Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

H olden's entire frame quivered, each muscle fiber singing a chorus of release as he succumbed to the waves of pleasure crashing over him. His breath hitched, ragged gasps filling the room while his mind floated in a hazy sea of ecstasy. Across from him, Angela leaned in, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of professional satisfaction and scientific curiosity that pierced through his very soul.

"Wow," Angela murmured, lips curved in a half-smile as she observed every tremor that coursed through Holden's body. "You orgasm beautifully."

Holden blinked a few times. His lips stretching into a smile as he huffed a laugh in between remnants of spasmodic groans. He hadn't come like that in… years. It hadn't been performative. It had been… real.

All because a woman he respected had innocently touched him.

As the pulsing pleasure began to ebb, Holden found himself anchored by Angela's gaze, her presence grounding him. He'd come hard, but it wasn't for show, wasn't for an audience or a camera lens—it was raw, unadulterated, a true expression of his own desire and satisfaction. For once, Holden felt seen not as an object of fantasy but as a man reveling in his own skin.

And he was still spasming.

He looked down at the ring still vibrating around his erect cock.

"Oh, I should probably take that off, huh?" said Angela.

She reached down to the device, but her fingers hit flesh first. Just the slight touch brought another wave of spasms into the base of his spine. He warred with brushing her hand aside, even though that was what was bringing him the real pleasure. Thankfully, that first orgasm had mostly emptied his balls. There was only a dribble of ejaculation that wept from his throbbing dick.

"Sorry," said Angela.

Holden peeled his eyes open to stare at her. His hand had caught hers. Somehow their fingers had entwined.

In that singular, electric moment, Holden felt something shift within him. He'd had countless sexual partners in his career. But in this job at Knotty or Nice, it felt different. They were partners in more ways than one, connected by a shared quest for authenticity in a world that too often favored the facade over true connection.

Holden lay there, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, the aftermath of pure ecstasy still quivering through his muscles. He was no stranger to being watched. Eyes always seemed to follow him, tracing the lines and curves of his body as it moved for the camera. Yet Angela's gaze was different—intent and inquisitive, dissecting not just his form but the essence of his pleasure.

She gave a yank of her hand. At first, Holden held tight. But he had to let go, and he did so. Reluctantly.

"Tell me," Angela began, her voice both soft and commanding, "how did the pressure feel? The constriction—was it too much, just right?"

He propped himself up on his elbows, the cooling air of the room a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from his core. "It was like... a symphony, you know?" Holden said, his tone earnest. "Every touch amplified, every sensation crescendoing."

Angela scribbled something into her notebook, lips pursed in thought. He could almost hear the whirring of her mind as her pen danced across the page. "Was there a point where the pleasure turned into discomfort?"

"Discomfort?" Holden mused with a smirk. "Angela, it was edging on paradise."

Edging was the perfect word for what the cock ring would do for a man. He could've stayed on that pleasurable edge for long moments, maybe even an hour. It was only her voice and her touch that had brought him over the top.

She smiled at that, a flash of pride mingling with her persistent curiosity. "And emotionally? How are you feeling now?"

"Emotionally?" He paused, considering the question seriously for a moment. "Liberated, maybe. It's like I'm used to playing a part, giving the audience what they want. But this..." His hand gestured between them to the ring still on his dick "...this was for me. No act. Just raw and real."

"Good." She nodded, jotting down more notes before meeting his gaze again. Her eyes held a spark, the kind that heralded storms and revolutions. "Because there's so much more to explore, Holden. So many more questions I have that only you can answer."

The prospect of diving deeper into this exploration with Angela ignited something within Holden—a flame of excitement, a yearning to surrender himself to the work she was undertaking. He wanted to be her test subject, her confidant, her partner in this sensual quest.

"Then let's find those answers together," he declared, his voice thick with a promise that extended beyond the confines of research.

Angela's fingers, delicate yet assured, reached out and carefully unhinged the cock ring that had held him in a vise of ecstasy. She moved with an artist’s touch—gentle, soothing, a balm to his sensitized skin.

"Better?" Angela whispered, her voice a silken thread winding through the thick air of their intimacy.

Not really. He was still hard. The ring had given him release, but he was still on edge.

"I'm going to need to take care of this before I can get back into my pants."

"Oh, right." She turned away as though she was going to give him privacy. Then she slowly turned back. There was a spark in her eyes. It was in the shape of a question she wanted to ask. She chewed at her bottom lip instead of asking.

"What do you need?" Holden asked.