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“What is it you want, Dante?”
That it’s something I can’t bear to ask for?
“Just tell me,” he says. “Say it out loud. Put me out of my misery. Put the world out of its misery. Everyone has wondered, ever since you first picked up that camera. You need to step in front of the … the figurative camera for once. Tell the world who you are. Tell the world …” He swallows. “Tell me what you want.”
In lieu of telling him anything, I grab the back of his pretty head with my free hand, then thrust my lips onto his at once, taking what I want.
15
From the hungry, virile way in which Tye kisses back, he wants it just as badly as I do.
Except I’m in complete control. With his hands and legs bound, he can only take the kiss as I dig into him with my lips, consuming him.
But he does more than just kiss me back.
He sets my whole soul afire.
I pull away to get a look at him, as if to check whether this is really happening.
The urgent, desperate look in Tye’s eyes is my unquestionable answer.
I don’t know where it goes, but my camera is out of my hands the next instant, and I grab hold of his suspended body as I kiss him again. The tips of my fingers dig into him, exploring him as our mouths crash against one another.
His chest is so firm and toned, yet vulnerable and soft at the sides—especially spread as he is by the sling—his skin daring to be caressed, or tickled, or clawed at by my hungry fingertips.
His ribcage expands and contracts in his black leather tank top with his every jagged breath, like he fears (and excitingly anticipates) every wicked thought in my horny, maddened mind.
I barely pull my mouth away from his to hiss the words: “You shouldn’t have asked what I wanted.”
“I’m glad I did,” he whispers back, breathless.
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes.”
“You want the ball gag back in?”
“Please. Yes. I do.”
“You want me to keep doing things to you? Whatever I want? While continuing the shoot?”
“Yes, Dante. I want it. Yes.”
“Good.” I take hold of the ball gag and slide it right back into his mouth, which he eagerly accepts with a moan and a blissfully anguished creasing of his gorgeous face.
I grab hold of his tank top from the bottom and peel it up his body with such strength, it rips. I drop my mouth to his exposed chest to taste his left nipple. Tye’s struggling—and his moaning behind the gag—tells me all I need to know about what my tongue on his hard nipple is doing to him. I suck harder and listen as he bucks against me, groaning and squirming. He’s helpless and unable to do anything but take it.
Especially when my fingers find his other nipple.
Which I firmly pinch.
I drag my tongue across his nipple, feeling it get even harder. I’m sure that hardness is nothing compared to what’s happening in his tight pants.
As if reading my mind, Tye pulls his feet one at a time. I know that feeling too well, like he’s reminding himself of his predicament—and the lack of choice he has in what happens to him.
I know what he wants.
I can’t just tease his body, lick his nipples, and be as tender with him as I might with a boyfriend. I need to be the other half of the devil he’s conjuring up in his mind; I also need to remind him in my own way how very fucked he is.
I let go of his nipple and rake my hand down his exposed abs—holy fucking shit, this kid has the deepest and tightest abs I’ve ever put my hands on—which flex and dance under my evil fingertips.
Then I grab hold of his bulge through the tight leather pants.
Tye’s eyes snap right to mine at once, wide and unblinking. All of his moaning and squirming has stopped.
Probably because I hold his manhood in my intimidatingly powerful fist.
“You still want me to continue?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm,” he moans, which is gag language for hell yes.
I underestimated the softness of the material of these skintight pants. It’s as if there’s nothing there at all—especially judging from the fact that I can feel every inch of his dick throbbing against my hand—even through the thin, stretchy material.
I strike my gaze down onto him. “You wanted this experience, huh? Isn’t that what you said?”
He doesn’t reply. He just stares at me with his bright blue eyes and that big red ball in his mouth like a third eye, slick and wet with surprise.
Not like he can reply.
Except with a grunt, moan, or whimper.
Which I will happily take. “Let’s see how much of this ‘experience’ you can actually take.”
I let go of his crotch and stroll around him. He twists his head trying to watch where I’m heading, but loses sight of me when I move to the wall right behind him. I fetch from the mounted cabinet a surprise, which clicks lightly in my hand. When I return, his big eyes drop to what I’m holding.
