6. SUNDAY — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO #2
The sudden absence of the vibration must have been as jarring as the toy itself.
Silas slumped sideways, his forehead coming to rest against the cool glass of the passenger window.
His chest swelled as he took in greedy, desperate lungfuls of air, his thick thighs still visibly trembling in his sweatpants.
The intense overstimulation, and the aching stillness when it stopped left his body in a state of absolute shock.
I smirked, tossed my phone into the cup holder and kept my eyes on the dark road.
We rode the rest of the way to the resort in silence, broken only by the ragged sound of the World Heavyweight Champion trying to remember how to breathe.
When I finally pulled into the dimly lit, private parking garage of the resort, I threw the car in park, killed the engine, and popped the trunk before stepping out into the humid night air.
I walked around to the back and grabbed both of our bags, throwing one over each shoulder.
As I walked around to the passenger side, Silas finally opened his door.
When he planted his feet on the concrete and tried to stand up, the second he put weight on his legs, his knees completely buckled.
A quiet whine slipped past his lips as he grabbed the frame of the door to catch himself.
It seemed his legs were jelly after an hour of brutal wrestling, combined with having his prostate thoroughly tenderized by thick silicone.
I couldn’t help the dark, highly amused chuckle that rumbled out of my chest. “Need me to carry you, too, Champ?” I teased, leaning against the side of the truck.
Silas shot me a venomous glare, his cheeks burning a bright, beautiful red. He carefully righted himself, wincing at every movement, thanks to my not so little gift.
“Fuck off, Kincaid. Just grab the damn bags.” With a grunt he pushed off the SUV, starting his awkward, and very stiff, walk.
I raised an eyebrow, falling into step beside him as we headed for the lobby doors. “Oh? You want to catch an attitude while you’re wearing my lace thong?”
Silas scoffed, trying his hardest to find his usual sassy footing despite walking like he’d just ridden a horse for three days straight.
“I’m just saying, your ‘boyfriend duties’ clearly include hauling the luggage while I recover.
I just spent the last hour and twenty minutes carrying your ass in that match. So, it’s the least you could do.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Silas took two more steps before realizing I wasn’t beside him. He paused just outside the automatic sliding doors of the lobby, turning back to look at me with a smug, challenging smirk.
“Carrying my ass, huh?” I repeated, my voice devoid of humor.
Silas’s smirk instantly vanished. He realized a second too late that he’d poked the wrong bear.I didn’t say another word. I just reached into my pocket, unlocked my phone by muscle memory, and blindly dragged the slider right back up to one hundred percent.
The buzz roared back to life with a vengeance as his eyes blew wide.
He violently slapped his hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the raw, desperate scream that tore from his throat.
His knees instantly gave out again, causing him to stumble blindly through the automatic doors just as the elevator pinged its arrival in the empty lobby.
He practically fell into the elevator car, his 220-pound frame colliding with the back mirror, before sliding halfway down.
White-knuckled fists gripped his thighs as he squeezed his legs tightly together.
The near-constant vibration had him bucking his hips against the air and the rest of his body coiled as tight as a spring.
After checking in and obtaining the room keys, I strolled into the elevator at a leisurely pace. The duffel bags still slung casually over my shoulders. Pressing the button for our floor, the doors slid shut, sealing us in the small, quiet space.
“Cal—” Silas whimpered through his teeth, his head falling back against the mirror. A thick drop of sweat rolled down his temple. “Fuck… please… it’s too high…”
“I don’t know, baby,” I purred, stepping directly into his space.
The bags dropped to the floor, and I planted my hands on the wall right beside his head, caging him in.
I leaned in close, allowing him to feel the heat radiating from my skin.
“For a guy who apparently carried the whole match, you seem to be having a really hard time standing on your own two feet right now.”
“You’re a—” Silas gasped, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as the toy battered against sensitive nerves. “You’re a fucking sadist.”
“And you’re leaking through your sweatpants for me in a public elevator,” I whispered as my lips brushed the shell of his ear. “You look so damn pretty like this, Si. At my mercy. Reduced to a quivering mess before we even get to the bed.”
The elevator dinged. Floor Six. “Stand up,” I commanded softly.
Silas let out a ragged sob, gripping my bicep like a lifeline to haul himself back to his feet. Each breath scraped its way to his lungs, and his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
As the doors slid open, I dragged the slider down to twenty percent. Silas let out a breathless, shuddering sigh of relief and leaned heavily against my side as I picked up the bags.
On the walk down the long hallway to our suite, I inflicted pure, psychological torture.
Every five steps, I changed the setting.
When I bumped it to eighty percent, Silas whimpered, his stride completely breaking as he ground his thighs together.
Then I dropped it to ten and he gasped, trying to chase more friction.
My favorite was when I switched it to a pulsing pattern.
Silas let out a filthy groan, his hand flying out, gripping the wall to keep from collapsing right there in the hallway.
“Cal, I swear to God,” he whined, his voice thick and completely wrecked with arousal.
Every inch of visible skin was entirely flushed, his breathing shallow and frantic.
The thin lace of the thong was undoubtedly soaked through with his own slick pre-cum, his ass filled and stretched, The desperate sound of his voice sent a wave of lust straight through my veins.
“I’m going to—fuck! I’m going to combust. Unlock the door. Please.”
I pulled the key card out of my pocket, relishing the sight of my beautifully destructive powerhouse of a partner quite literally begging me for mercy.
“Alright, Champ.” A nearly depraved smile spread across my lips as I pressed the plastic card to the reader, and the lock clicked green. “Let’s see how much you can take.”
The door clicked shut, the deadbolt sliding into place with a definitive thud. The second the lock engaged, the exhausted, victorious, smiling-for-the-public guy vanished, reduced to a stumbling, huffing, eyes entirely dilated as he looked at me in the dim light, mess.
“Show me.”
There was no hesitation, he turned around and rested his hands flat against the hotel wall. I stepped up close behind him, my hands gripping the thick waistband of his sweats, and pushed them slowly down his muscular thighs, exposing his bare ass. My blood pressure spiked with a dark, feral thrill.
I stared at him, completely captivated, my cock pressing hard against my zipper.
The delicate, pale-blue lace starkly contrasted against his masculine frame.
It highlighted the thick, corded muscles of his thighs and the tight, delectably perfect curve of his ass.
It made his warm, summer-tanned skin glow, and I needed him to understand exactly what it did to me.
“You wore it,” I murmured, my voice thick with awe.
I stepped flush against his back, my fingers snapping the elastic strap lightly against his hip.
Silas shivered violently against the wall.
“I love this on you. It makes your muscles look so fucking good. You look like a gorgeous, filthy slut, baby.”
“For you.” His breathy voice trembled as his ass pressed against my clothed erection. “I didn't realize how much you liked this.”
Stepping back again, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, swiping open the camera. “Look over your shoulder.”
Silas turned his head, his eyes dark and glassy. I snapped the picture, the flash illuminating his flushed skin, the delicate blue thong, and the black plug stretching his hole.
“Good boy,” I praised in a wicked whisper.
I slipped the phone back in my pocket, raised my hand, and brought it down violently against his bare ass.The sharp crack of my rough palm against his flesh echoed like a gunshot. Silas gasped, his hips bucking forward against the wall, an angry red handprint blooming instantly on his skin.
“Turn around.”
He spun, his mouth agape and chest rising and falling frantically.
I grabbed his sharp jaw, tilted his head back, and gathered a mouthful of saliva before spitting directly onto his tongue.
He swallowed with a choked, desperate sound, taking what I gave him like it was life-saving oxygen.
He was entirely eager to be completely dismantled.
“Get on the bed,” I growled as I unbuckled my belt. “I promised you a punishment.”
I gripped the fleece of his hoodie and the cotton of his shirt together, hauling both layers up and over his head in one sharp, impatient motion before tossing them to the carpet.
Shoving him away from the drywall, I guided his massive frame backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed frame.
Silas scrambled onto the mattress, kicking the gray sweatpants and the thong off entirely.
I quickly stripped off my shirt, undid my belt, and tugged my jeans down, fully intending to rip that plug out of his ass and bury myself deep inside him.
But as I moved to step between his spread thighs, Silas reached out, his large hand wrapping gently around my thick wrist.
I paused, my brow furrowing. “What?”