I roll him over on the bed and he goes eagerly enough, expecting that he’ll get what he wants. But I’m not in the business of fulfilling expectations; I always try to exceed them. I plant his hands on the bars of the headboard and lay down on top of him, letting him feel my heat and my sweat and my hard cock nestling between his asscheeks. “You hang on to that,” I say in his ear. “If you let go, even for a second, I stop.”
Finch lets out a whimper, and it almost breaks me, makes me want to drive into him. His hole is right there and available; when I move, the head of my cock drags over it, and it takes every ounce of self-control to hold back. I see his fingers tighten so hard that his knuckles turn white.
“Good boy,” I breathe. “Now we can begin.”
I peel myself off of him and look at him splayed out on the bed, his body begging mutely for mine. His ass is something Michelangelo might have carved; each globe perfectly sculpted with gentle concaves on each side. Christ. I hope he stays young and beautiful forever…or at least keeps his ass looking just like this.
“Knees,” I tell him, and he awkwardly pulls his knees up under him while still clinging to the bars of the headboard. One day I’m going to tie him up. That’s definitely going to happen. But right now it’s fun to watch the struggle.
I’m sitting behind him, and I take in the sight of his perfect ass, beautiful balls hanging below, and his cock, hard and wagging under his belly.
“It was a good dinner,” I say.
He rests his forehead on his arm. “It was.”
“But I’m not done eating for the day.”
I hear his sharp gasp and allow myself a smile. I guessed right. There are some guys who go crazy for what I’m about to do, and Howard Fincher Donovan the Third is one of them. “I don’t need any special spoons for this, do I?” I ask him, and slap his left asscheek, hard enough to leave a pink flush.
He moans at that. “N-no.”
How about that. A stutter. The way to shut Finch’s mouth for him is to eat his ass. I file that information away for future reference, and get down to it. His ass is like a giant candy apple, so I open my mouth wide and take a slow, wet bite on top of the mark left over from my slap. The noise he makes…God. If my cock was any closer, I’d give up and drive it home. I bite some more, shallow, tender, no sting at all, just close my teeth on his flesh and suck it up a little as I do. I work my way around in circles leading inevitably to that pretty pink hole of his, and then flick my tongue over it, just to see what he’ll do.
He goes perfectly still. “Please,” he says, when I don’t continue. “Please.”
“As long as you’re polite about it,” I murmur, my lips pressed against his ring. I nuzzle into his crack, spreading his cheeks wider, and give him a long, wide lick from taint to tailbone.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“You hold on tight, angel,” I remind him. “If I see those hands move, I stop.”
It doesn’t stop him from squirming against my mouth, trying to open himself up and let my tongue in. I don’t mind. It’s what I’m aiming for, after all. I want him relaxed and ready for my cock when I tire of this. I don’t think Finch would ever tire of it, though; and his words have returned with a vengeance, spilling out of him: pleading, begging, cursing, thanking me.
I stab the tip of my tongue right at his pucker and he groans and presses back. I get a hand under him to check his dick; he’s slippery with pre-cum, and I start to jack him with his own fluid as lube.
“I’ll shoot,” he babbles. “I’ll shoot, I will, I swear to God, if you keep doing that—”
“No,” I say calmly. “When I’m done fucking you, and only then, you will ask permission to come. And if you’ve been a very good boy, I’ll let you. But you must be good. Understand?”
“I understand. I’ll be good. Please.”
“Let go of the bars.”
It’s almost as if he doesn’t trust me, like if he lets go I’ll tell him he’s been bad. I plant one last kiss on his ring, openmouthed with lots of tongue, and then pat his ass. “Let go. I want you to turn over.”
He lets go, clenching his fingers to relieve the muscles, and I help him flip over once more, legs bent, splayed to either side of me where I kneel between them. His gorgeous cock is quivering in mid-air, fully unsheathed, dripping like a tap that hasn’t been turned off completely.
His face is unearthly in this soft light. He is a fucking Angel of the Lord sent down just to tempt this devil back to Heaven. He reaches out his hands to me, like a baby seeking blindly, and I stretch out over him, supporting myself on one arm and stroking my dick with the other. I’m so hard for him I’m starting to worry I’ll spill within three seconds of getting inside him, but one look in his eyes and I almost forget my own dick.
I’ve never seen Finch vulnerable. Not like this. Something flares inside me, some strange and savage instinct.
Mine.
Chapter Sixteen
FINCH
This husband of mine will be the death of me.
This beautiful, violent, tempestuous man is going to kill me if he doesn’t get his cock in me right goddamn now. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m never so needy, not with the hookups I used to have, not even when I
