Somewhere, Leah would be thinking of him doing this. Pleasure shuddered through him and he bit back her name, held it tight on his tongue. Breathing, finally, he opened his eyes again. He could come here, on the bed, but something held him back.
He thought of nothing more until he was under the shower’s hot water. He bent to let it pound his back and shoulders, then pushed his face beneath the spray. One of the first commands she’d ever given him was to jerk himself off in the shower and, no matter how many he’d taken since, he never failed to remember that.
She owned him, and he was fine with that, because he wanted to be owned. Leah was the one still uncomfortable with it, no matter how many times he tried to show her there wasn’t much he’d refuse her. There was nothing, in fact, he ever had, and, even though he could imagine a few things she might ask that he’d balk at doing, he also knew she wouldn’t ask him. He knew Leah understood him well enough to never push him beyond where he wanted to go … but she didn’t know she did. Or didn’t want to admit it.
His cock, still half-hard from his musings on the bed, stirred again. Brandon stroked it once, twice, until it tapped his belly when he let it go. Then again, slower this time, leaning into the water. One hand on the wall, head bent into the spray, eyes closed.
Leah’s mouth was tighter than his grip. Wetter. When she sucked his cock she never failed to move lower, tonguing his balls as she used her hand to stroke.
Brandon groaned.
He’d been jerking off for a long time, and yet it didn’t matter that he knew his own body well enough to make himself come within minutes. Every time was different. This time his cock grew almost painfully hard, his balls throbbing, as he pushed into his fist.
Thinking of Leah did that. Remembering the heat of her mouth on him, the play of her fingers on his balls. She liked to tease him close to the edge and ease off. She never made him beg, oh no, that wasn’t quite the way she liked to play. She liked to bind his hands, though, so he couldn’t touch her. She liked to make him crazy by forcing him to watch while she sucked him and played with her clit.
Leah liked to bring them both to the edge, skating so dangerously close he swore there were times he came dry a couple times before he finally shot. She liked to bring herself close, but she hardly ever finished herself. That was reserved for his mouth, his hands, his cock.
A few weeks ago he’d come home from work to find a straight-backed chair in the middle of the bedroom floor. A belt, the old one, not the one she’d given him for Christmas, looped over the back of the chair. He was instantly, almost painfully hard.
Leah, who never made much of latex and vinyl, had appeared in the bathroom doorway. She wore a sheer black bra with tiny red bows at the straps and a matching pair of panties so tiny he’d scoffed at the price tag when he bought them, but paid it anyway. He’d left them for her in the drawer the last time he put away her laundry. She looked gorgeous in them, but he hadn’t expected anything less.
‘Take off your clothes, Brandon.’
He had, slowly, giving her a show. Naked, he sat on the chair, the wood cool under his ass and the straight back pressing the knobs of his spine. He’d put his hands behind him, and when she looped him bound with leather, he’d closed his eyes and breathed deep to steady himself.
Brandon widened his stance, one hand still on the wall, the other on his dick. Hot water cascaded down his back, down the crack of his ass to tickle his balls – not quite as good as Leah’s tongue dancing along his skin, but pretty fucking good. He groaned, then bit back the noise even though he was alone and the rush of water covered it up anyway.
Leah liked to see how long he could go without making any noise.
And Brandon liked – no, loved – giving her what she liked. Why was it so hard for her to see that it was all right? He groaned loudly, through the pleasure. He rolled the head of his cock beneath his palm, then stroked down. He bent his knees a little, easing the ache he knew he’d feel later if he wasn’t careful.
He wasn’t doing this because he couldn’t help it, or couldn’t control it. He wasn’t standing in the shower beating off because he was so overcome with horniness he couldn’t stand it. He was fucking himself right now because he couldn’t fuck her, and because she’d told him he would do it while he thought of her, and because, even though he knew she’d never know for sure if he had or had not, he wanted to make Leah happy.
More than happy. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, to be everything she needed. Brandon wanted to please her because he loved her … and she loved him, dammit, he knew it. Even if it scared her to admit it, he knew she did.
He couldn’t hold back any longer. Orgasm shot through him, tore him apart. Left him hollow. He breathed hard, the shower’s heat leaving him woozy. He switched the water to cold and stood, stoic, as frigid needles stabbed him. Then he got out and scrubbed himself dry so fiercely his skin turned red.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stalked to the bedroom and paced. She’d said not to follow her, and it had been his instinct to obey.
