Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
His response to my urgency was frustratingly milder. He rose from his seat, taking his sweet-ass time, and finished the last of his waffle. Then he wiped his fingertips covered in powdered sugar and maple butter on my damn shirt.
“Do you need something from me?” he asked, still chewing.
I clenched my jaw and eyed the fabric on my arm that now held traces of sugar.
And so the degradation began, I guessed.
“Yes.” I was ready to beg too.
He nodded and walked over to the sink…to wash his hands. “Show me your bedroom. I’d like to see how far you’re willing to go to get me to fuck you.”
That was enough to make me clench. God, I truly was a slut.
“You didn’t list physical pain on your embarrassingly long fetish list,” he noted. “I take it you’re not that kind of masochist.”
“That’s correct for the most part…” I trailed off. I wanted to be polite, and I didn’t know if he had a preference in titles. “Do you want me to call you something specific as a sign of respect?”
He quirked a little smirk and dried his hands—on a towel this time. “I’m not huge on titles for myself, but for some reason, I want to hear you call me Sir and son. For now. I have another title saved for the future.”
The future? Did we have one? Would he agree to meet with me discreetly if he did move back to town?
What a dangerously appealing idea.
“Sir and son,” I confirmed. For now.
On the way to the bedroom, I told him that, yes, physical pain was one of the few kinks I had no interest in, but it was situational. Kingsley had shown me the difference between bending over for someone’s whip—which wasn’t my thing—and acting like a human table for a Dom’s pleasure, which was more up my alley. To be objectified and degraded required a bit of suffering. And pain could be a useful tool to get me there.
“That’s sort of what I was getting at,” he responded. He took in the sight of my bedroom and told me to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed. “As a masochist, I prefer physical pain,” he went on. “As a Sadist, however, I want my partner to suffer emotionally and mentally. It’s why I love humiliation sluts. There isn’t anything you won’t do for a little cock.”
There we go. I flinched at the mental punch, all while it filled me with dirty excitement. It was the most erotic and intense feeling.
I got down on my knees for him right there on the floorboards, and he came over to me and lifted my chin.
“Do you want a pillow to kneel on?” He threaded his fingers into my hair and raked them against my scalp. “You’re not some spring chicken anymore, and I don’t want you to break anything.”
Disbelief and annoyance mingled with that sweet, addictive tap on my humiliation button. Tate had become an expert at pushing it. I had no doubt in my mind that Jack was next.
“I can manage,” I replied. At his quirked brow, I reluctantly added, “Sir.”
Because fuck if the annoyance wasn’t real. Forty-seven wasn’t that old. Just…a lot older than thirty-two.
“That’s better.” He stepped closer to me and finally undid his belt and pants. “I trust you’re familiar with the color system for safewords?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. We’ll use those from here on out.” He cupped his soft-looking crotch and brushed his thumb over his cock, and my mouth watered at the sight. The belt landed on the floor, but he didn’t push down his pants. He only adjusted himself with the zipper open, and he fondled himself through his black boxer briefs. “Get me hard with your mouth, old man. No hands. Through the fabric. I wanna see you suck the pre-come through my underwear.”
I shuddered and obliged eagerly, burying my face against him. Oh God, finally. No time to waste—I took as much of him as I could into my mouth, first his balls, then his cock, and I laved him with my tongue.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “The man I looked up to for so long… Turns out, you’re nothing but a pathetic cockslut.”
I moaned against him and wrapped my arms around him, my hands quickly finding his delectable little ass. For every second that ticked by, he grew harder behind the offending fabric.
The only sexy thing about underwear was watching someone come in his boxer briefs—and be there to lick up the fluids that seeped through.
“Do you have any verbal triggers or topics that kill the fun?” He drew countless shivers from me with those fingers of his in my hair. I could only shake my head and keep working on my wet spot in his underwear. “Are you sure? This is serious, honey.”