Page 4 of The Intimacy of Control

He smirked at me, slowly climbing onto the bed. “Shirt off, Jack. It’s only fair.”

I spread my legs, letting him kneel between them. Looking up, I raised my arms above my head as I lay back. “Take it off if you want it off, Forrest. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“If I take it off, I’m ripping it off. Is that something you want?”

The idea alone sent a shiver running up my spine. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted him to do it. Take me. Do whatever selfish thing he wanted to do, as long as he was touching me. “Do it.”

He placed his hands on my hips, raising them up and under my shirt. His skin felt fucking electric on mine. His palms were so fucking warm, and his fingers were soft. So gentle for someone promising to wreck me. “It’ll be my pleasure. Hope you don’t like this shirt.”

It wouldn’t have mattered if I did.

Forrest pulled my shirt back down from where it’d ridden up, flattening it. I’d decided to wear a button-up to work today, and I was very fucking glad I had. He gripped the middle, pulling it apart hard and fast. Two buttons flew off, which obviously wasn’t enough. He kept going, kept pulling until either the buttons had ripped off or they’d undone themselves.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

I could hardly hear him with how insanely hot that’d been. I couldn’t focus. Not when he was running his hands back up my body, mapping every part of me. Not when his voice had gone as raspy and full of lust as it had. “Touch me, Forrest.” Was I begging? It sounded like it. Felt like it.

“I’ll get to that. Be patient.” He winked at me before leaning down and pressing his lips against my neck.

They were only kisses at first. Small, delicate pecks before he parted his lips and started to nip and rake his teeth along my skin. I tilted my head, giving him every part of me I could. I gave him control. I gave it to him, not even flinching when he started to suck. Was he… marking me?

Holy fucking shit, that was hotter than it should’ve been.

He trailed down to my collarbones, then kissed further down my chest. I was a panting mess, grinding my hips up against nothing, but doing it anyway. He stopped right below my sternum, flicking his gaze up at me. I watched as he smiled, just before sticking his tongue out, tasting my skin once more.

Right there, in the center of his tongue, was another silver barbell. He slid down, the tip of his tongue leaving a trail of spit above the waistband of my jeans.

He went for them, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly, but not quick enough. The way his muscles moved beneath his skin mesmerized me, each one more prominent than the last. How often did this guy work out?

I hissed through my teeth, moaning and letting my head fall back as he took my cock in his hand. My pants were somewhere on the floor, and I couldn’t even remember if his floor was carpet or hardwood. I hadn’t even had a moment to think, too caught up with Forrest’s sinful talent of making me forget.

He stroked me slowly, using his other hand to reach into his front pocket. The sound of the lube bottle’s cap opening had me biting my lip, anxiously waiting as he poured some onto my hole.

I shifted a little to make it easier for both of us. One of his lubed fingers circled my hole while he stroked me with his other one, the lube making it a much nicer glide. “Forrest, please.” Was I fucking whimpering? Oh, God. “I need it. Need you.”

“I know. I’ve got you, trust me.”

The first breach of his finger had me clutching the sheets on either side of me, immediately wanting to beg for more. More. More. The burn was what I loved—it was what I craved the most about mindless, emotionless sex like this. The stretching sensation was indescribable. It was perfect. It was everything I’d needed and more.

With the second finger, I was pulsing around him. Even my body was desperate for him, begging him in the only way it knew how. I needed him, and I needed him now. I needed the burn. I needed him to take complete control of my body and turn me into a fucking puddle of sex.

I reached down, barely brushing my fingertips against the hand that held my cock. “In me. Now. Please.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“You haven’t even seen me yet, baby. What if I’m fucking massive?”

“Even better,” I moaned. “I want it.”

He slowly pulled his fingers out of me, shuffling back until he was standing. He was putting on a show, grabbing a condom from his other pocket and laying it on the mattress before slowly unbuttoning his pants. My eyes were glued to his hands, watching the tendons flex and ripple as he pulled his pants and underwear down at the same time.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was going to be the death of me. He was clean-shaven, no hair in sight. He was big. He was long. And on the underside of his shaft were two silver barbells pierced straight through.

Yeah, I was a glutton for punishment.

He held himself in his hand, jerking slowly. “Still think you’re ready?”