Epilogue
SIMON
With the last bit of laughter dying behind the door to Oren and Thorne’s home, it left Liam and me standing outside in the brisk air. “Well, that was an interesting house party. Probably the first one I’ve been to where everyone fucking cried at least once, and not out of pleasure.”
Liam lolled his head to the side, his eyes rolling. “Tears were shed, yes, but I’m glad Matt and Thorne worked it out.”
“Me too. The somber look Matt had walking in was enough to crack my heart.” I tugged at my chest, mimicking the scowl he’d walked in with. “Who would’ve said no to that?”
He laughed, a sound I cherished far more than anything else. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“Yeah, I am, but that’s what made you fall in love with me. My sass, my ass, and well, all of this.” I gestured to myself, a grin forming on my face as I walked toward the truck that was one accident away from being totaled.
A 1974 Bronco, dressed in a baby blue paint with cream-colored seats. It was by no means a ‘beater,’ and if anything, it turned me the fuck on that he drove it. Especially considering it was a stick shift, and regardless of the fact, he could still use his hands freely.
Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he tugged the door open for me. “Your ass?” he questioned playfully, slapping it as I went to get in. “That didn’t sound very top of you.”
Plopping into the seat, I rested my hands behind my head, flicking my gaze to him as he shut the door. “It still deserves appreciation, especially for how much you were glancing at it tonight. If you want to talk about your ass, I’d rather see it in the air ready for me.”
He glanced up through the open window, raising his brows in challenge. “I don’t know. It sounded a little like you were ready to bottom tonight.”
Before I could reply, he chuckled, moving around the truck. The latch clicked open, and he climbed in, shoving the key into the ignition. Who the fuck still used a key for a vehicle?
“I don’t bottom, and you know that.” Clicking my seatbelt in place, I crossed my arms over my chest. “If you keep acting like a fucking brat, we aren’t going to make it home, Liam. I won’t tolerate such slander, especially from my perfect, sweet, innocent boyfriend.”
The engine purred to life, and he placed his hand on the stick, glancing at me before his gaze trailed downward. Without missing a beat, he ran his fingers down it with undeniable intention. “Then maybe you should stop saying shit a bottom would say, Simon.”
I licked my bottom lip, taking my time at the way his nostrils flared despite his calm disposition. “Hm, I don’t have to prove anything. You’re the one stroking the fucking stick like it’s my cock, so who’s the needy whore?”
His eyes traveled, sweeping across my frame before he shifted into first, peeling his attention from me to focus on the road. “Whatever. We’ll see once we get home, I suppose.”
“Really? That’s the best you can fucking do? You stroked that stick better than the shit you’re doing to my cock,” I mused, Liam’s face red from the slaps I’d already inflicted, tears slipping down his face in a beautiful array I wanted to draw.
He looked up at me from where he knelt, his brows hooding his darkened gaze. “And what are you going to have me do to your cock, Simon?”
“You’re going to swallow it like the good fucking bitch you are.”
Stubborn and settled on testing my patience, he batted his lashes. “What if I just… don’t?”
My cock twitched in front of us at his defiance, something I enjoyed breaking.
Someone who listened was boring, and Liam was anything but that.
It’s why we meshed, why I’d fallen for him so quickly, because despite his stoic appearance, there was an unyielding bitch of a temperament beneath. One I thoroughly loved to tease.
My fingers curled in his hair, yanking his head back with a force I reserved for him alone. No one had pushed me to these stakes, these limits where the lines blurred—lines I crossed to mix the pain and pleasure he so desperately desired.
Tugging harder, his cry was melodic as I refused to make it comfortable for him. “You’re such a whimpering whore, you know that?”
He hissed, his jaw clenching as he glared up at me. “And you’re a pathetic dom.”
“Oh?” My smile was feral as I leaned closer to him. “And what can you do with your hands rendered useless?” Flicking my gaze over his shoulders, the belt I’d secured was still holding strong, his hands resting above the curve of his ass.
“Who said I need my hands?” he mused, and before I knew it, saliva met my face.
Wiping over the spit, I collected it on the pads of my two fingers. “Think you’re fucking funny?”
He craned his head to the side, a submissive grin coating his lips. “I’d like to believe I’m inherently hilarious. Even if, based by the look on your face—”
I didn’t let him finish as the cocky bastard had opened his mouth, the perfect place for his own fucking saliva to return to as I shoved my fingers to the back of his throat without reprieve.
His gag was reflexive, but I refused to lessen as my fingers curled at the back of his tongue. “Aw, are you fucking choking?”
He whimpered, his knees sliding back against the entry way tile in an attempt to get away from me.
“And where the fuck do you think you’re going? You said you were a good whore, and you can’t even take two of my fingers? What are you going to do with my cock inside of your mouth?”
I pressed firmly against his tongue, his saliva pooling further until it was as messy as him.
With a slow drag, I removed my fingers, loving the way his spit coated them as I brought them to my lips.
Making sure he was watching, I pushed them as far as I could go back into my mouth before closing, sucking all of his essence from them.
It was a display of power, but also a reminder of who fucking owned him.
“Well, are you going to be my good boy, or do I need to fucking break you further?” I needed him to say it, otherwise I wouldn’t let him touch me. I owned him, but he was such a fucking needy bitch at times. One who loved to push the boundaries of what a submissive cunt was.
With flushed cheeks and parted lips, he stared at me as if there was a brief moment of consideration—but then his smug grin returned. “Seems you know how to deep throat pretty well for a supposed dom.”
“I’m versatile, so if a whore tries to get a reaction out of me, they won’t. My reactions are reserved for those who listen, and darling, you’re terrible.”
Lifting my good leg, I pressed my foot onto his head before shoving him down, his pretty little ass lifting in the air. I didn’t ease up on the pressure as his cheek dug into the tiled flooring. “Anything else you’d like to say? I love a good foot rest.”
A swallowed moan left him, a sound so minuscule that one would’ve easily missed it if they didn’t know how much he enjoyed being broken. “Good thing we have an ottoman in the living room, isn’t it?”
I pressed harder, his back arching at the angle I forced him to submit to. “Good thing I’m a patient man. I don’t mind standing like this for however long it takes for you to break, though I do hope it’ll be soon. You’re leaking onto the floor, and you know how I feel about messes in the house.”
His body shivered at my words, goosebumps trailing across his skin, a key sign that he was sinking further into submission even if he continued to pretend he wasn’t. “You’re just going to stand there with a hard prick? That’s fucking ridiculous, even for y-you.”
There it was. The waver in his words.
“You think I’m going to stand here hard waiting for you to make up your goddamn mind?
” I chuckled, pushing him into the floor once more before lifting my foot.
“I’ll fucking make myself cum while you decide to be a good boy or not.
But you? You won’t touch, suck, or fucking cum until you decide to relinquish that arrogance. ”
Silence filled the space, only until his audible swallow replaced it. “B-But…”
Stroking my cock for impact, I bit my lip at the sheer willpower leaving his eyes. “Well, sunshine, what are you going to do? Let me stroke myself, or are you going to listen?”
“I-I’m…” He struggled to remove his chest from the floor and sink back onto his knees. After two attempts, he pulled himself upright, his pouty gaze meeting me. “I-I’ll be good. I can listen…”
“Oh, you’ll be a good slut now?” I tightened my grip, running my hand from base to tip to add to the anguish brewing on his cute face.
His thighs tensed, hips rocking forward slightly as his tongue darted across his bottom lip. Dipping his head once, he nodded, a whine escaping him. “Y-Yes… I’ll be good now. I’ll be your good slut. Please.”
Lifting my hand, I closed the distance between us and undid the belt around his wrists. It clattered to the floor as I kicked it away. “Since you wanted to be so fucking difficult, prep yourself.”
Watching intently, I caught the tremble of his bottom lip, a key sign of humiliation at my request. “B-But you usually… You…”
“Did I stutter? You wanted to prolong your attitude, so spit on your fingers and fuck your ass.”
Where I’d normally catch a glint of either obedience or opposition, something else lingered in his irises. Something that hinted at a shyness or an uncertainty, a moment of vulnerability that, in a submissive state, could become detrimental to his headspace if not handled attentively.
Dropping to a knee, my finger curled under his chin, my thumb stroking his cheek gently. “Was that too much?” The hard exterior was gone in a flash, because nothing was as important as his heart.
He blinked once, twice, his eyes slowly meeting mine.
There was a depth of submission there that I’d continually basked in, confirmation that he was already deep in the space of servitude.
“I-I… You just… Normally…” Swallowing, he shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You usually… d-do that… to me… And I…”