Page 48 of Edged
I didn’t care about anything else they had to say. I turned off the screen, threw my phone onto the counter, and busied myself with drinks and snacks for Owen. He’d asked about my most expensive whiskey and if that was what he wanted, he could have it. I wanted none of it.
I poured myself a glass of red wine and drank half of it, hoping to wash the taste of canned cheese out of my mouth in case I got a chance to kiss Owen again. The combination was less than ideal, but I struggled through.
By the time Owen came out of the guest room, I’d done the best I could. But all sense of self and perseverance died when he stepped barefoot into my kitchen. With wet hair slicked away from his face and a white shirt that clung to him because he hadn’t quite finished drying himself off, he looked every inch the debauched dream he’d always been to me. Gray joggers hugged his legs, and for the first time since we’d gotten reacquainted, he looked almost nervous.
I pushed the snack board in his direction. “We can go get dinner later, if you want.”
“You don’t have to try to impress me,” he mumbled.
“Everyone has to eat, Owen.”
Producing a bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle from the cabinet beside my fridge, I set the thousand dollar whiskey next to his hand.
“And drink.”
He looked at the bottle and pursed his lips. Whether he knew the exact price or not, I wagered he knew it wasn’t a grocery store purchase. With a resigned breath, he twisted off the cap and poured two fingers into a glass and swallowed it back like it was a shot of well liquor. I bristled, but bit the inside of my cheek to stop from throwing a biting remark in his direction.
After he swallowed and licked his lips, he looked down at his hands, and I studied the arrow tattoo that spanned the length of his middle finger, wondering what it meant. Wanting to know if he’d ever tell me.
“Well.” Owen cleared his throat and turned his attention on me, an unmistakable fire in his eyes. “If you insist on taking me on a date, Archer, you at least better make it interesting.”
CHAPTER14
OWEN
An hour into our meal,I regretted my earlier taunt.
Archer looked utterly unaffected and I was ready to crawl out of my skin and hump his leg until I came all over his shoe.
“Are you quite all right, Owen?” He smirked at me over the rim of his drink, which was water, so basically a promise that my day was barely getting started.
The cock ring he’d fastened around my shaft and sac was tight, keeping my erection hard and my balls painfully full. But it was what I’d asked for, what webothwanted. That dangerous kind of tease and torment that got us harder than anything else ever would.
I didn’t know why I was built the way I was. Didn’t understand why teasing myself around the fringes of an orgasm made them that much sweeter when they finally came. I wondered if sometimes it was rooted in my youth, if I’d just spent so much time listening to Archer talk Mandy through it, then the first time he and I were together. Like, was it some kind of complicated programming I was stuck with?
As far as I could tell, it was a problem for Archer as well. Archer, with his drawer full of butt plugs, and cock rings, and chastity cages. I’d only ever seen those in porn before, not in real life. The hard metal looked heavy and cold, entirely too small to ever contain the throbbing shaft trying to beat a hole through my zipper. When I’d scanned the contents of his sex drawer from over his shoulder, Archer had assured me the cage had an entirely different purpose from the cock rings. One was to make sure I didn’t get hard, the other to make sure I stayed that way.
Two completely different kinds of torture, I imagined.
After he’d fitted the cock ring around my still sticky cock, he’d produced a plug no bigger than a finger, which he made quick work of shoving right up into my ass.
“That’s not going to do shit,” I’d warned him.
But when we sat down at the restaurant and it gave a sharp series of vibrations right against my prostate, I found myself once again proven wrong.
“Just distracted,” I answered, not ready to give him the satisfaction of knowing how close I was to crawling out of my skin.
“I can tell.” Archer grinned and leaned back—comfortably—in his chair. “You’ve hardly listened to a word I’ve said.”
“I’ve heard everything.”
“And you’re giving me one word answers when I ask you questions,” he said. “You’re the one who was spouting off about not knowing me earlier. I want to know what kind of man you are these days, Owen.”
“What do you want me to tell you?” I asked.
Two quick vibrations against my prostate and I grimaced, lifting my hips off the seat.
“I want to know why you’re here,” he said.
