3. Dylan

CHAPTER 3

DYLAN

I was terrified, but my cock had never been harder. My legs managed to carry me after Alex, up the stairs to a room the definitely wasn’t a bedroom. Tate had told me about men like this, men who fucked for sport, but my brain hadn’t been able to grasp the meaning of it.

Alex was a man who fucked for sport and won trophies for it.

He had a whole room dedicated to sex. Instead of mounted animal heads on the walls, he had a giant wooden X in a corner, a leather covered bench that looked like it was meant to be used for fucking, an armoire tucked against a wall with the doors open and an array of paddles, sex toys, and God knew what else hidden in the drawers.

The money he gave me burned a hole in my pocket, and even though I was scared of taking off my clothes for him, I needed to be naked. The bills were heavy against my thigh, a reminder of how quickly my life had changed. He’d said earlier there wasn’t anything wrong with sex work, and he was right. But I hadn’t given myself time to wrap my head around the idea yet. I’d acted out of reflex, like a basic hierarchy of needs designed to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly.

“Green?” he asked, reaching into the armoire and pulling out a pair of black leather cuffs.

“Green.”

“Strip,” he said. “Fold your clothes and leave them in the corner.”

I flew out of my clothes, desperate to be free of the burden that came with his money, but I quickly learned that being naked was worse. The appraisal he’d given me in the bar was nothing compared to the way he studied me then, like he was cataloging every muscle and bone in my body. My cock loved the attention, swelling and jutting toward him like it wanted to be known as the best part of me.

Alex was still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare and his glasses on. He closed the space between us with the cuffs in hand. Without being told, I held my wrists out for him. He made a pleased sound when I presented myself to him like that, and then he made quick work of looping the unlined leather around my wrists and latching them closed.

“Green?” he asked again.

“Green.” I swallowed, blinking hard.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” he said, taking my face back into his hand the way he had on the couch. His touch was too soft, too tender. It didn’t align with any of the things we talked about—or any of the things I deserved.

“Is that a problem?” I asked. “It looks like this room is designed for tears.”

Alex cocked his head to the side, studying me again like he’d peel my skin off and sketch the sinew of my muscles if given the opportunity.

“It’s designed for pleasure, Dylan,” he said softly, tracing his finger along my wrist where skin met leather. “Sometimes that comes with pain and sometimes it comes with tears.”

“Green,” I rasped. “If I cry, don’t stop.”

“I’ll only stop if you say Juilliard,” he promised, letting go of my wrist. “Take off my clothes, Dylan. I’m ready.”

He was ready, but was I?

Thankfully, my body knew what to do, fingers working independently of my brain as they reached for the hem of his t-shirt. The material was thicker and softer than any t-shirt I’d ever owned, and I was from money. His bank account would have dwarfed mine on a good day, probably even bigger than my parents’. Alex was taller than me, and I fought to get the shirt off his arms and over his shoulders. He didn’t bend or angle himself down to make it easy for me, which frustrated me.

In that moment, he reminded me of all the men in my life I hated, but I wasn’t ever going to back down from the challenges they presented, and I wouldn’t back down from Alex’s either. Letting go of his shirt, I grabbed the bench and dragged it across the floor so I could use it as a step stool. The bottom piece gave me enough leverage to get his shirt over his head.

I muttered a curse under my breath and pushed the bench back to its original location. His pants were easier, even though he made me lift his feet from the ground to get them off all the way. His underwear followed next, the same brand as mine. I folded everything and without being told, set his pile beside mine. Turning back toward him, my stare dropped between his legs.

When I’d met him at the bar, I imagined Alex with a cock as long as his height would have implied, but it was shorter than I’d expected. Still a decent length, but the girth of his shaft was one of the thickest I’d ever seen. Definitely wider than anyone I’d ever fucked before. I hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and I was glad he didn’t care if I cried because there was no way I could take him without it.

“You good?” he asked.

“Green.”

“Get on the bench,” Alex said, “but on your back with your head hanging over the side.”

This was it.

There was no going back.

Carefully, I climbed onto the bench I’d used as a stool, sitting on it before arranging myself onto my back with my head over the edge. The top part of the bench was probably six inches across, enough to hold my spine steady and secure. The lower parts of the bench were at the right level for my feet, so I bent my legs and situated myself as comfortably as I could.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands, but Alex took that problem out of the equation by stretching them down to the floor and clipping them into O-rings at the bottom of the bench that I hadn’t noticed.

“Test it,” he said, voice lower and darker than it had been earlier.

I did as he’d told me, trying to move my arms. The clips around the cuffs rattled, and there was nowhere for me to go. Fear raced through me, and my cock twitched against my stomach. I was terrified, but my dick hadn’t gotten the message. It leaked against my abs, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

“Do you want me to bind your legs?” he asked.

I exhaled, sinking into the bench and trying to process the flurry of emotions the pose and the binding had brought up for me. I’d never been more in control, even though I was at his mercy. It was terrifying and powerful in the same breath. Adrenaline spiked through me, and I knew I could have broken free of his little clips if I had to, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to let him restrict me down to the silly little leather and wood bench and then do whatever he wanted. The money didn’t even matter—I just wanted to give my whole being up to him, even though I didn’t understand what that meant.

“I thought the dominant one made those decisions,” I managed to answer, my voice shaking.

Blood was already rushing to my head, making me feel drunk and high simultaneously. Alex walked around to the front of me and rested his palm against my throat, just like he had earlier against my cheek. The touch was the same, but decidedly different. He didn’t say a word, just pressed his palm against my Adam’s apple, then he went to the armoire.

On my back on the bench, I didn’t have a clear view of the whole room, but I heard him rustling around, and then he was back, yanking my feet roughly off their perch. My toes grazed the floor as he cuffed my ankles and bound them to the bench, just like he had done with my wrists. I was drawn apart and open for him, on display like something for sale, which…

I supposed I was.

“Green?” he asked me again.

“Green.”

He drew his fingers up my calf, around my knee and over my thigh. When he reached my stomach, he swirled his finger through the precum I’d leaked there. I couldn’t see him, but he groaned when he touched the wetness, and I worried I was going to come entirely untouched on the spot.

I’d never been hornier than I was on that bench in his sex room with his money burning a hole in my pocket, tucked away safely in the corner.

Alex worked his way up the rest of my body, coming to stand in front of my upside-down face. I could see his thighs and his heavy balls…he had his shaft in his hand… until he dropped it on my chin like a weight.

“What do you think happens now?” he asked, dragging his tip across my chin. He was wet too, smearing precum over my face with every swipe.

“I suck your cock,” I said.

“Good boy, Dylan.” He fed his cock into my mouth, growling as my lips sealed around his crown. “Fuck, that’s a good boy.”

Sucking Alex’s cock on a good day would have been hard, and that day was far from one of my best, but with my head upside down on the bench, it gave him a straight line to my throat. All I had to do was relax my jaw enough to get the thick middle of him past my teeth. He didn’t fuck my face like he was in a rush, though. Alex groaned low and deep as I swirled my tongue through the salty slit on the top of his dick, trying to will my jaw to open up for him. He settled his hand back on my throat, just a weight, not a pressure.

“Calm down, Dylan,” he whispered, stroking his hand down my throat. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

I hummed, closing my eyes and trying to focus on how much I enjoyed sucking his cock. And it wasn’t a lie. I loved sucking cock—I always had—and Alex’s thick shaft was no exception to the rule. I was just impatient and I wanted more of it. I also didn’t want him to feel like he’d wasted his money by bringing me home. Picking up a bartender with the right flags in his bio who couldn’t even get a dick in his mouth. How laughable. He pulled out of my mouth and stepped back, using his hand to smear my spit around the top inches of his shaft.

“You’re stressed out about this, Dylan, and that’s all wrong,” he said softly. “This is supposed to be foreplay before we get going, but if we have to spend all night getting my cock in your throat, that’s what we’ll do.”

“You’re massive,” I told him, like there was no way he didn’t already know.

He scoffed, pointing his dick at my forehead.

“Plenty of men have sucked me off before,” he said, before adding, “for free.”

“Your mistake, then.”

“Green, Dylan?”

“Green,” I bit out.

He stepped back up to the bench and lodged his cock into my mouth with much more force than he’d used on the first go around. He was in there alright, and it was hard to breathe, hard to focus, hard to do anything else besides be aware of his dick in my throat.

“See?” he said calmly, using his hips to get another inch of his shaft past my teeth. His shaft pressed against my tongue, the roof of my mouth, every possible surface. “That wasn’t hard, was it?”

Frustrated tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, racing around my eyebrows and over my forehead before dripping down into my hair. He pumped another inch into me, and I desperately tried to breathe through my nose, but it was hard to get a breath. Another inch and my nose was buried in his balls. He smelled like soap and sweat, and my own cock spasmed in response.

“There you go,” he said. “Keep your mouth just like that, Dylan.”

He cradled my head in both of his hands, pulling all the way out of my mouth. Spit trailed from my lips to his cock and before I could even draw in a full breath, he pushed his whole shaft back inside of my mouth. He stole my air, quieted my gags and my tears, even though both were still very much happening.

“Your mouth is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucked.” Alex grunted, angling himself deeper toward my throat. His balls made it impossible to breathe through my nose, the short hairs tickling my nostrils. “Now use that perfect tongue to get me off. I’m ready to let loose on you for real.”