40. Tate

CHAPTER 40

TATE

I took two days off work so we could stay in Italy longer, and thank God for that because Brooks didn’t take the handcuffs out of his bag until Monday after lunch. We’d just gotten back from a private wine and pasta tasting, and I felt like I was walking on air. Brooks needed to check on the status of the contract he’d been finalizing before we left the city and I needed to spend some alone time in the bathroom to make sure everything was in order.

By the time I finished up, I found Brooks’ cell phone on the nightstand and his clothes on the floor. He’d practically lived in one of the thick and plush hotel robes since our arrival, and I made a mental note to save up money to see if I could buy him one for Christmas or something. There was always going to be a disparity in our incomes, which would only broaden if I ever walked away from my job. Brooks would have never balked at me spending his own money on him, but I appreciated being able to contribute out of my own account.

After getting out of the shower, I slid my robe up my shoulders, but didn’t bother with the tie, instead letting the sides fall open. My damp feet slapped quietly against the tile floor as I made a loop of the villa trying to find Brooks. The past few days had been surreal, I thought, knowing that when we got back to the city my life was going to change again.

But the thought of going back to New York and having to go back to Dylan’s and my little shithole apartment in Chelsea was too much for me to bear. I already spent so much of my time at Brooks’ penthouse, it made sense for me to be there all the time.

Officially.

It helped knowing that the apartment would still be there. Not for me—I was confident in my future with the man I was looking for, but for Dylan. I didn’t think he’d be happy about living on his own after being with me for so many years, but I had to have faith we’d find a new middle ground for what things would look like moving forward.

“There you are,” I said, stepping out onto the patio from the living room of the villa.

There was a patio space that basically wrapped the entire back side of the villa, with the view from our bedroom being the highest and the living room the lowest. All the spaces were connected with uneven stairs down the hillside and one of the most beautiful views I’d ever seen in my life. Brooks stood on the far end of the patio, hands braced against the short stone railing. Even with his back to me, I recognized the cool metal glint of the handcuffs hanging off the tip of his finger.

He didn’t turn toward me, he simply lifted his hand and pushed the cuffs until one of them clicked through and fell open. It was as much of an order as any words would have been, and I padded toward him, shrugging out of my robe on the way. I easily settled my wrist into the waiting cradle of the cuff, which he quickly latched. With one of my wrists restrained, Brooks spun me, taking out the back of my knee in the same motion. He caught me before I fell, easing me down to the ground while looping the chain of the handcuffs around one of the railing supports and closing the other piece around my other wrist.

Flat on my ass on the warmed Italian stone patio, my first instinct was to test my restraints, which offered me less mobility than the positioning he’d put me in on the bed swing at the farm. He stepped back, rubbing absently at his chin while I struggled, smiling when I gave up and went still. My legs were bent at the knee, feet planted against the ground, my cock jutting straight toward the roofline.

“I was doing some rough math earlier,” he said, letting his hand drop into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out a bottle of lube and clutched it in his fist, gaze flickering down to my face. “There’s at least one hundred surfaces in my house I haven’t fucked you against yet, and at least four on the plane.”

“Plenty here,” I rasped, swallowing my nerves.

“Time is short, unfortunately.” He cocked his head to the side and pulled at his earlobe, lost in thought. “And I think it’s been awhile since you’ve cried out of desperation.”

“I cried last night,” I reminded him.

I’d cried and cried out, the rough fuck he’d given me in the shower enough to have me screaming down the walls. The way Brooks owned my body so wholly was a feat I’d never understand. It wasn’t even that he fucked me to the point of pain; it was that the pleasure had been too much to bear. The sharp sting of need vibrating out of every nerve in my body, his thick cock slamming into my prostate with every snap of his hips, the bite of his fingers pinching my nipples when I was on the edge. Everything with Brooks was a combination of sensations and feelings that rolled up into something far more than they’d ever be on their own.

And that was what had been missing from all the men I’d foolishly thought could fill his shoes. They were good at one thing or another, but none of them knew how to tie it all in. They didn’t understand how to assemble the thing they’d built. How to use it.

Use me.

“True,” Brooks murmured, loosening the knot on his robe and pouring some lube onto his hand.

His cock was already hard, poking at the material of the robe and dragging it to the side. With his free hand, he yanked a chair across the patio, the sound grating. He moved the chair into place, less than two feet away from me, and then he sat down. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was going to happen next.

“Please, don’t,” I begged, testing the handcuffs again, but short of shattering the stone column that dug into my back, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Brooks sat down and spread his legs, then slowly stroked his cock from root to tip. Throwing his head back with a low groan, he made me watch while he brought himself to the brink. He forced me to watch him fuck into the loose grip of his fist when the tight heat of my body was so close and more than ready for him.

“God, Tate.” He groaned, pointing his cock toward me so I could see the precum leaking from his slit. The handcuffs dug into my wrists and I was seconds away from growling at him out of frustration. “Look how hard I am.”

“I see it. ”

“You’re drooling for it so much I bet I’d drown if I put it in your mouth.” Brooks managed a smile, but it quickly fell away as he twisted his wrist around the thickest middle part of his shaft. “Bet I’d burn up if I put it in your ass.”

“Come over here and find out,” I pleaded.

Fighting at the handcuffs, I licked my lips and tried to lean toward him, smacking my mouth like if I made enough noise he’d take pity on me and let me suck him. We both knew that wasn’t the case, though. There was no amount of begging that was going to get me what I wanted.

“I’m so close,” he whispered, slowing his pace until he went still entirely. Tension rippled up the muscles in his stomach and he grabbed the chair with a grunt, hips bucking into the air chasing after a grip that he’d already abandoned.

“Please,” I whispered, lashes fluttering. I dropped my head against the stone railing and sighed, all of the blood and the heat and the need in my body currently centralized between my legs.

“Please what?”

“Please come closer.”

“I’m right here, darling.” Brooks stood, but instead of coming closer to me, he walked away.

I countered that with a very disgruntled sound that died down when I realized he was only going to the table beside the door. There was another bottle of wine there, two empty glasses waiting. He poured himself a drink and turned toward me, taking a swallow and waiting for me to settle down. There was no calming me, no settling down, and I let out a shaking breath when he started back toward me.

“Closer,” I begged again when he came to stop between my body and the chair. His cock was nearly eye level, a handful of inches too high for me to get my mouth around considering how limited my movement was.

“Can’t get much closer than this,” he teased.

Another swallow of the wine and his cock was back in his hand, this time close enough that I could smell the musky salt of his precum when he stroked himself back to full hardness.

“Brooks.”

“Tate,” he whispered my name back to me, raising the wine glass to his lips as a streak of cum geysered out of his cock and splattered my forehead.

I cried out, frustrated at the waste of his cum and the nonchalance of the orgasm. He stroked himself until his balls were empty, sticky strings of cum trailing down my eyelashes and my cheeks, then he collapsed back into the chair with a satisfied groan.

“I love you so much,” he said after another swallow of wine.

“Let me have a drink,” I pleaded, my left eye screwed shut so I didn’t get cum on my eyeball.

“Anything for you, darling.” Brooks went to his knees between my spread legs and tipped the glass to my lips, just like he’d done on the airplane. The wine was harder to drink, racing down my chin and splattering on my bare thighs. I imagined Brooks didn’t care if any of the wine made it into my mouth because he was too busy sliding his thighs beneath mine and shifting my ass off the ground. Wine dribbled down my lips as Brooks produced the bottle of lube from his pocket again, squirting it unceremoniously on his shaft.

“Is that enough?” he asked, meaning the wine.

“More,” I demanded, wanting not just a drink, but everything from him entirely .

He hummed a pleased sound, tipping the glass at a steeper angle. I parted my lips and let the wine run into my mouth, swallowing with desperate gasps. Between my legs, I recognized the familiar press of his cock and the sharp burn of penetration. The wine in my mouth cut off my moan, and I swallowed furiously, drink after drink of wine until the glass was empty. Brooks’ cock was all the way inside me by then, and my entire body wracked with a shiver when I took the last swallow of wine.

“More?” he repeated, setting the glass to the side and grabbing my waist with enough force to immediately bruise.

“More.” I nodded.

Brooks yanked me onto his lap, and the cuffs bit into my wrists, pulling my arms behind me as he fought my body forward. He let out a low and feral-sounding growl, stare focused on the place our bodies were joined. Taking my dick into his lube-slicked fist, he started to stroke me in time with the thrusts of his hips, bringing me to the edge of my orgasm over and over, backing off each time until I screamed out for him at the top of my lungs.

The outburst was unavoidable, and he clamped his hand down over my mouth and nose, his own lips twisted into a rueful smirk. He couldn’t keep me quiet, jerk me off, and fuck me at the same time, so with his cock buried in my ass, Brooks focused his attention on my breath and my erection.

“You have to quiet down, darling,” he said, pinching my nose and tightening his fist. “We don’t want the staff to come find you like this, with a cock up your ass and cum in your eye.”

My mouth gaped against his palm, fighting for a breath, even though I knew I wasn’t going to find one. That was the way things went between us, and I wanted it more than I wanted air. His fist was a slick vise on my cock and his dick up my ass pulsed in time with my own heart. My movement was limited and my ability to form rational thoughts even more so, but I fucked myself on his cock as much as I could manage. After a whole day of torturous build up and the prep time from my earlier shower, I was more than primed for Brooks and whatever he was willing to dole out to me.

The orgasm was expected and it was fierce.

His fist was like pins and needles around my cock, and my struggle for breath turned from a fight to a death rattle. It was less important to breathe when the only thing I wanted to do was come. In fact, I needed it. I knew I was safe in his hands, even though the pressure mounting in my balls felt positively explosive and insurmountable.

“Come on, Tate,” he coaxed, stroking me faster. “You’re right there. Just give it to me.”

I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes.

All I could feel was the weight of my balls, the pressure on my prostate, and then I could breathe. I didn’t even think about it, it was reflex, the way my eyes flew open and I gasped for breath. The handcuffs bit into my wrists as I sucked in breath after breath, so much air it made me choke, and when my orgasm finally found its way around, I did as we both knew I would.

I burst into tears.

Brooks bracketed my hips with his hands, letting my cock splatter cum across my stomach, and he fucked into me so rough it made my teeth rattle. Sobbing, tears cascaded down my face, taking his drying cum and cool wine with them. He came soon after, shooting streams of cum into my asshole, bending down and licking the mess he’d made of my face with a contented groan.

His tongue dragged over my eyebrow and eyelid, down to my nose, my cheek, my jaw. And then he was kissing me, shoving all of the mess back into my mouth. My body spasmed, working through the aftershocks of my orgasm, but it was impossible for me to fall against him. I was still bound to the railing, bent on display for his pleasure and his use. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hand over my mouth, and that sent another wave of tremors up my spine, another dribble of cum out of my cock.

At some point I realized Brooks was talking to me, whispering praise as he eased his still-hard cock out of my ass.

“It’s unbelievable that you’re mine,” he said sweetly, brushing my sweaty hair back from my face and depositing me back down on the ground. He sat down in front of me, back against the chair and chest heaving.

“My wrists hurt,” I finally managed to tell him, and it was half true. I could have endured the bite of metal into my wrist, but there was more… “I want to hold you.”

“Oh, darling.”

He pulled the key out of his robe and made quick work of detangling me from the stone pillar. I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, peppering kisses up his throat and chin until I reached his mouth.

“You’re always so good about giving me what I need,” I whispered, the orgasm still vibrating through my bones. “Can you draw us a bath now so I can return the favor?”

Brooks slipped his arms around my back, kissing the top of my head, my temple.

“With pleasure, Tate. With pleasure.”