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He nods, mumbles affirmation, not even a word, just an encouraging hum.
“But first I want to get my fingers into you.” I smile against his lips, kissing him hard, feeling him tremble as I work my dry fingers into his ass. I pull them out only to spit on them, then go back to rubbing his puckered hole, forcing him open little by little. All of a sudden he gives way, stops clenching up against me and his breath gusts against my mouth in a gasp as two fingers slide deep into him. “Look at you, taking it dry,” I murmur. “So desperate for it.”
He glares back, his eyes dark and intense. “Fingers, again? Why isn’t your cock inside me?”
“Because I want to watch you beg for it.”
“I can beg,” he says, licking at my mouth. “Please, Leo. Please fuck me...”
He breaks off as I slip another finger into him, pushing deeper, spreading him wide. He’s close already. I feel it in the way he trembles and gasps, the way he grips the chains on his cuffs to steady himself.
“Please, Leo,” he says again, his voice strained and desperate. “You were right. I need it. Ineedit. Please.”
“You can do better than that,” I tell him, as he wraps his legs around my waist, angling his ass toward me. My fingers slide in to the hilt and he winces before I turn my hand a little and find that magic button.
“Holy fuck,” he chokes out.
“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never had it before, Castellani, but only when you’ve groveled enough for my liking.”
He’s sweating now, that smooth, arrogant forehead glistening as he throws his head back. “Fuck me, Leo, right now, or I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” I smirk as I lean forward and bite into his shoulder. His legs wrap tight, pulling me closer against him. “Now you’re making me think you wantthis,” I murmur, flexing my fingers in his ass. “How pathetic does that make you? Tell me you’re my little bitch, Castellani, and then I’ll fuck your hole. Maybe I’ll even grease up to do it, if you’re lucky.”
He grunts, but still holds me there, his muscles tense, his body arching against my hand, bouncing a little, enjoying himself on my fingers.
“Say it, or I won’t bother wasting my dick on you.”
He twists on my hand, gasping. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then untie me,” he says.
“I thought you liked being tied up, Castellani. Don’t tell me you’re getting bored already.”
He snarls, a low sound that vibrates through his chest. “Do it or fuck off, Bernardi.”
“Say it. Say ‘I’m Leo Bernardi’s little bitch and he totally owns this slut hole.’”
“Shut up!” he snaps, and I laugh, twist my hand a little more. He jerks against me, trying to escape my fist as I pump three fingers in and out of his ass.
I pull him close and bite at his ear before growling, “You don’t say it, you don’t get dicked down. I like my bitches to know their place.”
I’ve got him. He goes stiff, arching, gasping and moaning as I rub over that sweet spot, and he’s right there, the tension at breaking point. He shakes in my arms, his legs twitching and trembling around me, his asshole clutching so hard on my hand that I can’t even spread my fingers. “There you go,” I murmur. “Come on, show me what a good little bitch you are.”
He gives a strangled cry as he unloads, flooding my belly with his hot seed.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I say, pressing up into his hole as hard as I can. “One little dribble after I went to all this trouble?”
He’s furious, glaring at me, but his body overtakes him again as I massage his insides, and he curses me out, bucking against my hand, shuddering, swinging on the cuff chains. He drenches me so hard I wonder for a second if he pissed himself, but the hot scent of cum is unmistakable. I’ve smelled his enough times to have it as a sense memory, my own dick throbbing in sympathy as I breathe him in deep.
I laugh, still holding him as he jerks, coming down from his orgasm, and I pull my fingers free. “That was good, Castellani. Real good.” As soon as he’s done, he kicks away from me, his foot catching me in the gut. It’s enough to make me take a step back. “Calm down,” I chuckle. “I’ll untie—“
But I’ve underestimated Julian Castellani again. He does this incredible gymnastic twist, swinging his legs up over his head until they plant on the roof. It’s a startling move that gets him enough slack in the chain to slip the cuffs right off the goddamn hook, and he lands on his feet again like a cat, hands still cuffed, but with a long chain between them, the perfect length for strangling a man to death.
A man like me, say.
He’s already charging at me, so all I can do is get my hands up to prevent that chain wrapping around my neck. He slams into me hard enough to push me into the wall, pushing with all his strength at the chain. It’s a hair’s breadth from my throat, cutting hard into my fingers where I managed to catch hold. He leans forward, pushing, staring into my face, fury in his eyes.
But there’s also something else: a strange, wild terror.
He’s…afraid.
