Page 31

Chapter 31

On the Edge

Parker

If I’d have known that almost losing Brandon would lead to being stripped, blindfolded, and tied to my bed, I’d have done it a hell of a lot earlier.

Brandon’s hands, bathed in massage oil, run firmly from my neck to my chest, circling my arms and hips, before gliding in and around my thighs. All whilst he whispers wickedly in my ear, and I strain in pleasure against the silky bonds wrapped around my wrists.

We’ve been going for over an hour. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life, and right now, I’m ready to blow.

“Not yet”, Brandon murmurs, when I share this with him. His grip slackens slightly, and I groan, arching my hips, forcing my dick between his hands. “Soon, Di Rossi. Demonstrate some patience”.

The orgasm that bubbles threateningly beneath the surface groans in anticipation. My stomach flutters. “I’m close”, I warn him, settling back.

I can hear the teasing in his tone. “How close?”

His response is a choked yelp, then suddenly nothing. He releases his grip and the sensation stops. I’m still rock hard. “What the fuck, man?” I gasp.

“What’s the matter?”

I growl in frustration. “You’re kind of leaving me hanging here”.

His grip resumes, warm and smooth, bringing my dick back to life. That’s more like it. I let out a low moan, as the muscles in my body start to relax. His free hand roams across my chest, grazing my nipples into full hardness. We’re starting to learn more about each other’s bodies, what we like, what we don’t.

What we really like.

“This feels…exceptional”. I breathe.

“Is that all?”

“Sensational”.

“Any words that don’t end with ‘tional?” I’m too worked up to laugh. The friction intensifies until my knees begin to shake, then just as I’m about to release, he pulls away.

“Carter”, I practically howl, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

His voice is suddenly in my ear. “So you’ve never done this before?”

“Had a frustrating sexual experience? No!”

“It’s called edging”.

“I know what edging is, Carter—it’s just I, oh, sweet Jesus”, I groan, as he retakes me in his mouth, working all around the tip with his tongue. “Brandon. I need to… oh, my God . I’m not fucking joking”.

His response is to keep going, holding my thighs tightly while my eyes roll back in my head. “Brandon. What do I have to do”, I gasp. “To get you to finish?”

“Oh, I have no trouble finishing, Di Rossi. I actually finished some time ago”.

“Wait, what?” I try and sit up before I remember that I can’t. “Are you jerking off?”

“How could I possibly do that when both hands are taking care of you?” His palms slide easily across my balls and send a shiver that starts off at my toes and ends in the stratosphere.

“Brandon, I’m begging you”.

“It doesn’t sound like that to me. Right now, your begging is a solid C+. Maybe you could try another ‘tional word and see if that sounds more convincing”.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this, Carter?”

The pressure changes abruptly and without warning, and suddenly I’m convulsing in pleasure. “Fuck, yes!” I gasp, as an orgasm rips through me like a hurricane.

The blindfold is removed. I’m in my bedroom. Candlelit shadows dance on the walls. Brandon’s lips find mine and I weakly reciprocate. My legs are still shaking. “If I untie you, do I at least get a head start before you kick my ass?”

I grin as he releases me, grabbing him and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist, instead lying comfortably across my chest. His hair is extra tousled this evening, and he grins lazily as I play with it.

Normally, when we fuck with each other—figuratively speaking—I make it my mission to have the last word, but tonight any joke just dies quietly on my lips. I feel comfortable. Satisfied. Safe. How about those for some non ‘tional words?

I adjust myself, propping the pillows behind me. “That was new. For me, at least”.

“Good-new?”

“Incredible-new. Want to do it again soon, new”.

“I’d ask if you enjoyed it, but the ceiling needs redecorating, so it feels like a yes”.

I burst out laughing, and he rolls off the bed. He kisses me on the lips, then the cheek, then hunts around looking for his clothes. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Getting back to my place before your boys get home”.

I open my mouth to protest, but he meets me with another kiss instead. God, he’s good at this. “It’s okay”, he assures me, “We’re not at sleepover stage yet. It’s fine. Genuinely”.

He slips out. I lie there, counting his footsteps lightly down the stairs. The soft click as the door opens and closes. Not bothering with clothes, I cross to the window.

He’s practically bouncing across the courtyard, and when I catch sight of my reflection through the glass, the grin on my face is so wide I barely recognise myself. This is more than like , I realise.

This might be love.