Page 37 of Not Another Dark Romance

I groan. I seriously don’t need the temptation of seeing him jerk off in front of me again, especially after he was taunting me about how sex with him is no longer an option. But I need to stay strong and not give him even more ammunition to manipulate me. He can’t know how close I was to acting on all the thoughts I’ve been having about it. That the real reason I was so “grumpy,” as he put it last night, was because it was so difficult to face him after being consumed by sexual fantasies of him the entire time I’d been gone. I jerked off to thoughts of him in the brewery, for fuck’s sake.

“There is no reason for you to get off in front of me,” I mutter as I slowly pull out the ring of keys for all the locks down here. I don’t take my eyes off him as I carefully approach his outstretched hands. “I’ll take off the handcuffs though. Like you said, even if you can use your hands, that won’t help you ditch the collar or chain, so I guess that’s fine.”

“Fuck yeah! Thank you. Best captor ever!”

I roll my eyes and unlock his handcuffs. He immediately rubs his wrists. They’re a little red, as expected, but there’s no visible sign of injury from them.

“I’ll go put these cuffs upstairs and grab food. Then I’ll turn the book back on for a bit, but I need to work again tonight,” I warn him.

“I’m happy with whatever time you have,” he insists cheerily.

I put the handcuffs in my room so if anyone ever did find them, I’d have the perfectly normal kinky sex excuse for owning them. Once I’m back in the kitchen, I throw together a quick breakfast for Mason and me. I think I finally figured out what food he prefers, and I’m still feeling a bit guilty, so I make his favorite. When I bring it down, I’m surprised to see the canvas is still blank.

“I thought you wanted to paint?”

Instead of looking at his supplies, he’s lying on the blow-up mattress on top of the blanket with his newly freed hands resting on his chest as he rolls his head in my direction. “I’d rather hang out with you. I’ll save that for when you’re at work so I can pretend I’m going to work too.”

He’s so strange, but we’ve already established that, so I don’t comment on it.

I connect my phone to the speaker and press play on the audiobook where we left off while Mason sits up to eat his food. He hums in contentment as we listen, and when we’re both finished, I take his plate up to the kitchen.

Instead of trying to make every word out from upstairs, I say, “fuck it” and walk back down to sit on the bottom steps since there’s really no point in pretending I’m not invested in this book. Mason is lying on his mattress again, and I have to bite back a laugh as I shift uncomfortably on the hardwood stair and realize my prisoner looks way more comfortable than I am right now. His hands are resting absently on his lower abdomen where my T-shirt he’s wearing has ridden up, exposing his stomach. It takes me a long moment to realize I can’t pull my eyes away from his happy trail.

He must know that him telling me sex is no longer on the table now makes me want it more. Reverse psychology or whatever. The audiobook fades into the background as I rake my eyes over him and really consider what it’d be like to touch him. To grip his pink hair while he’s down on his knees for me, looking up at me with tear-streaked blue eyes, mouth stretched around my cock. I’m hard just thinking about it.

The book finally recaptures my attention as things unfold into another sex scene, and I force myself to tear my gaze away, looking at the blank canvas instead. I’m trying so hard not to picture Mason as the character running through the woods, delighted that the other man is chasing him, but it’s hard not to when that sounds exactly like something he’d suggest doing.

Fuck, why is the thought of chasing him so hot? Of him running away, panting, screaming even. It wouldn’t last long; I’m taller, more athletic, I’d catch him and pin him down easily, and then I could… shit. What the fuck am I thinking?

I can’t help it. I look back at him and realize his hands have shifted lower, and they’re teasing his waistband, slowly pushing it down. His eyes are closed now, so he can’t see me staring at him. I should probably scold him, reinforce what I said earlier about there being no need to do this in front of me, but it’s like I’ve completely forgotten how to speak as he pushes his pants down to his knees in one swift motion.

I audibly gulp as I realize he’s already rock hard. His swollen cock is straining toward his abdomen, and his fingers quickly wrap around his base, squeezing before shifting up to smear around the precum already collecting at the tip.

My dick is hard as granite now, and I can’t pretend like it’s not because of him. Honestly, I don’t really give a shit what that means about my sexuality. I’m obviously attracted to him.

He spits in his hand before moving it back to his dick, slowly stroking up and down his shaft before he suddenly speaks. “I feel you watching me. Do you like what you see, Zane?”

I startle, and my mouth falls open, nothing coming out, as he opens his eyes to stare right at me. I shake my head in denial, but his smile only grows.

“You can deny it all you’d like, but those sweatpants aren’t hiding a thing. Are you even wearing underwear? I can see the whole outline of your hard cock.”

“I don’t… I’m not…” I mumble because the truth is too much for me to admit to him right now when all I can focus on is him naked in front of me.

He thrusts his hips up into his fist and lets out an obnoxious moan. “Nothing is chaining you down here, Zane. Go ahead and leave if you hate it so much.” I quickly stand to do just that, embarrassed by how well he’s reading me. But then he continues talking. “Or you can stay. Even join in if you’d like. I’m still not convinced you’ve earned back the right to actually fuck me, but I think we could still jerk off in front of each other. Nothing wrong with that.”

Heat pools low in my gut at the idea, but I hate feeling like he somehow has all the power right now despite being the one chained up, so I try to stay strong in my denial as I respond. “Fuck you. I’m not jerking off with you.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, still smirking in that infuriating way. “Okay, so don’t get off ‘with me.’ I’ll be over here, and you can stay over there. Unless you want to ignore that massive erection, but that just looks painful.”

It really is. Fuck, I wish I could shove it in his mouth and get him to stop tempting me. But that’s not an option anymore, so I can’t. I feel like I’m frozen in place. I shouldn’t want any of this. I should run upstairs. I should put his handcuffs back on. I should just kill him right now and get it over with.

What I shouldn’t do is push my pants down until I’ve stepped out of them entirely. And yet here I am doing just that. My dick has officially taken control of my actions, and all rational thought is out the window. I might enjoy the idea of dominating him and being the one with the control, but right now, my cock is aching, and getting off while looking at Mason’s half-naked body is simply something I’m not strong enough to walk away from.

I spit in my hand just like he did and stroke my erection quickly. I’m not trying to draw this out or show off. I need to come, and I need it now.

I’m very aware of Mason’s gaze locked on my hand as I pump myself hard and fast. I can’t seem to look away from the way he’s working his dick at a much slower pace. The breathy little moans he’s letting out only drive me closer and closer to the edge of my release.

The audiobook is still playing, but I can’t hear a thing. I’m completely consumed by the pink-haired man wearing my collar, who’s staring at my cock like it’s his favorite treat, and he’d do anything to earn it.