Page 3 of Merrick

The top swatted Wilder’s hand out from between his legs, and Wilder shot a scathing look over his shoulder. In another scenario, it would have been insubordinate. He would have stopped immediately, taken his partner over his knee, and spanked him until the backs of his thighs were dry and red, then put him back to work. Wilder would have touched himself after that as he liked, to as much pleasure as he allowed himself. But the rules had been clearly stated.

No D/s.

He would abide.

Wilder curled his fists into the sheets and relaxed against the solicited assault, gooseflesh prickling down the length of his spine for how close his orgasm was, even without his own help. His body must have betrayed him in some way, because the top pulled out and tapped against the outside of Wilder’s thigh. It was universal enough. He rolled onto his back, shoulders barely hitting the bed before one of his shins pressed into his chest, his knee hooked over the other man’s shoulder.

He was back inside Wilder with the same amount of stamina he’d already shown, this time getting deeper, stretching Wilder wider open. The man braced himself against Wilder’s chest, fingers curled around one of the harness straps. The room was mostly dark, shadowed, but the frenzy in his eyes was clear, the intensity of the other man’s pleasure almost tangible between them.

“I want to come,” Wilder murmured.

The top arched a brow and threw a suggestive glance down toward the place they were joined. It clearly saidno one is stopping you, except he had. He had stopped Wilder, and he had obeyed.

Another ripple of pleasure rolled through him, droplets of spit splattering against his chest. The ball gag was a nice, if not curious, touch. The man’s chin and neck dripped with his own spit, but he didn’t seem to care. He was more lost than Wilder had ever seen, body moving because it knew what to do to get what it wanted.

The man shuddered and his back bowed, entire body bending forward as his hips stuttered. Wilder felt the other man come, the way his cock thickened and his pulse beat strong and steady in his shaft. Wilder closed his eyes and exhaled a trembling breath, so close to the edge himself but never able to get there unassisted. Before he could reach down again and stroke himself—which he was ready to be insistent about—the man pulled out of him with no warning.

Wilder’s hole gaped and sucked after the cock that had split him open, only to find air. Without much thought, he reached to draw the man back into him, but he was between Wilder’s legs, fingers digging into the inside of Wilder’s thighs. He spread Wilder’s legs apart and pressed his mouth against Wilder’s cock. There was no sucking or licking, the gag making it impossible, but that wasn’t enough to stop the other man from taking what he wanted.

Or giving it.

Wilder was a little lust drunk and not quite sure.

The top dragged his mouth, the gag, his whole face across Wilder’s thick and throbbing cock, and suddenly…itwasenough. His back arched off the bed, his breath catching as tendrils of pleasure tangled together at the base of his spine. The man grabbed Wilder’s hand, set it on top of his head and grunted, nodding against Wilder’s palm.

It all happened in less than two seconds, and Wilder’s fingers scraped the other man’s scalp. There was no purchase to be had, not enough hair, but he did what he could, holding theman’s face so Wilder’s cock pressed against him from cheek to eyebrow. He thrust like that a couple of times, the barely present five o clock shadow on the other man’s jaw sending an unexpected bolt of friction through them both.

Wilder came with a surprised cry, his load splattering against the other man’s forehead and hairline. He held his shaft against a warm cheekbone until he’d emptied himself entirely, and only then did he let go. They both collapsed on the bed, catching their breath, rough inhales coming in opposite time. He could have stayed there for hours, but the other man was up within minutes and swiping a thick glob of cum from his temple.

“Let me,” Wilder said, sitting up quickly and scrambling for the armoire against the wall where he knew the club kept clean towels and wet wipes. The other man didn’t argue. He watched Wilder like a hawk, eyes narrowing into slits when Wilder took enough care to tidy up some of the spit from the man’s chin and underside of his jaw.

Wilder was not unfamiliar with hookups or the culture around them, but getting dressed and leaving this man there alone almost felt careless. He finished cleaning him up before tossing the wipes into a trash can. He was about to say something, though he wasn’t sure what, but the sound of a low moan behind him stopped him dead in his tracks. He waited, counted to three, then turned to find the man with the condom off and his cock in hand. He was still half-hard and he stroked himself all the way rigid in no time.

Wilder’s mouth went dry, and he held out his hand.

The man dropped the used condom onto his waiting palm, and Wilder flung it into the trash on top of the discarded wipes. There was a dismissal in the air between them, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

No D/s,he reminded himself.

The other man watched him carefully as Wilder lubed up his plug and lifted his foot onto the bed. He slid the toy back into himself with ease, even if he was sensitive from the fucking. With the base adjusted between his ass cheeks, he stepped back into his pants and sat down to relace up his boots. Ready as he’d arrived, there wasn’t anything else to say…or if there was, there certainly wouldn’t be anything to be said in return.

Before he did something regrettable, like ask for another round—because he could certainly handle it—he gave the man one last look, committing his flushed cheeks and dark eyes to memory, then he walked out of the playroom and didn’t look back. He went downstairs, ordered himself a drink, and made himself comfortable on a black leather couch in the downstairs playroom. The plug shifted inside of him and Wilder ignored the way it made him want.

It was the middle of the week, so the club was fairly dead, but it wasn’t too long before a curious couple made their way into the playroom. A man and a woman, which wasn’t unheard of at Rapture, but still relatively uncommon. A second man followed close behind them, a bottle of water held loosely in his fingers. They found the spanking bench first, then realized Wilder was there on the couch with a vodka soda in hand.

“Are you okay watching?” the taller man asked. He was objectively handsome, with light brown hair and pale eyes. His body was all angles and slim muscles, a sharp contrast to the soft strength of the other man and the delicate curves of the woman. After he asked Wilder, he pressed his finger against the bottom of the woman’s chin and tilted her face up. “Do you want to be watched?”

She looked between her two partners, to Wilder, then back to the man who’d asked the question.

“I can go,” Wilder offered.

“I’m okay,” she said, clearing her throat and repeating it a second time, less shaky. “I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t the question,” he said gently. “If I may be so bold.”

Her lips were the same shade of red as her fingernails, and when she pressed at her lower lip with the tip of one of the nails, Wilder found himself reminded of the man upstairs and the way he’d used his face to make him come.

“I want to be watched,” the woman said.