No Reservations - Megan Hart [25]
She'd looked at him then, her smile a little sad but her eyes glinting with familiar desire. And what will you do when you think about me, Brandon?'
The game was familiar; his response not so much. 'Wishing you'd come home.'
Her smile faltered and her gaze had fallen to his lap. 'I'd rather have you fuck your fist and pretend it's me.' 'I can do that, too.'
She'd touched his cheek. Looked into his eyes. 'Then do it.'
Then she'd left the car, and here he was, prick in his palm just the way she'd said it. He pushed his hips upwards, feeling the bed sink beneath him. In another minute he was close, just from thinking of her smell and the way she felt around him when she came. Brandon slowed, stroking, eyes closed as pleasure mounted.
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