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While on my knees, I tentatively start running the cloth over each of his legs. His large thighs flex every time I get even close to his cock, which I’m definitely saving for last. After both of his legs, I reach around and do his taut ass cheeks. He groans, the sounds vibrating through my body, and I can’t help imagining what his ass looks like while he takes me.
I shut down my dirty thoughts as my face turns red. I drop the washcloth to the ground, knowing I won’t need it for what's to come next.
My eyes finally land on the iron rod between his legs, which I have been trying to avoid. It looks painfully swollen, making me feel a little guilty that I haven't helped him relieve this.
“I want you to jerk me off, and when I’m ready to come, you’re going to close your eyes and open your mouth so I can come all over your pretty face.”
Swallowing hard, I nod slightly and follow his command. I wrap my small hand around his swollen shaft and start to stroke up and down his length. He groans and thrusts his hips into my hand so slightly, I’m not sure he is aware of doing it.
“Do you even know how hard you make me? Pretending you don’t know what you are doing. Use both hands, sugar. Jerk me like you mean it.”
Again, I do what he says. Using both of my hands, I stroke him hard. His groans get louder, and his body starts twitching while my knees are aching and my arms are starting to get tired.
“Fuck. I’m already ready to come. Close your eyes, open your mouth, and stick your tongue out,” he orders, and I obey.
A moment later, his cock swells in my hands. He stills, and ropes of sticky cum hit my face. Some gets into my mouth, making me cringe at the salty taste it leaves on my tongue.
“Swallow it,” he demands, his voice rough and gravelly. “Then lick my cock clean.”
Without questioning him, I swallow, then stick my tongue out and run it over his skin, licking him clean of the leftover cum.
A small voice in the back of my head tells me what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn't let him boss me around like this. But then there's this other voice, the more depraved part of me, that knows this is exactly what I want. I want him to take control, to tell me what to do. I want to please him.
“Good girl,” Alaric praises as I get back on my feet. “I’d like to do the same for you right now, but unfortunately, that will have to wait. I have somewhere to go, and if I start eating that sweet pussy of yours now, I know I’ll miss my meeting.”
I try to hide my disappointment, but the deep chuckle coming from him tells me I wasn’t able to. I quickly wash my hair and body before rinsing off. Alaric steps out of the shower and dries himself off. When I step out, he holds up a fluffy white towel to wrap me up in.
Back in the bedroom, he gives me another clean oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants. While I roll the waistband five times, he gets into a black button-up shirt and a charcoal suit. Curiosity has a question on the tip of my tongue, but I know better than to ask him where he’s going.
“Let’s get you something to eat really quick.” He takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen where he gets out some granola bars, a protein shake, and a bottle of water. “I don’t really have anything else here, but I’ll bring some lunch.”
“This is fine,” I tell him, not wanting to mention that this is better than what I usually eat for breakfast.
“All right, back this way,” he tells me, carrying the food and drinks. I’m a little confused when he leads me back to the bedroom and dumps everything on the bed. He goes to the nightstand and pulls out the handcuffs from yesterday.
“You don’t have to do that. I told you I’ll cooperate.”
“And I told you that I don’t trust you yet. So either you can get on the bed so I can cuff you, or I’ll lock you in the trunk of my car while I’m at my meeting.”
I basically jump onto the bed at the mere thought of being locked in a small and dark space. Alaric gives me a curious look, raising his eyebrow in question like he is trying to solve a puzzle. Thankfully, he doesn't comment because I’m not about to explain that part of myself.
“I won’t be long,” he promises as he cuffs my wrist to the iron bar on his headboard. As soon as he’s done, he turns away from me and leaves the room without another glance back. It’s almost like he can’t get away quick enough.
The question is, is he hurrying away because he has to or because he wants to?
