Page 43 of Drake
“I’m really looking forward to investigating your pain levels. If we were at my place, I could get some of my toys out. Especially my clamps and floggers.”
“Fuck! Why aren’t we there?” I laugh but continue to kick out of my trousers.
“Tomorrow,” he promises. “For now, it will have to be my hand. Kneel on the floor and lean over the seat.”
He’s smacked my arse a few times but not as a specific act, more when he’s been in me. We’ve been at it like rabbits since Sunday. “Yes, sir.”
I get into position while he walks into the bedroom—I’m guessing for the lube. When he walks back into the room, I’m as he told me to be, my knees parted and my arse up, ready and willing. “Damn, you look good like that.” He drops something on the floor in front of my knees.
He strokes his hands over both globes, kissing each cheek before parting them. I feel his lips on my hole, just as heplaces another soft kiss and licks over the puckered skin. “Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. He’s going to be the death of me.
“Twelve on each cheek, and I want you to count,” he says as he straightens up.
I turn my face to the side to answer. “Yes, Sir.”
I always love the anticipation before the first strike, finding it highly erotic, the intake of breath, the smooth hand caressing my skin has me holding my breath, eager and waiting.
However much you prepare, the first one always comes as a surprise. It’s hard and rings out in the quiet room, breaking the silence, ready for more of my cries. “One,” I say as he strokes his hand over the centre of my left cheek.
There’s no pattern, no set pace, but he’s really good at it, and my skin is singing—I expect it is reddening— and the nerve endings pulse. I’m panting hard when I cry out twenty, and Finn pauses, not for the first time, to check in.
“You good? Colour?”
“I’m good and green.” I smile at him, even though I know my face is red, my hair sticking to my forehead with sweat.
“Good boy, you look beautiful with my handprints all over your arse. Four more.”
I wait for them, but instead, a lube coated finger probes my hole. I don’t hold back my groan as he taps my prostate once, then withdraws. The last four are fast and the hardest; the final crack of his hand on my skin brings tears to my eyes, but the bliss that runs through my body makes it worth it.
Finn wastes no time coating his cock and pushing inside me. His earlier load still present eases him smoothly to the hilt. “You can come whenever you want,” he says, sounding like he’s gritting his teeth.
I know it won’t take me long, and as I lift up onto my hands, I can see it was a towel he dropped on the floor. Finn’s hands grip the battered skin as he plunges deeper and deeper,his breathing already heavy. It’s going to be a race to finish, but I’m sure it will be me first. I’ve learnt that he wants to see me come before he does. I grab my dick, the head slick with my precum aiding the glide of my fist as I stroke.
“I’m there, babe. So close,” Finn says. I work harder, and a second later, I’m crying out, my cum shooting down onto the towel. Then the heat of Finn’s cum floods my insides as he grunts and thrusts the last few pulses inside me. With his hands on my waist, he pulls me back so he’s sitting on the floor. His softening cock slides out, leaving me empty and wanting more again. I twist to face him, straddling his legs.
“That was incredible. How sore is your hand?” I lift his right hand and turn it to see his palm, still bright red, but not too bad. “You’ll have to use a paddle next time.” I press a kiss in the centre.
“Noted,” he laughs and kisses me. “Can I stay?”
“Of course. I’m up early tomorrow; Knox wants me to call in at the gym. So, as long as you don’t mind that.”
“Works for me. I’ve got a meeting with Memphis at nine.”
“Shower?”
The gym is empty, quiet in a way I’m not used to. The room smells of cleaning products, the floors are clean and swept, the mirrors smudge free, the paper towel dispensers full as are the spray bottles of disinfectant for members to wipe down the machines after use. The weight section is tidy, with everything in the right place. I forget how much work goes into the running of this place, especially when the doors open in fifteen minutes at six-thirty.
I remember when Knox first came here after he’d been placed with our dads. He looked around in wonder. It was likehe was meant to be here. I don’t know what it was; I’ve never thought to ask before now. His arrival was a difficult one for him. Us, too, but mainly him. It wasn’t long after I moved in, but the circumstances were very different. I remember being afraid of him for a while. Now, I know he’s one of the best men out there.
Knox pokes his head out of his office door when I shout out his name. “Don’t you ever have a bed to stay in, bro?” I call out when I see him.
“Not one that pays me to be in it,” he quips quickly. I know Dad pays him very well to run this place and trusts him completely.
“What did you want to see me about? It sounded kinda urgent,” I ask as I follow him back to his office.
He paces around the room, running his hands over his buzz cut head. “I’m not sure if I should be doing this or even if you can, just that something came up, and I need to get some more background or information before I can make a decision.”
I look him up and down and notice that my seemingly unflappable brother is bothered by whatever this is. “Are you in trouble?” Is my first question. He shakes his head, and a little relief run through me. “Is it about money?”
