on display and objectified just as much as I enjoy objectifying him. He likes knowing how insanely attracted I am to him. I bet he even likes knowing some of the things I fantasize about doing to him.
“Are you going to admit it?” I ask, the corner of my mouth curving up wryly.
Damon’s brow furrows slightly. “Admit what?”
“That you like me looking at you.” Before he can respond I hold a hand up and correct myself. “No—me salivating over you.”
“Well…it’s not like I can stop you from looking,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, you could. We talked about this an hour ago—you can stop me from doing anything you don’t like.” I arch an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop?”
Damon shakes his head. “No…”
I smirk at him. “Because you like it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand over his face. “Fuck. Yeah, I like it. I have no fucking clue why.”
“I know why,” I tease. Pushing off the back bar, I move toward Damon; once I’m close enough I gently grip his sides and corral him backward to the side of the main bar. “There are many reasons. Starting with your desperate need for attention…”
“I don’t—”
“You’re as big a whore for attention as you are for cum,” I say with a snort of amusement. “And you’re a massive fucking cumwhore in case you didn’t realize.”
“Fuck, just because—”
“Secondly,” I cut in again, “It’s likely being brazenly objectified triggers a similar arousal response to being debased and demeaned. Up you get,” I add, tapping my palm against the bar a couple times.
It’s the one section of the bar that doesn’t have any draining trays or beer taps or glass racks cutting into the space, and it’s the perfect height for Damon to easily scoot onto. Which he confirms without question or complaint.
“And thirdly…”—I grab Damon’s legs and tuck them up, gently urging him to lie back on the bar—“you fucking love being on display.”
The words have barely left my mouth when I see him spread his legs wider and lift his arms above his head like he’s modeling for a dirty magazine and his only instructions are to “look slutty.”
Jesus Christ. I bite down on my lip to hold in a groan; I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw something this incredibly sexy.
It’s not just his ridiculously gorgeous naked body.
And it’s not that his ridiculously gorgeous naked body is spread out in front of me like an offering.
It’s those things combined with the way he seems to be reveling in the debauchery of it all.
I’d planned to get on my knees and start licking his hole the second I had him settled on the bar, but that’s not all that feasible now that I’ve become completely incapable of tearing my eyes away from him.
After a moment of thought I reach into my back pocket and retrieve my wallet, withdrawing a sachet of lube. I don’t need much—I’m not actually planning to finger him tonight—but I want things to be…comfortable.
Once I’m ready I toss the used sachet aside and lean forward so I’m looming over Damon as my hand slips between his legs.
“I have another nickname for you,” I taunt. “Bunny.”
He frowns in puzzlement. “Because bunnies always want to have sex?”
I let out a snort of amusement. “I do enjoy when things work on multiple levels. But no—because you’re posing like a fucking Playboy centerfold,” I say.
“So my questions are these—did you pose deliberately in an effort to make yourself look as slutty and debauched as humanly possible? Or are you just that much of a dirty slut you didn’t even realize what you were doing? ”
He closes his eyes, shaking his head as his cheeks flame pink. “Fuck. I don’t…”
“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” I say as he trails off. “The result is the same. It’s already impossible to tear my fucking eyes away from this display you’re putting on, and I’m betting it’ll get even worse in a second.”
I punctuate that prediction by nudging my hand forward and running a finger over his taint. And, unsurprisingly, it only takes the barest touch for him to move past the debauched slut phase and once again devolve into a cheap, trashy whore.