Page 101 of Twisted Little Game

As he slowly starts to pull out of me, the sheer feeling of that much of him sliding out of my ass still feels so fucking good, like one last stroke at the end of my orgasm.

He brings a hand up and undoes each knot on my wrists and I hum.

“God, I can finally fucking touch you,” I utter, immediately moving to wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him close.

He leans in to kiss me.

My fingers grapple all over his taut skin, and touching him is like a gift after so much deprivation. My cum is dripping all over his hand, my cock and stomach, my groin.

He takes one of my wrists in his hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the part that’s still red.

Then he does it to the other.

I run my fingertips over his lips a moment later, and it’s still such a novelty to be able to move my hands, to touch him, to feel his mouth press a kiss to my fingertips.

“Come rinse off with me,” he murmurs. “And then I want you in my bed.”

“How are we going to get through the downstairs area without the guys seeing me like this?”

He looks at me, his eyes half-lidded. “Covered in two loads of your own cum, baby?”

“Your fault.”

“Yes. I know.”

I hum, still feeling an intense, deep ache in my ass that I know I’m going to have for days. I love it. “Wow.”

“You can put your wet shirt on over all of the cum, but I’d rather see you just walk in like this,” he says. “If they see what we did, then fucking let them. You are my little work of art, blushing and marked up and glazed.”

I let out a frustrated groan, sitting up straight on the seat. “If I didn’t just come twice I would be so hard from you saying that.”

“You are always hard for me, sweet.”

I manage to tug on my pants and I don’t put on a shirt.

We walk into the house, and I’m ready for anyone to see me.

Maybe I want them to.

Preserve this fucking fantasy for as long as I can.

The hottest night of my entire goddamn life.

15

Roman

When Tate chooses, of his own volition, to walk into the house streaked with obvious cum, I know he is some sort of creature sent to Earth to give me pleasure.

I watch with a deep, burning pride in my chest as he strides through the front door with long, pink-red slashes down his chest.

Hickeys on his neck.

The ghosts of rope bindings on his wrists.

The cum is just the cherry on top.

It’s magnificent.