Page 123 of Please Open Me
We wrestled his shirt off, and before I could process, he spun me, bending me over the counter.
The tipped bowl of dye clattered to the floor, but I barely noticed.
My palms slapped against the counter, and Cameron’s slammed on the mirror.
“Take a good look at yourself, baby boy.”
I reluctantly raised my eyes. He adjusted my glasses so I couldn’t avoid the reflection.
Piercings glinted. My hair was a slick mess of black and blue dye smudges staining my forehead and ears. I looked like a wreck.
The clean-cut golden boy my parents once praised was gone. In his place was a degenerate, desperately fucking his brother’s boyfriend in a bathroom.
And yet, staring at the reflection–Cam’s hands bruising my hips, dye streaking my skin–I didn’t feel shame. I felt alive. Like every mask I’d ever worn was finally breaking.
Cameron yanked my jeans down so hard the button snapped off, clattering to the tile. My knuckles blanched against the counter.
Cold air hit my skin for one second–then his palm cracked against my ass. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot, causing my cock to twitch.
“There’s my good boy,” he growled, rubbing the sting before striking again.
I gasped, trying to speak.
Another smack. Harder. A warning.
His hand slid around my waist, down my abs, until it wrapped around my cock. He teased the barbells, rolling the metal until I shuddered.
“You don’t get to quit on me. Not now. Not when I need my good boy.” His face buried in my neck, breath scorching. “I need you to chase out the bad thoughts. All I wanna think about is your tight ass and my cock buried in it.”
I nearly collapsed from his words alone.
His hand stroked with practiced control, keeping me on the edge. He worked the piercings like he’d put them there himself.
“Cam–” My voice cracked under the weight of need.
“Shut up,” he growled, teeth sinking into my shoulder until I yelped. His clothed cock ground against me.
“You’re mine right now, Sebastian. And if you’re not gonna call me Daddy, then keep that pretty mouth shut.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped, forehead pressed to the mirror, glass cold against my burning skin. “Fuck, I’m yours, Daddy.”
“That’s my baby boy.” His hand pumped me faster, rougher, while his words unraveled me. “The only thing in that big, beautiful brain of yours should be me, stretching you open and filling you, until everything else disappears.”
He shoved my boxers down to my knees, his hand tightening around me until I whimpered.
“Bend over, beautiful,” he ordered. When I hesitated, his palm clamped my neck and pressed me to the mirror, cheek against cold glass.
His other hand fumbled with his zipper. This wasn’t the tender, careful sex we usually shared when it was just us. This was desperate, brutal,raw.
Cameron spit into his hand, slicked himself, and shoved inside me in one rough thrust.
I cried out, clawing at the counter as pain ripped through me, fire licking every nerve.
“That’s it,” he groaned, hips slamming forward again, harder, deeper. “take me. Take every inch.”
The mirror rattled. The counter bit into my stomach. Each thrust was a delicious mix of punishment and release for every ugly thought clawing at me.
His hand wrapped my throat, hauling me back against his chest so I could feel his heart hammering against my spine.
