Page 43 of Praising Haru

“Yes, Sir. Anything you want, Sir. Can I—can I come?”

I widen my eyes. My thoughts fly apart. Does he need my permission? Maybe he does. Orgasm denial and control were things I read about half an hour ago. Is that the kind of power I want over a man? Over Haru? I lick my lips.

“Sir?” Haru pants.

“Come, gorgeous.”

His throaty groan tips me over the edge. I quiver and tremble as my balls empty, squirting cum all over my hand.

“Fuck. You made that so good, beautiful. So fucking good.”

“It was great for me too. Thank you, Sir.”

“What do you need to do now, baby?”

A few seconds later, he sends me a photo message. I switch apps so I can see it. My cock twitches at the sight of him. He’s holding the phone above his body and has managed to angle it so I can see his face and limp cock. My T-shirt is pushed up his body, revealing his toned, fawn stomach splattered with white cum. The picture is distorted, like a fisheye at the edges. He must have used the zoom-out function on his phone camera.

“Gorgeous.” What else can I say? “I wish I was with you. I’d clean you up and hold you.”

“I’d like that, Sir.”

“Wipe the cum off your stomach and pretend it’s me doing it.” I use a tissue to clean my hand and cock, while I imagine him doing the same.

“Done, Sir.”

“Tuck your cock away.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you need to go?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Would you like me to read to you?”

He sighs. “Yes, please.”

My legs wobble as I fetchNeuromancerfrom the shelf.

“I listened to some of it on the bus. I got to chapter six,” he says.

My stomach quivers. He’s not into science fiction, but he bought the audiobook and listened to more of it.

“Then that’s where I’ll start.”

My phone buzzes while I find the right page. Haru has sent me another picture. This time, it’s of him hugging a pillow with the caption ‘imagining it’s you’. My throat tightens as raw emotion ties my belly into knots. He’s adorable.

“I know you’re sitting comfortably. If you’re ready, I’ll begin,” I say.

“Um, that’s a reference to something ancient, isn’t it?”

I laugh. “So ancient that you recognised it. It was a misquote fromListen With Mother.”

“I think it must be part of the collective consciousness of the UK or something. I know you’re too young to have ever watched it.”

“Listened to it. It was a radio show from the fifties until the eighties.”

“How do you know that?”