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“There you are. My bitch, waiting to get mounted.”
I shuddered. “Yes, Sir.”
He didn’t give me much time to adjust to the situation, simply leaned forward and sank his teeth in against my leather-covered ass. I moaned at the tease of pain. His teeth couldn’t quite get through the leather, but the pinching sensation tweaked a couple of old bruises. Sparks danced on the head of my cock as I swayed my hips, dying for something to rub against. He bit across my ass and down to the top of my thigh, then did the other side. When he took a break, I could barely think.
My body was on fire.
There was nothing and no one here that mattered more than him.
“On your feet,” he growled.
I couldn’t do it. I tried to get up and shivered, falling back down onto my elbows. “Sorry, Sir,” I said, and I hated that the words were watery from my tears.
Albion growled, and I shuddered hard as my cock throbbed. He dragged me to my feet, and I was momentarily disoriented because we were both standing on the table. It didn’t rock at all, as if maybe it had been built with these kinds of things in mind. He stripped my shirt up and off, keeping eye contact with me as he did it. He took the time to tweak both of my nipples until I was sure there must be a puddle of precum in my leather pants. Next on the agenda were my boots. He ducked down and tugged them off, along with my socks. I almost came when he unbuckled my belt.
“Here, Sir?” I asked.
“Oh, fuck yes. I want these people to see what I own and they can’t touch,” he said, a frenzied gleam in his eyes. The front of his jeans wasn’t doing anything to hide the way his cock was trying to punch a hole in them. He stripped me, tugging down my underwear at the same time.
For a few seconds, I shivered, exposed. Strangers drifted closer to watch, and I was excited and ready to be fucked. Albion was staring at me like he would eat me alive. Massimo had his attention focused on me, and even though it was cold—nearly dire—that added to the riot of lightning bolts firing off in my stomach. My cock jerked and smacked my abs, leaving a wet spot behind to cool.
Albion smirked. “My pretty shoelicker. I knew you would love this.”
I wasn’t sure I liked anything about the situation—except the way Albion was looking at me. That was perfect.
“Yes, Sir,” I said, loud enough for him to hear me.
He shoved me down and slapped my hands to the glass, and I was just flexible enough to accomplish it without my knees aching. He ran his hand along my spine, then used his thumbs to spread open my asscheeks. He went to his knees behind me, and as soon as his tongue touched my hole, I was gone in outer space.
I’d never felt such a dreamy river of heat flow through me.
Then, he sank his teeth into my right cheek, and I cried out. After a few seconds, he went back to my hole, biting, then sucking on my rim, so that I had no idea what was going on. My legs began to shake harder, and I almost fell.
At some point, I realized the people around us were shouting out where they wanted Albion to bite—and he was listening. My upper thigh. My left hip. The dimples at the top of my ass. He was sinking in his sharp teeth hard enough to bruise and clearly loving the show we were putting on. After a while he stood, dragging me upright, and shoved the rag into my hands. I swayed, and he grabbed my shoulders.
“You’re leaking like the slut you are,” he said with a satisfied grin I’d never seen.
Massimo was watching him with raised eyebrows.
“I bet this will be a lot better than spit,” he said, toying with my cockhead. It felt like I was being electrocuted, and I bit the tip of my tongue to stave off the need to come. “Use it to shine my boots.”
“What?” I stood there dumbfounded, staring at him.
He crossed his arms, eyebrows diving.
“Yes, Sir,” I said, then fell to my knees. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to.
I stared at his boots. How would I do this?
I held my cock and sort of shook it over the tip of his left boot, but then he grabbed my shoulder and dragged me closer. I moaned and used my cockhead like a paint brush, slathering a wet streak across the cool black leather. It felt so good, and I was so close to emptying my balls. When my cockhead touched the leather for the second time, my balls felt as if they were going to spurt my load everywhere. I would be in trouble if I came without permission, so I forced myself to back off and used the rag to buff the boot.
“You’re doing it wrong, Shoelicker. I want that leather clean,” he barked.
I stared up at him, paralyzed, and then realized what he must want me to do. I leaned down and used my tongue, swiping it across the leather. I tasted my own bitter musk and a hint of whatever had been used to make the boots shine.
My orgasm roared through me, hitting harder than a freight train. I shuddered and kissed all over his boots while pleasure ripped me apart. I couldn’t stop the spray of cum that shot out onto the glass table or the tears that spilled down my cheeks or the way my body shook like a leaf in the wind.
Someone’s hand landed on my ass.
