7. Chapter 7

I'm not doing a very good job of keeping myself distracted. Kipp has been gone all evening, and I know what he's trying to accomplish. After getting home from work, he got dressed in a pair of pants that should be illegal considering what they showed off, added a tight white shirt that displayed his gorgeous body far too well, and then sauntered out the door with a cheeky, "See ya later, honey."

I nearly cracked a molar.

It's my own damn fault. I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like what my husband is out doing.

Damn it, this whole situation is messed up.

I'm just about to admit defeat and force myself into bed when Kipp bursts through the front door in a cloud of chaotic energy and frustration. My pulse skips as he shoves the door shut and comes to a stop, holding up his hand.

"I was wearing my ring," he huffs.

"What?" I ask, twisting from my spot on the couch to see him better.

He waves his hand, gold band flashing. "My ring, Teddy." The man storms over, falling onto the couch and rolling to his back, his head near my hip, shoes still on his feet. "I tried to pull at the club, but the guy saw my ring and freaked. I told him you gave me permission, but he said hell no and that he didn't want any part in my weird cuckolding marriage. What the fuck?"

I press my lips together, fighting a laugh despite this predicament being less than amusing. I can't say I'm disappointed Kipp struck out, but I do feel bad, considering how downtrodden the poor guy is.

I sift my fingers through his hair.

"You want to know the other fucked up thing?" Kipp asks.

"Tell me."

"I can't get it off."

Now that definitely shouldn't make me happy.

"I tried in the bathroom at the club," he goes on. "And it's stuck. See?" He proceeds to tug at the band to no avail before his hands flop onto the couch. "I'm going to die of neglected dick because I'm in a sexless marriage and can't even lie about it by taking off my damn ring." A beat of silence passes before he adds, "I can honestly say I never thought that sentence would come out of my mouth."

"Did you wash your hands before you left the club?" I ask.

He tilts his head back to look at me, brows pulling together. "Yeah. I came home right after the bathroom fiasco. Why?"

I grab Kipp's hand. His mouth falls open when I suck his ring finger between my lips, getting it good and wet before I try to wiggle the band over his knuckle with my teeth. He swallows heavily, body twisting slightly so he can watch me.

I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't seem to help myself. Can't deny Kipp at least some measure of comfort, even though I'm well aware this goes beyond comforting. But most of all, I can't stop myself from wanting him.

I knew the moment I first met Kipp that he and I were kindred spirits in opposing forms. Call it intuition. Call it a hunter's instinct. Whatever the reason, I could sense the side of him that so desperately longed to let go. That little rabbit heart, beating fast, waiting to surrender. And God, how I want to be the one he'd show his belly to.

But I can't. Can't ask that of him. Can't demand it.

The thing that really gets me is that I don't think he knows it. As far as I can tell, Kipp has no clue he has a submissive streak a mile wide, and that fact, more than anything, makes it nearly impossible for me to resist this man who's currently looking up at me with wonder in his eyes.

The things I could show him.

It takes maybe half a minute before the ring slides over Kipp's knuckle. I pull his finger from my mouth and set the gold band gently onto the coffee table. Kipp's chest rises and falls, his pupils nearly blown as he stares up at me, waiting. Seeing what I'll do.

"There," I say softly. "You're all set."

"Um, thanks," he mutters, expression shifting to confusion. "So, uh, you really want me to get laid, huh?"

He chuckles, a nervous sound, and I internally curse, frustrated with this situation, the question I can't truthfully answer, and the fact that I want Kipp to be mine, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.

"I just didn't want you to hurt your finger getting it off," I say, brushing his hair off his forehead. It's not exactly a lie.

Kipp's voice halts me as I stand. "Teddy."

I close my eyes for a long second before turning. Kipp sits up, looking so lost that it tugs at me again.

"What's going on here?" he asks.

My heart thumps, a near painful thing.

"You said something that night," he goes on. "Before we got married, I remember you saying you wanted to own me. What does that mean?"

"Kipp…"

"I always felt like you were ignoring me," he says, driving a nice little knife between my ribs. "If we ran into each other, you were perfectly nice, but it's like you went out of your way to avoid me. Until Friday night. Why?"

Because I couldn't stand watching you pick another man that wasn't me.

I scrub over my eyes.

"Do you want me?" Kipp asks quietly.

Fuck.

"Doesn't matter," I answer. "We're not having sex, Kipp."

He makes a frustrated sound. "Then why do you keep flirting with me and, like, giving me finger blowjobs? I don't get it."

I heave out a breath. "You're right. That's not fair of me to do, and I'll stop."

"No," he says quickly, blue eyes flaring wide. "I don't want you to stop. I just… I don't understand, Teddy. And I'm not trying to push you past your boundaries. I won't do that. But you keep saying ‘we're not,' not ‘I don't want to' when it comes to us fucking. And I don't really know how to take that."

When I don't speak, unable to come up with a suitable response, Kipp's face scrunches.

"Sometimes it seems like you want me," he says quietly, looking so vulnerable it physically hurts. "But sometimes…" He shakes his head. "If you don't, it's fine. Just say so. I'd rather know, okay? Then I can stop making a fool of myself chasing after someone who clearly has no interest—"

"That's not it," I interject, unable to let him believe for a single second I think him foolish or undesirable. My throat is tight, voice hoarse when I speak, but I can't help it. "Kipp, if I have you, I won't be able to stop."

Silence falls.

"I don't have a problem with that," he says, his voice nearly a whisper.

My hands clench at my sides. "You don't understand what you're asking of me."

"I'm not asking for commitment, Teddy. You might be my husband, but I don't need a boyfriend. I just need…"

He doesn't finish his thought, but he doesn't have to. He just needs someone to take care of him, whether or not he realizes it.

I watch Kipp look down at his lap as my head wars with my heart. He's not asking for a romantic partnership, maybe because he doesn't think he deserves one. But for me, I'm not sure I'm capable of keeping feelings out of the equation. I already care for this man. If he puts himself in my hands, will I ever be able to let go?

"If we do this," I say slowly, "it's on my terms."

His head snaps up.

"You'll come to me," I say, hardly able to believe the words coming out of my mouth. "You won't pick up guys at the club or the bar. There won't be other men. Not while we're together."

He nods quickly, cheeks flushed.

"And when we get a divorce, that'll be it. No more fucking around."

"Yeah, okay," he says immediately, pulse feathering visibly in his neck. "Whatever you want."

Jesus. This man. Does he even realize how perfect he is?

"Lie back," I tell him hoarsely, feeling that cage around myself crack wide open.

"What?" he asks. When I raise a brow, he moves quickly, spilling onto his back on top of the couch. His feet hang off the end, and he quickly kicks off his shoes.

I watch him for a moment, my pulse coursing hot and heavy through my veins, like liquid fire. His chest rises and falls as he waits, trying his best to be patient. His twitching fingers give him away. He's so goddamn beautiful. The dark hair over fair skin, the bright blue eyes, the height and breadth of him. He's solid, not small, but to me, he's precious. And I'm going to treat him as such.

"Teddy…"

"Here's how this is going to go," I say, stalking forward. Kipp's breath stutters when I climb over his legs, settling with my knees on either side of his body. I tug his obscenely tight pants open and drag them far enough down to have full, unfettered access to his dick. It bounces up proudly as soon as it's free, flushed pink like its owner's cheeks. I wrap my hand around the base of it before meeting Kipp's gaze. "You're going to lie there and be good for me. And then you can come."

"Oh, fuck," he breathes, eyes rolling up as I stroke him once. "Teddy, fuck."

I stop the motion of my hand when Kipp moves with me, hiking up his hips. "What did I say?"

"What?" he asks, blue gaze pinging between me and his cock.

"What did I tell you to do?" I repeat.

He wets his lips, stilling. "Uh…lie here?"

"And?"

His tongue runs along his lips again, his words coming slower this time. "Be good for you?"

The heat in my chest boils over. "That's right," I say, giving him another slow stroke. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah, fuck. Anything you want."

Good answer.

He groans when I stroke him again. I increase the pressure, my hand milking his cock, but when his hips chase the motion, I stop. His head falls back, and I go again, stroking, watching his eyes shutter, tracking the pulse in his neck. He stays still until my thumb rolls over his crown, and then he's thrusting up again.

"Fuck," he says when I pull away. "Teddy."

I ease up over his body, our chests not quite touching, our faces close. I turn his chin to the side, and he doesn't fight it, but his breathing picks up.

"Do you want me to continue?" I ask, lips near his ear.

"Yes," he hisses out, groaning when I snag his earlobe between my teeth.

"Yes what?"

Five seconds pass. "Yes, please?"

"So polite," I say, dragging my tongue over the pulse point at his neck before I sit back, my weight on his thighs. Kipp's gaze meets mine when I let his chin go. I grab his cock, stroking with one hand as I roll my palm over his crown. The muscles in his abdomen quiver, evidence of his battle to keep still. He manages a pretty decent job of it, too, fighting off his impulses for a good minute or two. But as soon as I tighten my grip with the intention of getting him off, he chases the pressure. I release him.

"Fuuuck," he says, covering his face with his hands.

"You can do this, sweetheart," I say gently, giving him a slow stroke. "Just let me take care of you."

His eyes meet mine again, uncertainty there but also a steely sort of determination. Kipp is a pleaser; it's something I've noticed in his interactions. He's charming and forthcoming, and I'd bet my life savings that he often leads his sexual encounters as a way to make sure his partners are getting what they want. Yet now, I'm asking him to hand that power off to me. He wants to—craves it—I can tell. But he's scared.

He doesn't need to be.

"Let me be the one to take care of you," I repeat.

His swallow is heavy, but he lays his arms above his head, his own attempt to release control, at least physically. That's good. The mental will follow if he allows it. His hands flex a few times before he closes his eyes, letting out a breath.

My chest swells with pride.

"There you go," I say softly. "Beautiful."

His mouth opens, a sigh leaving his lips. I pick up my pace again, stroking him, spitting on his cock—once, twice—before jerking him harder. He moans, thrusting up, and I stop, waiting a beat as he settles. I start again, my fist gliding smoothly over his flesh. His breathy little moans have my heart trying to claw its way out of my throat, but I lock myself down tight, sliding my free hand under Kipp's shirt, finding his nipple and flicking it with my thumb. His back bows, hips moving. I stop.

"Fuck," he groans, a blush over his cheeks and neck. "Teddy, please."

"What's your job?" I ask.

"Lie here," he says around a panting breath, "and be good."

"That's right," I reply, easing my hand out of his shirt and running my fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch. "You don't have to think, Kipp. You don't have to do. Trust me to get you there."

He nods, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. "Okay."

I lean forward again, turning Kipp's face so I can bring my lips to his jaw. I feather kisses along the sensitive curve of his neck as I resume stroking him, slowly at first, and then a little faster. His breathing picks up, pulse skittering against my lips.

"Look at you," I breathe into his skin, wanting to imprint my words there. "You're gorgeous, Kipling."

He stutters out a breath, chest brushing mine before it falls. I can feel the exact moment he truly lets go. When his body melts and he gives himself over. His neck muscles relax, his head sinks against the cushions, and every line in his body goes from tensed to lax, like a marionette that's had its strings cut. It's a beautiful thing, and I mutter my praise against his skin as I jack him off in earnest.

He lets out a few quiet sounds, his body starting to tremble beneath me. There's, "Oh, oh," and then, "Teddy." I stroke him quickly, and when Kipp's cock starts to swell in my fist, the man himself remaining at my mercy, I press my lips near his ear.

"Good boy. You can come now."

The sound he lets out is surprised, tortured, and he spills between our bodies in an instant. His moans float into my ears like the sweetest melody, and I close my eyes, tucking my face against his neck as I work him through his release, my entire being singing in tune to this man who has me wrapped around his pinkie finger, whether or not he knows it.

I thought I could keep my distance. I thought, maybe, we wouldn't end up here.

I thought wrong.

As Kipp's moans change in pitch, I gentle my ministrations, holding his cock in a loose grip. I squeeze once before letting go.

"Fuck," he mutters between panting breaths.

I ease back, watching Kipp's face, registering the still hazy expression in his gaze. He's not questioning it. Yet. But it will come.

"Here," I say, using the hem of my shirt to give him a perfunctory wipe. I grab his next, rolling it carefully upwards to keep his cum contained. Kipp lets me, watching with blissful blue eyes as I tug the garment over his head and off his arms. I do the same with my own. "Stay here a second?"

He nods, a lazy motion, and I get up, standing beside the couch for just a beat—making sure he's okay—before I head swiftly down the hall. I drop both of our shirts in my hamper and grab a cloth from the bathroom.

Kipp hasn't moved an inch when I return, and I use the damp cloth to clean his cock. "Thanks," he mumbles, finally starting to stir.

I offer my hand, which he accepts with a soft chuckle.

"Take it slow," I tell him.

"I'm fine," he replies, running his fingers through his hair as he sits upright. "I, um…" He seems to shake himself loose. "Here, let me return the favor."

"I'm good," I assure him before he can reach for me.

His forehead creases with his frown. "You don't want me to?"

"You were perfect, Kipp," I tell him honestly. "That was everything I wanted."

He still looks unsure, but I hold out my hand again.

"Come on," I encourage. "Let's get to bed."

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

We make our way down the hall, both of us brushing our teeth before we change. Kipp looks a little nervous as he climbs under the sheets, like maybe his mind is just now kicking into overdrive, so I climb in quickly after, tugging him close to me and maneuvering him onto his side. Chest to his back, I wrap my arm around him.

His huff sounds like a laugh. "Are we cuddle buddies now?"

"I like to cuddle after sex. Is that okay?"

He lets out a tiny hum, but I don't miss the way he relaxes. "Yeah, I suppose that's fine. I mean, we are married. A little cuddling between husbands is no big deal."

"Exactly," I say, pressing a kiss to his neck. "Glad you see it my way. Sleep well, Kipp."

"Night, Teddy."

The last thing I remember is Kipp's arm curling gently over my own.