“Gotcha,” I rasp and wrap my arms around him, pulling him tight against me just in case he has any thoughts of trying to escape.
He stiffens in my arms, and for a second, I think he’s going to shove me away or fight, but it’s like my voice calms his instincts, and he physically relaxes as he leans back against me.
“That’s right,” I say in that same low, slightly raspy voice I used last time. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you texted me, didn’t you?”
“You’re wrong,” he says in a breathy voice.
“I don’t think I am.” I nuzzle my cheek against his, the soft material of the mask catching on both of our stubble as I breathe in the scent of soap and spice that always seems to follow him. “You’re not fighting me,” I tease and drag my cheek over his again.
He makes a little sound, sort of like a frustrated grunt mixed with an exasperated sigh, but I don’t miss how he seems to melt against me a little bit more when I slide my hand down his stomach and gently cup his dick.
He’s already half hard, and I give him a few gentle squeezes as he grows to full mast against my palm.
“This doesn’t lie.” I give him another teasing squeeze.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks, and I can’t tell if the tremble in his voice is from fear or excitement. Or both.
“Depends.” I press my lips against his neck.
The mask is between us, and he must like how it feels against his skin because he lets out a soft moan and tilts his head to the side so I have better access.
“On what?” he asks in that needy, breathy voice that makes me want to do unholy things to him.
“On you.” I press another mask-covered kiss against his throat.
He breathes out a soft sigh and sags in my arms as he fully gives into the moment—and to me.
I love how pliant he is, and how he can go from fiery and defiant to needy and desperate in a heartbeat. And the way he can’t even pretend to fight me is way hotter than it has any business being.
“Me?” he asks, already sounding completely out of it.
“Yes.” I press one more chaste kiss against his neck, then put my lips next to his ear in that way I know drives him crazy. “You have a choice,” I tell him, my voice so low it’s barely above awhisper. “I’m going to fuck you,” I assure him. “Thatpart isn’t up for debate.”
He stiffens again, but the sharp intake of his breath and the way his hard dick pulses under my hand tell me he’s not as opposed to my statement as he probably should be.
“But,” I continue. “It’s up to you to decide if you want to be good and get rewarded, or if you’re going to learn that bad boys get punished.”
He makes a soft, strangled sound that could mean anything, but doesn’t fight or even try to pull away as I slide my other hand up until I’m cradling his throat. I don’t squeeze or try to cut off his air, that’s not what this is about. It’s the threat that Icouldif I wanted to that matters.
“What’s it going to be, West?” I ask when he stays frozen in my arms.
He lets out a soft moan and presses his ass back against my dick when I say his name, and I tuck that away for later.
I’ve noticed how he reacts not just to what I say, but how I say it. I don’t have to use threats or force or coercion to get what I want from him, and there’s something about having that kind of power over him that gets me way hotter than it should.
“Are you going to be good for me?” I drop my voice so it’s more of a low purr than a rasp. “Or am I going to have to teach you a lesson?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding adorably confused and spaced out.
I give his cock a few slow strokes over his sweats and tighten my grip around his throat.
He moans, and my dick pulses with need when he pushes against my hand, silently asking for more.
I reward him by adding a little more pressure to the arteries in his neck, and he lets out a happy-sounding sigh as he grinds his ass back against my dick.
“Did I say you could do that?” I let go of his cock and grip his hip to hold him in place.
“Please,” he whispers.
