Chapter 10

As he followed Ethan, a spark ignited inside Hunter. The air crackled with anticipation as they walked past the stairs toward the Dungeon and halted at the locker rooms.

"Wait here." Without a backward glance, Ethan disappeared into the rooms.

Hunter leaned against the wall. His heart drummed wild in his chest, and his cock, full of desire, seemed to have a heartbeat of its own.

Moments later, Ethan appeared holding his toy bag and ordered, "Follow me."

As he trailed after the detective Dom, they walked deeper into the corridor.

Halting at a nondescript door on their left, Ethan turned. "Ready?"

Hunter swallowed hard before answering, "Yes, Sir."

A charismatic and seductive smile was his reward.

Hunter loved that the Dom's eyes weren't covered with the sunglasses, and he could see the sunlines beside them. Inhaling through his nose, he took in Ethan's scent—intoxicatingly woodsy and masculine.

"Good boy," Ethan praised. His tone was warm, but now turned stern. "When I open the door, you go inside and take two turns of the room. Take in the equipment and try to imagine what I will use and what I'm gonna do to you." He leaned in and claimed Hunter's mouth in a passionate kiss. Their lips fused, and their tongues danced a delicate dance of desire until Hunter was weak-kneed.

With a playful nip to his bottom lip, Ethan broke the kiss and swung open the door.

Hunter stepped inside like he'd wandered into a Hell's Angels clubhouse in his ECO cut. His sleeveless leather jacket, a staple in biker culture, allowed for easy movement and bore the patches that told the biker's story.

The room was dominated by the biggest, baddest bed he'd ever seen. Not only was it huge, but it was also clearly designed with BDSM in mind. The four posters sported several rings, the headboard and footboard too. Aside from the four posters there were two crossbars on the side of the footboard creating a St. Andrew's cross. Below the bed was something that looked like a cage.

I so don't want to go inside there.

Tearing his gaze away from the bed, Hunter took in the rest of the room, spotting a loveseat and a sturdy spanking bench. Remembering Ethan's order, he walked around and took everything in. In one corner was a shower big enough to fit at least two guys his size, and he could picture Ethan and him in there together. Soaping each other's bodies, their hands exploring, tracing paths of desire across each other's skin. He would like to service his Master that way, washing his body, cleaning hard muscle and taut skin.

Ethan cleared his throat and Hunter turned his head. A gaze almost black with desire met his, and Hunter wondered if the detective Dom had sensed his thought processes. Ethan held up two fingers.

Oh, right! Two rounds.

"Please forgive me, Sir."

Ethan inclined his head, and Hunter continued his second round.

This second time, he became more aware of how his body reacted to the room and the possibilities. His cock, already rock-hard since Ethan came prowling through the crowd, seemed to be lengthening even more; his small, flat nipples were hard and aching. With each step the hard peaks grazed the fabric of his shirt. His body hummed with excitement, and his breathing was ragged by the time he finished in front of Ethan. Like he'd run a marathon instead of circling about three-hundred square feet.

"Have you checked the room?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Any reservations or fears? Remember, this is a private room and there is no dungeon monitor here," Ethan warned.

Hunter considered his words. "There's no monitoring here?"

"Staff will roam the hallways and check the room at intervals but there's no constant supervision like in the Dungeon." Ethan stroked down Hunter's arm, took his hand, and played with his fingers as he continued, "We take security seriously but also privacy. It's a bit of challenge to balance them both, but I'm happy to say haven't had any major incidents to date."

Hunter nodded. "That's good to hear. And no reservations whatsoever."

Ethan used Hunter's arm as a leash to pull him closer and cupped his crotch with the other hand. Gliding his hand up and down over the stiff bulge, he squeezed and massaged the ridged flesh.

Hunter moaned, and his legs trembled. If he wasn't careful, he would embarrass himself by coming in his pants. After moments of torturous pleasure, Ethan's hands gripped the hem of Hunter's shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

Skimming his gaze over the revealed flesh, Ethan's hands fell to Hunter's waist and tackled his fly. The tight-fitting denim caught on Hunter's erection before Ethan shoved the material down Hunters legs, trapping his feet with the jeans.

"May… erm… can… can I touch you, Sir?"

"You may take of my shirt and jacket, but not my pants."

Hunter licked his lips. Almost reverently, he raised his arms and brushed Ethan's jacket from his shoulders. Beneath his hands, the body was hard and soft at the same time and deviously warm. With glee, he unbuttoned Ethan's dress shirt, revealing tantalizing patches of smooth, inked skin. As the fabric fell away, Hunter almost swallowed his tongue. Ethan's body was a work of art, both in the metaphysical and the literal sense. Ripped in all the right places and perfectly sculpted for pleasure, the man's skin had been a canvas for an amazingly skilled artist. Hunter wanted to explore each tattoo with his eyes, fingers, and tongue. He wanted to discover them all and learn the meaning behind them.

However, before he could act on his desire and indulge himself, Ethan grabbed both of his hands, brought them behind his back, and began to push him toward the bed with slow but determined steps. Hindered by his jeans, Hunter scuffled back clumsily until his back hit the cross. Despite the discomfort, Hunter delighted in the assertive attitude.

It was a total relief to hand over the reins to someone as strong and capable as Ethan. The fact that the man looked like a wet dream was just a bonus—albeit a pleasant one.

Goosebumps rose on Hunter's flesh, sending tingles over his entire body as he lost himself in the rhythm of their embrace. Like the last time, Ethan buckled black leather cuffs around Hunter's wrists and secured his arms above his head. There was something intoxicating about the helplessness. Being in a private room gave a dangerous edge to their play. Hunter loved every aspect of it.

Ethan leaned in. His lips traced a path down Hunter's jaw and neck, across his collarbone and over his chest, gently teasing his nipples with his tongue. Hunter's breath caught in his throat, and his body arched toward the pleasure of Ethan's touch as much as the bindings allowed him.

"Nuh-uh," Ethan admonished. "You take what you get, not what you want." He spanked Hunter's crotch.

Jesus!

Pain lashed through his groin and up his spine like a lightning bolt.

Hunter moaned and Ethan laughed. "Liked that, huh, boy?"

To Hunter's sheer surprise, Ethan slapped his cock several times, each hit a little bit harder than the last one.

"Fuucckk!" he roared.

"That's it." Ethan pinched Hunter's nipples with a punishing grip. "Let me hear you."

"Yes, Sir!" Hunter shouted like he was some damn army recruit.

Almost an hour later, Ethan staggered under the weight of Hunter's body as he released the submissive from his binds and helped him onto the mattrass. Hunter slowly blinked as Ethan held a bottle of Gatorade to his mouth.

Grinning, Ethan urged, "Drink, subbie."

Hunter blinked again, before obeying.

Ethan settled beside him on the bed, as he helped support his weight and made sure the man rehydrated.

"You've been such a good boy for me. Just perfect." Ethan pressed Hunter's head against his shoulder as he whispered words of praise, letting the man come back from subspace.

Inside his pants, Ethan's cock lay heavy against his belly, but the fucker had to be patient for a little while longer before Ethan could whip it out. Hunter needed to have his wits about him for what was coming next.

Feeding Hunter a square of dark chocolate, Ethan watched as his movements became less sluggish and his eyes became more alert. The gorgeous hazel pools were now an almost evergreen tint with barely any hints of brown and grey. Ethan found it fascinating how they kept changing and seemed to reflect Hunter's every mood.

"Sir?"

Ethan's lips quirked. "Back with me?"

"I think so." Hunter's forehead creased.

"How do you feel?"

"Amazing." Slightly turning, Hunter trailed his lips across Ethan's chest, leaving a path of fire in their wake. It was the most forward and brazen he'd ever been, and Ethan's head fell back against the headboard as he enjoyed the sensations.

Placing a hand on Hunter's head, Ethan urged him to go lower, as he used his other hand to release his fly and push his pants below his hips. Despite the awkward fumbling, their bodies moved in perfect harmony until Hunter's face was in his crotch and licked like a savage over his cock and nuts.

Mindlessly, Ethan lifted and lowered his buttocks from the mattrass in an age-old rhythm, as Hunter explored his body. Gripping Hunter's hips, it took a bit of maneuvering and urging, but finally Hunter straddled his face, and he could suck and lick him, while the man mirrored his every move.

Gradually, their groans and moans mingled and filled the room, as their movements became bolder and they sucked hard, using hands to massage and squeeze to add to the pleasure.

Heat raced up Ethan's spine with a telling tingle and beneath his hands Hunter's balls drew up. They were both ready.

Ethan lifted his head. "Swallow it all, subbie," he ordered before engulfing Hunter's dick with his mouth and sucking for all he was worth. He pumped his hips once, twice and his cock exploded with mind-numbing pleasure while he sucked Hunter's cock dry with forceful pulls from his mouth.