14. Dante

FOURTEEN

Dante

Tristan stalls when he sees it's me driving the Jag instead of Kenzie. There's no awareness in his face of how gorgeous he is, standing outside Lush in his black pants and black waistcoat over a white shirt. A splash of pink light catches his cheekbone, then it's gone because he's moving toward me.

I can already tell he's still wearing the thong. It's in his walk. When he opens the passenger door and gets in, it's in the way he sits.

He might not be aware of how gorgeous he is, but in that thong, he's very aware of himself as a sexual being. I think it's new for him, understanding that, and today I forced him to maintain that awareness all day instead of letting it emerge only while I'm fucking him.

"Are you angry?" I ask as I pull away from the curb.

"I don't know."

I can tell it's an honest answer, so I don't press him on it. Traffic is light at this time of night, so I'm able to watch him from the corner of my eye as I drive. The signs of his arousal are subtle. I think he's trying to hide it. But I notice his quickened breathing, the tension in his jaw and his body. By the time I park in the garage, he's looking out the window, away from me.

I pretend not to notice. I leave him alone completely until we're in the elevator. Then I step behind him. My arms go around him, one hand on his chest, the other on his semi-hard cock. He sucks in a breath at the contact. Then he makes a needful little sound when he feels the press of my erection against his ass.

I still don't say anything. I just stroke him through his pants. His cock stiffens against my hand. When the elevator doors open, I let him go. He still doesn't look at me, not even when we enter my penthouse.

I had Kenzie pick up Thai takeout earlier, but food will have to wait tonight. We have other things to deal with first.

I stop him in the entryway. I stand in front of him and start unbuttoning his waistcoat. He doesn't fight me, but he doesn't help either.

"Are you upset that I made you wear it all night, or are you upset that you liked it?"

His confused eyes jump to mine. "I don't know how to feel."

I push his waistcoat off his shoulders. "How many times did you get aroused tonight?"

He pulls his arms free. His eyes drop away. "A lot."

"Look at me." When his eyes come up again, I ask, "And what were you thinking about when it happened?"

"You."

"Doing what?"

"Fucking me."

"In the thong?"

He swallows hard. "Yes."

"And why does that bother you?"

"I told you I don't know!" His chest starts heaving. His fists clench.

"I think you do know."

"Oh fuck off!" He spins away from me and storms into the kitchen.

I follow, wondering if he's hunting for a knife. But he's more distressed than angry. He demands, "Why did you want me to wear this?"

"Why do you think?"

"Fuck, Dante! Just answer my fucking question! Please!"

"All right." I prowl toward him. He starts backing away, and I wonder if he even realizes what direction he's instinctively heading.

"I made you wear it so that you would be aware, all day, that you belong to me. So that while I was hunting for the separate space that you fucking insisted on—here it is, by the way—" I snatch the new apartment keys from my pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in a scramble against his chest. "—you would have to think, all that while, about what you looked like in front of that mirror, beautiful and hard and undeniably mine."

Tristan doesn't react to the keys, doesn't even look at them. His eyes are locked on me, like they should be, as he backs down the hallway.

"I made you wear them so you would think, all day, about how I was going to fuck you in them. Which is exactly what's going to happen now."

We've reached the play room. Tristan backs into it.

"Get out of those goddamn clothes," I tell him as I snatch the keys back, since he doesn't seem to know what to do with them. I drop them on the floor and shrug out of my leather jacket, which I also drop. I yank off my t-shirt.

Tristan starts unbuttoning his shirt. His hands are shaking. His chest is heaving. His cock is pressing against the front of his pants. I reach for his belt and unbuckle it. He shivers at that, but when I undo his pants, dragging my knuckles against his cock, his whole body convulses.

I grab him and pull him into me. Both my hands slide into his pants, one grabbing his ass, the other gripping his hard, hot dick through the thong. I hold him close and let him gasp against my throat. Both his hands are on my chest.

I whisper against him, "Why are you upset?"

His face tucks against me. It does something to me, pries at some closed-up place inside me. I almost draw back, but then he rocks into me, so fucking needy, and I stay with him.

I want to force him to answer my question, but I wouldn't get the truth, not yet. I need to break him open first.

I knead his ass and gently rub his cock through the lace. He breathes a sigh of relief against me. His fingers flex on my chest like he wants to touch more of me. I've noticed this before, that he's hesitant about that.

I back him toward the bed, tugging his pants down as I make him sit. "Lie back," I tell him. He complies, and I finish undressing him, except for the thong.

I stare down at him, admiring every bit of his body but especially his beautiful cock. It presses erotically against the red lace. I'm still shocked that I tongued his cock earlier. That's something I don't do. But now, I find myself bending over him, nuzzling at him through the red lace, rubbing my nose against his swollen balls and stiff dick. I breathe in his delicious, musky scent. I dab my tongue against the damp spot at his tip.

"Oh, shit," he mutters, pressing up against me. " Shit ."

I draw back, dragging my hands along his thighs. As I take off my shoes, Tristan lies there panting, but when he hears my zipper, his head lifts. When I shove down my pants and underwear, baring my hard cock, his lips part and he makes a soft, breathy sound.

I go to the cabinet for the lube, the beaded dildo, and a vibrator. I return to the foot of the bed and set everything down. Tristan lifts up onto his elbow and stares at all of it.

"What?" I ask. "Did you think I was just going to put my cock in you and be done with it?"

He looks at me. A little, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his lips.

"Come here," I say and pull him to his feet. I turn him around so he's facing the bed. I stand behind him, letting my cock lie along the cleft of his ass.

My arms reach around him and I pick up the beaded dildo and lube. As I get the toy ready for him, his hands come to rest lightly on my forearms. I want to kiss him. It's a bizarre fucking impulse, one I can't give in to. I gently bite his trap instead. His head falls back on my shoulder.

I'm frozen there for a while. Too long. What's happening? Today was supposed to be about showing Tristan that he belongs to me, but it feels like it got more complicated than that.

I draw back and bend him over the bed. His ass looks so perfect framed by the red straps. I tug at the one lying between his cheeks and press the tip of the dildo against his hole. He sucks in a breath as the black knob forces him open. I go slowly, one bead at a time, letting him enjoy each new sensation, letting myself enjoy his reactions and the little sounds he makes.

Tristan groans as the last, largest bead pops into him. It's about the dirtiest, most gorgeous thing I've ever seen: Tristan bent over in that red throng with a dildo in his ass. I moan at the sight. My dick twitches and pulses out a thick stream of precum.

"Climb up onto the bed," I tell him. My voice is gravelly.

He moans as he does it, as the dildo shifts and rubs inside him. He collapses onto his front, panting. I let him lie there and adjust. It gives me time to get the restraints ready.

"Roll over," I say. When he doesn't comply, I smack his ass. He cries out, body jerking. He lifts and turns, flopping onto his back. I grab one ankle and secure it so that his leg is lifted, his knee bent. He doesn't fight me. I think he's too far gone. I secure the other ankle. He's pulled up and open, fully exposed. My stomach clenches as I shudder at the sight of that dildo in his ass. But I have to focus.

I turn the vibrator on. It's a wand with a bulbous tip. I set it against the back of his left knee. His eyes fly open in shock. He didn't know that was an erogenous zone. I do the other knee. He's panting now. He starts to reach for his cock.

"Leave it," I say. "I'll get to that."

I run the vibrator along his inner thigh. His back arches. His hips lift. I start twisting the dildo in his ass and watch as his abdomen contracts.

I move the vibrator to his torso, gliding it from his lower belly to his nipples. I move my other hand to his cock and rub his shaft through the lace.

"Something about this made you anxious," I say. "Why?"

"I can't think," he gasps, his back arching.

"You don't need to think. Just answer. What was happening today?"

"I wanted you. It made me want you."

I drag the vibrator down his belly, stopping it above his cock. "And what's wrong with that?"

"I …"

"You what?" I demand as I set the vibrator against his cock.

"Need you!" he cries out, lifting up. "I need you— please !"

A shudder wracks my body so hard that I pitch into him. It's what I thought he'd say. It's what I wanted him to say. But still, somehow, I'm unprepared for it. Or unprepared, maybe, for my own reaction to it.

The problem is, it triggers my own need—because I need to be inside him. This instant, I need it.

I pull the dildo from his ass. He lies there, panting and jerking as I quickly lube my cock. His needy hole is fluttering when I set my cockhead against it. I press into him in a smooth, firm glide. I draw back and thrust into him again.

His stiff cock lifts hard against the stretchy red lace. His balls are swollen inside the cloth. Something about not quite being able to see him drives me wild, and I fuck him with hard, hungry thrusts until I can't think.

I'm so lost to it that I don't even see him pick up the vibrator. Sensation explodes as Tristan presses it against the joining of our bodies: his hole and taint, my lower belly and cock. I cry out. I bend over him, pinning the vibrator between us as I rut into him like a frenzied beast. I bite his throat. His whole body seizes as he screams through the first wave of his orgasm. Then he starts thrashing as I fuck him through mine.

I lose my sense of self. I lose control. My body isn't my own as it spasms and releases stream after stream of cum inside him. I'm making awful, straining sounds. I grab the vibrator and wrench it away. It falls to the floor as I keep straining against him. My mouth is open, my teeth raking his chest.

Fear spikes at my lack of control over my own body. I can't stop coming. Fuck. Oh, fuck, I can't stop. I just keep convulsing.

I almost wrench away from him, then his hands are on my head. He's stroking my hair. He's … soothing me. I should make him stop. I should pull away. But I don't. I bury my face against him and let him do it until the shudders fade away.