Page 61 of Pretty ’n Peak

Mateo nodded at each sentence. “I want that.” He wanted to push himself. Wanted to wear Austin’s marks for days. Hopefully weeks.

Wanted to please his Daddy.

Austin stepped away, the rush of air cooling his overheated skin. One of Austin’s hands rested on his arm, just beyond his elbow.

The thin length slid along his back, horizontally across both shoulders.

There was a whistling sound and then… torture. Harsh flames kissing his back, like nothing ever before.

A raw, ragged cry rose from his throat.

Austin’s hand moved soothingly on the back of his neck, burrowing under the towel, while his heart raced.

“Color?”

Mateo sucked in a breath of air. He felt like his body had been flung away to the farthest corners of the room, and he was trying to gather it back in.

He could still feel his dick straining against his jeans, but even that was distant. It was only Austin’s hand holding him together.

He knew that if he said red, or even yellow, it would all stop. Green would mean another round of agony.

And somehow, crazily, that was what he craved.

“Green,” he whispered.

“Beautiful boy,” Austin praised, pinning everything together. “Take just four more for me.”

Four more. Yeah. He could do this.

A whistle of air and then… he was screaming again.

Hurting.

Burning.

Needing.

He had no number for the flashes of pain, the way they raced through him, burrowing into his very cells.

All he knew was glorious agony, and then Austin was pressed against his back, one hand splayed across his chest and the other cupping his cock, squeezing and stroking through the thick denim.

He’d been burned up, hollowed out, leaving only this fragile shell held together by the strong arms around him.

“Come for me, boy.”

Mateo didn’t even know how, but he did, waves of pleasure slamming through him, throat raw.

The ecstasy tangled up inside him, mingling with the pain and the rush. It seemed like it would never end, disconnected from time and space.

He became slowly aware of soft whispers against his ears, the towel lifting from his neck. It was all words of adoration and pride, telling him how good he’d been, how perfectly he’d reacted.

He wanted to float in that hazy space forever.

“Close your eyes,” Austin told him. “I’m going to take off the blindfold, but leave them closed.”

He almost didn’t want it removed, because he didn’t want anything to change. The ache in his arms was immaterial.

But Austin’s voice was so gently commanding that he nodded anyway.