I could already hear Mom’s voice in my head: “Blake Morgan the third! I am disappointed in you. It’s hard for me to even call myself your mother.”
That was what she’d say.
I know!
Not only was Mom the master of rhetorical questions, but the queen of guilt.
With an all-knowing, ‘I got the dirt on you’ face, Poppy leaned into my direction, and asked, “Why do you care so much, honey? Is your name one of them?”
I’d never confirm it, so I replied, “No, Poppy. I wasn’t taken to Manhattan General.”
“But you were at Glamorama. Weren’t you?”
My eyes panned over to Thor for help. If anyone could shoot her down, it would be him.
“Gurl, bye,” he sassed, waving her off as if she were a fly or a regaled lady-in-waiting at the Queen’s court.
“Whaaat?” She appeared shocked that Thor wouldn’t help her.
“We’re done here, Poppy. Thank you for ruining our lunch. Now go be the reporter you were born to be, and flit the fudge outta here.” He snapped his fingers rudely.
Part of his short fuse was because of what he’d just been through with the doctors and his parents. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve entertained the conversation longer and possibly worked with her on a resolution. But right then, Thor Edwards was allowed to have zero patience for bullshit, otherwise known as Poppy White.
She frowned and got to her feet, collecting her stuff.
“Oh, Poppy… I do remember something about that night,” Thor said passively.
“Yay!” She clapped her jeweled hands together. “And what is it?” Standing over us, she leaned down, nearly putting her cleavage in our faces.
Knowing he hadn’t gone to Glamorama that night, I stared at him suspiciously.
“That if you do air those names tomorrow—and let’s say hypothetically they damage any of my friend’s reputations—I’ll be sure to sic Vive on you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She drew the handbag close to her bosom.
“Didn’t Farnworth Firewater sponsor your show this year?” Thor’s well-groomed brows drew together as one.
“Yeah…so?”
Poppy wasn’t as smart as I thought.
“That’s Vive’s family’s money, darling. You screw us and she’ll be sure to screw you, too, boo. She’ll get her daddy to pull the advertising dollars that makes your lil’ show happen faster than you can say…Oprah Fuckin’ Winfrey.”
As if only just then understanding what he meant, her overly shadowed, almond-shaped eyes narrowed. “Don’t you be threatening me, Thor.”
“He isn’t threatening you, Poppy.” Grabbing my spork, I scooped a piece of chicken from my salad, popping it into my mouth with a smile and a chew before finishing, “He’s merely suggesting that you don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” With my free hand, feeling a little fierceness swell inside me, I twiddled my fingers in the air saying ‘toodles’.
In a huff, she strutted away from our table and toward the door.
The prolonged anticipation of having to wait all day to see Diego was almost unbearable. The mere thought of that man made me hard. My body craved him like Lex did her Yoo-hoo beverage. I hoped he felt the same way about me.
He had to. Right? That kiss and then the text where he stated he was thinking about me had made my heart melt.
I’d texted in advance letting him know when to expect me. And even though I had changed my clothes three times from casual to hip then back to casual, I was still a few minutes early. I was more excited than nervous to see him again.
Greeting me at the door, wearing sweat pants and a wife-beater, Diego put one of his muscular arms against the doorframe, revealing an armpit. A hot, sexy please-let-me-lick-it armpit at that.
Slowly, as if taking his time, he looked me over seductively, causing my stomach to flutter and my chest to expand.
Something intense, almost dirty, flared between us. I adjusted myself.
My senses reeled as if short-circuiting. I was totally entranced by his compelling personage. I didn’t know what to say. Realizing it was winter, I licked my lips a few times then asked, “Aren’t…‘ya cold in that?”
“Do I look like it?” he asked in confidence, a wide grin on his lips as if already knowing he was steaming lust and fire from every pore of his body. Even the mere sparkle in his eyes utterly turned me on.
Staring back at him with a longing I couldn’t hide any longer, I studied his lean, dark-skinned face before replying, “No. You look hot.” Once the admission released from my lips, I caught my breath in my throat, straightened my shoulders, and muttered, “You gonna let me in?”
“Sí,” he agreed and stepped back, letting me into the room. The sexy blue rope was on the nightstand.
Oh, boy.
The lights were dim.
Almost as if photographing his dick, my eyes went straight for his crotch. I wanted to remember the moment—Diego’s male beauty, his very presence with mine, the two of us alone—for forever. Under the sheer jersey cotton fabric, I could make out the shape of his thick, apparently hard, and somewhat c-shaped into a perfect upward curve of a penis.
Clearly, he’s circumcised.
Long and snake-like, the dude was hung as if there was a garden hose in his pants.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I realized my own dick was swelling fast. Hard as a rock, there was an ache for release as I’d never experienced before.
I cleared my throat, pretending not to be affected by the mere thought of giving him a blow job. Good Lord, I wanted to drop to my knees and suck him like a baby calf to a mother’s teat.
“Where’s Miguel?” I asked, hoping we’d be alone.
“At his art studio. With his exhibit coming up, he’ll probably pull an all-nighter.”
“Miguel gets college credit for that?” I didn’t know the school had such programs.
“Sí. He’s an art major.”
“Oh, right.” I needed to sit for a second. The ideas of what we were about to do sent my spirits soaring. Obvious to us both as to why I was there, I took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been thinking about the rope. Actually, it’s been building up in my head all day, as somewhat of a fantasy.”
He grinned at me mischievously.
As I adjusted myself again, for the umpteenth time, I felt dampness on the front of my pants.
Fuck. Pre-cum.
Utterly compelling, his magnetism was so potent I could get drunk just by looking at him. Clearly my body couldn’t control itself.
“And?” He came over and straddled my legs, curled himself into the curve of my body. Then his sexy mouth descended to meet mine, first slowly, drugging those lips until our tongues danced.
With a lightness in my chest, my lips burned in the aftermath of his kiss. Damn, he’s good. Gasping in delight, I reached for his hand and embraced the adrenaline rush of being with him. The stroke of his skin sent erotic jolts through every part of my body. There was a dreamy intimacy between us, as if everything around us was standing still. Except for my heart. That was beating at a zillion pulses a second.
Wet. His mouth covered mine hungrily as we tongued all over again.
Fuuuck. I curled my toes. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through me. I was going to cum in my pants. Any second now. Air, I need to breathe. Instinctively, my hand came up to his chest, begging for a minute.
Filled with desire to know, my pulse quickened as I demanded, “Tell me why you have the rope...”
“I like to use it when I’m having sex.” His mouth grazed my earlobe.
Hearing that made my heart thump erratically. I bit down on my lower lip before asking, “Do you get tied up or do they?” When he didn’t give me an answer, I pressed my open lips to his and murmured, “Tell…me.”
“Usually, they do.” He kissed the sensitive spot of my neck. “I like the power it gives me, having someone helpless under my body. I’m in complete control
of them.” A series of slow kisses all over my entire face ensued. It sent a shiver up and down my spine until he rested his lips against my scar, kissing it…twice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I replied, “The doctors told me I have nerve damage. Mostly, it just feels numb.” Self-conscious, my gaze fell on the floor.
“Hey, guapo…look at me.” He grabbed my chin, his brown eyes flickering with intent. “Let me see your smile.”
My face must’ve been bright red, because I felt embarrassed. I grinned back at him.
“There you go, guapo. You are a beautiful man.” His lips brushed my scar.
Drugged by his compliments, feeling a bit more self-confident, I muttered, “Thanks,” and kissed him back. We took our time getting to know every square inch of each other’s flesh. Curious to see what all that control would feel like, I confessed, “I want to tie you up.”
“Why?”
“The power.” My emotions skittered. “Lately, my life has been sorta slipping through my hands—”
“So...you tying me up will help balance you out?”
“Maybe.” My consciousness seemed to ebb and then the burning desire to fuck him took over, more than ever. “Have you ever been tied up before?”
“No. Like I said, usually I do all the tying.”
My lips curved down into a frown.
“But…”
“Yes?” My voice went up an octave.
“I’m willing to bottom for you, so I might as well let you tie me up.”
“Really?” My eyes blinked.
“Sí.”
“Good. Very good.”
His muscular arms came wide. He peeled off his cotton tank, revealing his gorgeous chest. Perfectly sculpted. His nipples, like two blackberries, stared back at me, persuading to be tasted, sucked, and played with.
“Lick my pecs, guapo,” he panted, grabbing on to my face, pulling my lips onto his flesh. “They’re sensitive. My nips go straight to my dick. You touch them and I get hard…Sí.”
Such knowledge could be perilous. He struck a vibrant chord in me…
I stuck my tongue out a bit and licked, once, twice. My teeth caught on the edge of his right nipple as I gave it a slight tug. His tormented groan was a heady invitation to keep going. And so I grazed my tongue across his smooth chest and continued the licking, biting playfully on his other pec. His body shivered in my arms. I liked how vulnerable he was becoming. There was something alluring about the man, being so muscular and masculine, and yet willing to let me have my way with him.
I had no power over all the crazy shit going on in my life. But in Diego’s bed, I had a sense of control. I needed that. If only for one night. It felt new and different to me, and I intended to enjoy every minute.
He pulled my shirt up. Holding onto his shoulders, I stood. With a projected energy and power which attracted me to him, he yanked my pants and then my underwear down.
Being naked in front of him, I didn’t feel as vulnerable as I thought I would. If anything, my excitement only continued to climb.
And then he…stroked…my dick.
“Guapo, you like that?” he murmured, fisting his hands over my erection.
“Ah-huh,” I replied in a husky whisper.
Hard, my shaft thickened in his hands. The way he manhandled me felt hot, too. His palms were callus and rough but with my dick, he was almost gentle. He rubbed the bare skin, admiring the mushroom head of my penis.
Raw. Sensitive.
Staring up at me, his chest rose as he moaned, “I’m going to get your cock nice and wet. Then you’re going…to tie me up.”
“Start sucking, papi,” I said in a throaty voice and lost myself in his mouth. Getting more turned on by the second as he gave me oral pleasure, becoming sensitive to his every touch, my nipples tightened.
I didn’t know who I was or what the frick I was doing. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience. I was no longer Blake Morgan III, Fairfield native, Avon Porter graduate, and Columbia University student.
No!
I was guapo, the raging dominant and soon-to-be top aficionado of all things ass.
Tugging at my balls, his head jerked back and forth. Getting into a rhythm, he rotated his attention from the tip of my dick to my shaft.
Waves of pleasure throbbed through me. The warmth of his hot flesh was amazing.
He reached for the rope from the nightstand and instructed in sweet agony, “Tie me up.” And spread out on his back.
Climbing on top of him, I placed his hands near the headrest. Taking his right hand in mine, I recalled my good ‘ol Boy Scout days of knots and wrapped the blue rope once, twice, around his wrist. Then I pulled his arm up a bit.
“Does that hurt?” I asked, studying his face to see if he was uncomfortable.
“In a good way,” he admitted submissively. “Pain feels good to me.”
Focused, my eyes narrowed. I hooked the rope around the headboard then repeated the knot on his left wrist. Giving it a tug, I made sure he was secure. “There, you can’t move your arms. Want me to do your feet?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“When you fuck me…I want my legs up over your shoulders.”
“Ahhh. Right.” A deep feeling, one which made me realize everything was in my hands, came over me. Overwhelmed and not sure of what to do next, I rested on top of him.
“Let me suck on you some more. Give it to me,” he begged.
The dormant sexuality I’d had up to that point had been euphorically awakened. Get ready! I shimmied my legs up to his neck and demanded as if I was a porn star, “Teabag me.”
I can’t believe I just said that.
Opening his lips wide, he got into it.
Like two golf balls, I dropped my nuts in his mouth. His eyes closed as he took one then the other. The friction keeping me hard, I stroked myself while he sucked. “That’s it. Feels…so…good.”
Arching my back, I withdrew myself as he moaned aloud with an erotic pleasure. Then I pressed the tip of my dick between his lips. From the determination in his eyes, I could tell my erection electrified him pleasurably. He took half the shaft down his throat. Then all of a sudden, I felt the urge to fuck his sweet little face. I pumped. Once. Twice. His sucking noises quickly turned to gag-like sounds.
“You okay?” I asked, pulling out.
“Sí, more. Give me more. Choke me with it.”
Slowly, carefully, inch-by-inch, I lowered the rest of myself down his throat. Ohhh, God, his warm mouth feels so…perfect. Getting comfortable, his body squirmed for a minute under me. Holding on to the headboard, I balanced myself and sank into the hot well of his warm mouth. Just when I figured he couldn’t take anymore, I pulled out.
Repeating this a few times, I enjoyed watching his brown, sexy, Enrique Iglesias-like eyes widen with surprise every time I plowed into his mouth. He was hungry for me. I was starved for him, too.
This teasing—his mouth, my cock, our erotic dance—I loved this.
I leaned down and kissed him. “This is so hot. You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”
Frickin’ A. Every hair on my body shot up as our tongues touched.
Sitting back, I scooted myself down and complimented. “That was amazing.”
“Now rim me,” he said as I pulled his legs over my shoulders.
I buried my face in his ass. I’d never rimmed a guy before. My tongue traced the edge of his crack while I milked his dick, slowly tugging on it with my hands. He tasted…warm…sweet.
It was the biggest, most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t know which was better: his tight asshole, or his fat dick.
“Mierda.” He cried out for me to top him as if he couldn’t take it anymore. “Por favor. Now!”
I reached over for a condom at the nightstand, sheathed my erection, poured a little bit of lube over the latex then rested the tip at the entry of his ass.
He gazed eager
ly up at me. “I love your eyes, Blake.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You ready?”
“Sí, sí.”
Oh. Yes. Slowly…Fuck. Yes. I…slid…inside.
Warm. Heaven.
The flesh of his ass separating, hugging my excitement and joy.
Oh. God. So tight.
“Feels…beuno,” he cried out. His hands were restrained by the rope. He tugged toward me, wanting more.
“You feel good, too,” I confirmed with a smile, peering down at him. Then it hit me. This. Us. What I was doing. “Now I see what you’re talking about. You’re under my body. Restrained. Me, buried in your ass. You’re helpless.”
“Do you like the power…this gives you?” he asked, hoisting his butt up a bit, clenching the rim of his asshole around my dick. Milking me.
“Yes, Diego,” I nearly growled his name and drilled deeper into him. Pumping, thrusting, dominating, I kissed him.
When our lips broke, he moaned, “Gracias.”
I guided myself into him even further, deeper. With a loud slapping noise, my nuts started smacking his butt. I continued to fuck his tight little hole. The warmth of his flesh blanketed around my dick was intoxicating. I felt a hysteria of delight swelling inside me. “That’s it. Take all of me.”
“Harder! Pound my ass.” The degree to which he reacted, with such excitement, stunned me. “Drill me good, guapo.”
“I’m going to rip your ass in two,” I spoke, getting into it, acting as if I’d done this before. I hadn’t. But it felt so natural, me in his bed, taking him the way I was.
I drew my hips back, then with every ounce of energy I had in me, I thrust my pelvis into him, as if I had some rhythmic soul of music oozing from my pores.
Roused to the peak of full on balls-to-the-wall desire—stars, bright and white, burst into the back of my eyes—I shouted, “I’m going to come.”
“That’s it. Come in my ass.”
Soared to an awesome, shuddering eroticism, I pumped once then twice.
“Don’t stop. Harder.” His eager response matched my own. I could go all night. He surrendered completely to me. “Feels…amazing…keep going.”