20. Marcus #2
But it’s exactly what I need.
I slam Preston’s front against the door, and it nearly rattles off its hinges as I stand behind him, and whisper in his ear, “Hands on the door, ass in the air.”
His lips tremble, and I expect him to fight it since it’s been a while, but he slowly slides his palms up and bends forward until his ass is up.
A gruff noise rips out of my throat. “You can be such a good boy sometimes.”
I help him remove his coat and then throw it on a bench somewhere behind me.
Preston goes back to the same position, watching me with that expression of fascinated expectation.
The one he wears when he knows our bodies are on the verge of colliding in something dangerously sensual.
As if, like me, he’s also been having withdrawals.
As if, like me, he hasn’t been able to look at other people, let alone fuck them.
No matter how often I touch him, the thrill never dulls. If anything, the temptation only doubles, and I feel like I’m floating too close to the sun. It might burn, but it’ll feel good as well.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice huskier, his eyes wider.
“What do you think?” I reach to his front and unbutton his jeans, then pull them and his boxer briefs down until they’re pooling at his ankles.
My cock throbs at the view of his ass, so smooth and round and, tragically, not covered with my marks.
The prospect of adding them sends a jolt of morbid anticipation down my spine.
Have I ever been this excited about fucking? No—no, I haven’t.
There’s just something about Preston Armstrong that pulls out the monster in me.
I stroke his ass in a circular motion as I tip close and murmur, my breath brushing his ear, “Mmm. I missed this.”
He squirms.
Slap.
A sharp groan rips out of him. “Fuuuck.”
“You seem to have missed these hands, baby.”
Slap.
He moans deeply, and just like that, he relaxes under my grip, softening for me, letting me do whatever the fuck I please.
Preston is always resistant at first, but then my body speaks to his, and he falls in line.
My voice lowers, dark enough to make him shiver. “This feel good?”
Slap.
Preston’s head drops, banging on the door as he lets out a grunt, his fingers curling against the door.
“I asked if this feels good. Answer me.”
“Yeah…”
“How good?”
“Just…good.”
I stroke his ass, admiring the way his skin reflects my handprints.
“You wear my marks so well, baby, you know that?”
I strike him four consecutive times, and he releases these blabbering noises, his cock standing to attention. “Yes, fuck…please…”
“Your precum is dripping on the floor.” I wrap a hand around his cock, squeezing roughly. “What a fucking mess.”
“Mff…yes, fuck, just…”
“Just?” I slap the side of his ass cheek.
“Unghh…”
“That’s not a word. You need to tell me what you want.”
“J-jerk me off. I want to come.”
My lips curl in appreciation. I love that he doesn’t hesitate to ask for what he wants now. At least he’s not trying to pretend these rendezvous mean nothing.
“Like this?” I slap him as I tug on his cock, and he jerks up, going to his tiptoes.
“Yes, yes, like that. I’m so close…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…I’m coming—fuck, why did you stop?”
I bite the shell of his ear. “I told you, didn’t I? Next time I see you, I’ll make your ass red and your cock hard, but I won’t let you come.”
“You fucking bastard…” He grunts and reaches a hand to his cock, but I keep it in a death grip, pressing my thumb against the tip.
“Don’t even try. I can make it hurt some more.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not today.”
I pull down my overalls, exposing my boxer briefs, and rub my engorged cock against his bruised ass cheeks.
He moans gruffly as I release a hum. Even with my briefs in the way, I can feel the intoxicating heat emanating off his skin.
And I’m drunk on the feeling.
On him.
I could stay here forever, just dry humping him into oblivion.
“Do you want to come, baby? Your cock is throbbing like crazy in my hand.”
“If I say yes, you’ll just say no.”
“Correct.” I smile as I lick the small yin and yang tattoo. “But we can rectify that.”
“How?”
My voice drops an octave. “Tell me who you had better kisses with.”
“I just said that to piss you off.” He rubs his ass against my cock and groans. He’s probably doing it unconsciously because he’s used to me fingering him while jerking him off.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah…”
“You did manage to piss me off.” I tug on his cock a few times.
“Ah, fuck…yes…”
“No.” I squeeze his cock again, just as I feel him shudder.
“Why the fuck did you stop?”
“Because you’re not allowed to come.”
“But I already answered your question.”
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t go unpunished.”
He lets out a whine, trying to escape, but I keep him in an unrelenting hold. Then I slap the side of his ass and his thigh, making him jerk and release these addictive moans.
“You’re leaking, baby. Pain makes you so horny, doesn’t it?”
“Ungh…let me come…” He humps himself all over my cock. “I’ll let you come on my ass.”
“Mmm. Tempting.”
“You know you want to.” He tilts his head in my direction, and, fuck me, his lust-drenched face looks divine—so real and raw. Probably the most genuine part of him I’ve ever seen.
I did that.
I am doing that to Preston Armstrong.
“Do I?” I drawl.
“You’ve been having withdrawals, too. Your cock f-feels…mmmff…heavier than usual.”
Of course, the little minx noticed that. It’s almost terrifying to think of how thick my cock became at the mere idea of him over the past few weeks. Now that I have the real deal in my hands, it’s about to explode.
I pull my own aching cock out and jerk it a few times. “You’ll take my cum over this red ass, baby?”
“Yeah…”
“You’ll let me paint you with my cum?”
He swallows thickly but nods. “Just let me come—”
His words are cut off when I squeeze him tighter, holding him solidly in place as I jerk myself roughly.
Preston tilts his head to the side to watch me, his glistening lips parted, his eyes as bright as a mystic forest. And my cock grows thicker under his gaze, preening like a fucking peacock.
This isn’t enough.
Fuck it.
I release my cock and rub it all over his ass, across the angry red marks I left.