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When I couldn’t see them from my vantage point, I followed them into the bedroom, my jeans a mess, my cock still drooling and balls blue.
What did he plan to do with her next? He laid her out on the sheets.
Tarryn was glassy eyed and shut down, the way she got in the aftermath of a spectacular orgasm, but if his still-impressive erection was any indication, he wasn’t done with her yet. I stood inside the doorway, watching, not sure if he would get freaked out if I whipped out my dick and gave it some attention. It wouldn’t take much to relieve the pressure from watching him worshiping her the way she deserved. I was married to the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, and doing this had been as erotic as I’d hoped, watching him appreciate what was mine—what would never be his.
He turned his head to look at me, his pale eyes almost electrifying me where I stood. I shuddered, and he crooked a finger, summoning me closer.
Cautiously, I approached, wondering what he had in mind. Maybe he wanted me to hold her down, or for us to double-team her? Tarryn and I hadn't discussed that ahead of time.
“On your knees.”
What?
I stared at him, realizing he was broader than me, and slightly taller. The idea that he could probably make me do it flashed through my mind. It had been a long time since someone had tried to boss me around. I was dominant, and I wasn’t into men.
“What? Why?”
“You’re the one who wanted to play this game. You invited me in.”
“So?”
“Get on your fucking knees.” There was something in his gaze that let me know I wasn’t the ringmaster of this circus, no matter what I’d thought.
I shook my head. Swallowed. “I don’t…play with other men.”
“I’m not playing.” He pointed to the floor in front of him. He didn’t touch me, but his jaw hardened, and I could see it all in my head—how I would refuse, and he would force me down. Maybe it was only my imagination, but the malice in his gaze was evil and captivating. “This isyourfantasy.”
This wasn’t part of my fantasy.
I searched his face. There was no hesitation in it, no hint that he thought I might refuse him. I’d never submitted to anyone in my life. It absolutely wasn’t my kink.
“I don’t think—”
“I didn’t ask you to fucking think.” He caught me by the hair and pushed me downward. I should have fought—should have safeworded—but instead, I lowered myself to my knees, my gaze taking in every hard ripple of muscle in his chest and stomachon my way down. His pants were open, in peril of slipping from his hips, and his cock jutted straight at me, imposing, glistening with his and Tarryn’s combined cum.
“Clean this mess.”
What? No.
I wouldn’t.
Absolutely not.
I lifted my gaze to his, assuming there would be some last-minute reprieve where he would laugh and tell me he was fucking with me.
Why wasn’t I getting up? Pushing him away? There was no gun to my head, but he was impossible to refuse.
Why?
There was an aura around him—command mixed with a desirability that made me feel like I was his inferior. No other man had ever made me feel that way.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
God, his eyes were cold. Calculating. Was he reading my mind? Could he see something I’d been hiding from myself? I’d never wanted a man before, but I got the feeling his gender was completely irrelevant to how I was feeling.
Maybe I was slightly curious to see what this was like. It didn’t need to mean anything. If Tarryn had been doing this for me since way before we should have even been thinking about sex, I should at least know what it felt like. Right? It felt weirdly fair.
