Page 16 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Walker wobbles when I suddenly step away, leaving him leaning after me.

He bites his lip, chest heaving, but nods when I look back at him expectantly.

He untucks his shirt and starts to unbutton it.

As he reveals himself, he is everything I got a tease of when I first saw the softness around his deep hip grooves and that peek of a well-muscled physique to balance it like a superior statue to anything by Michaelangelo.

At least in my eyes. And Walker is for my eyes only now.

Only ever for me.

My possessiveness makes me hungry despite how contentedly full I am from our meal.

I bring our glasses to the table to pour from our current bottle in the bucket of ice.

As I pour, Walker steps out of his shoes, drops his trousers, peels off his socks, and I find myself very pleased that he chooses to lower his underwear before shrugging his open shirt from his shoulders.

The brief moment he is in nothing but the button-down is lovely.

But the next moment, when he is naked while I am fully clothed is even lovelier. His cock bobs a little hello to me when I hand him back his glass. We clink, sip, and Walker eventually loses our staring match with a bashful glance down.

“Exquisite,” I tell him and tilt his chin back up. I keep my finger there, keep his eyes on me, as I sip again from my wine, but this time, I hold it in my mouth. Then I lower to my knees.

Walker gasps and grabs the back of my head as soon as I swallow him. The chill of the wine in my cheeks offers a unique sensation. It’s just as pleasant as tea or hot chocolate in winter, but I have done this for very few lovers. It takes the idea of drinking them down very literally.

When the chill of the wine wanes, I swallow it, tasting Walker mixed with its buttery sweetness. I take another drink to repeat the process, fellating him slowly but deeply down my throat, with the wine ever-present before I again and again swallow to start over.

His fingers in my hair twist ever so slightly, and he hums. “It’s just like I imagined…”

Really? I like knowing he imagined this and pull off with a slow circling of my tongue around his head. “Is that so, doctor?”

Walker looks down at me. Every golden part of him is breathtaking from this angle, especially under the fairy lights. I was brilliant for including them. “Maybe not the wine part,” he snickers, “but that is a really awesome trick. Four dates were too long to wait for this though.”

“Oh? Do you need a lesson in patience?” I flick my tongue over his slit.

He shudders and takes a sip from his wine before handing me his glass like he’s afraid he’ll drop it. “Maybe. Don’t you want me to do things for you?”

“Oh yes. You will.” I am ready to move on as well and rise to my feet to set both glasses on the coffee table. “You are going to repay the favor of that trick with the chilled wine.”

“Okay…” He steps over to me like he means to drop to his knees that moment, but I keep his attention with a wave of his tie still wrapped around my fingers.

“First, there is something I have been wanting to do since I first saw you wear one of these.” I playfully run the tie between my fingers and stretch it taut. When I reach out with it to tie it around his eyes, however, he flinches. Not the reaction I was hoping for.

“Sorry! I-I just… I-I-I can be a little…” He trails off, clearly frustrated by his stuttering.

“Afraid of the dark?” I offer.

Walker’s laugh is exactly the reaction I want, and it helps him to catch his breath and slow down.

“I can be weird with claustrophobia sometimes, not always because of tight spaces, but feeling enclosed or trapped. I don’t want to feel like that with you though, so…

can we try? And if it’s too much, I’ll say so. ”

I gauge his body language to be certain he isn’t only suggesting this for my sake. This is for him too. “Only if you promise you will say so.”

He nods, visibly relaxing further.

I blindfold him as planned, and though he tenses slightly, he keeps his breathing even and waits like the good boy he is for what to do next.

I take a pillow from the sofa and drop it between us and then lower him onto it.

His knees are bare, after all, and it’s only polite.

I undo my belt, and after hearing the telling clink of the buckle, Walker licks his lips.

“Now... open up, my good boy, and take what I give you.”

His plush lips are so very pretty when they part.

I feed him the wine first, careful when pressing the glass to his lips and tip it back slowly.

I can see how he holds it in his cheeks and opens his mouth again, waiting for more.

I don’t make him wait long. I feed him my cock slowly, letting him savor its hardening length, the bit of precome already at its tip, and the way it swells when his lips close around it.

If he was still feeling frightened by the dark, he has forgotten it now. He sucks me right down, so keyed up, I can feel his built-up saliva mixing with the wine, making the wet slide easy as he bobs. I love the chill and the muted heat from his mouth beyond it.

Walker’s hands twitch up but hover, unsure if I want the assist or for him to only use his mouth. I debate for a moment, and then say, “Go ahead. You can use your hands.”

He feels his way to my base, one hand closing around it to squeeze, the other cupping my sac. He swallows that first gulp of wine finally and smacks his lips like he wants more.

“Another drink, doctor?” I ask with a newfound husk to my voice.

Walker tongues my tip before nodding.

I give it to him, another mouthful that he holds in his cheeks, and the renewed chill of the wine meeting my hot flesh makes me shiver. Walker sucks and sucks, working me with his fingers too. When he swallows the next time, a dribble leaks from the corner of his mouth.

I swipe it with my thumb, comb through his hair with my other hand, and while he continues to swallow me down with the wine, I smear the mix of Chardonnay, spittle, and precome up his scar.

Then I hold him still, pull out from between his lips, and bend to lick the scar like earlier, tasting him and me mixed together in the tannins.

Walker’s now reddened lips remain parted and shiny so near to me. It’s a beautiful look on him, and I kiss his lips again too.

He groans from far more than a mere kiss. I glance down to see him squeezing some of the pressure from his own cock.

“Ah, ah,” I warn, a bit breathless but still steady. “Only I get to touch you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he answers more huskily than me.

“Good boy. Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

“Yes.”

I know he means it. “It can be nice sometimes, can't it?” I comb my fingers through his hair again. “Freeing… to not have to think but to simply do as told and know you will be taken care of? At least when you trust the one giving the orders. Do you trust me, doctor?”

Walker seems to truly contemplate the question, perhaps thinking over all the reasons he was hesitant tonight and showed up early. In the end, he licks his lips and nods. “I trust you.”

He means that too. How fascinating.

And I am so, so glad that he does.

“On your feet,” I order. “It’s time to take this into the bedroom.”

I help him up, since his legs are shaky with the need for release. I need to release too, but I can wait. I step out of my pants and underwear and kick off my shoes. I’ll retrieve them later. I want to lick up every inch of Walker with my tongue still coated in wine.

I think I will.

I grab the glass I had been feeding him from off the coffee table and start to lead him by the hand, but not before taking a good long look at the view of him from the back.

This is the first time I am seeing his tattoo since my little peek through his ex’s window.

The Rod of Asclepius, as I imagined it was, starts right where Walker’s spine would normally be hidden by a shirt collar and goes all the way down to between his hips, practically to his tail bone.

The outline of his spinal cord is all electric blue like the glimpse I saw that day, the rod and snake winding around it done in expertly shaded black and gray.

It's like an X-ray of himself, an exposed nerve that says the backbone of all he is, is his chosen profession.

Just like me.

“Um… are you going to keep me blindfolded the whole time?” Walker asks as we move into the bedroom.

“Do you need me to remove it?”

“No. I’m fine. Really. Just curious.”

“Eager to see me, are you?”

“Yeah. I don’t even know if you’re… cut or shaved or sporting a Prince Albert.”

I laugh. “You know all those things,” I remind him, given he just had me in his mouth, and the answers were unequivocally yes, yes, and no thank you.

“Not with my eyes ,” Walker argues.

His petulant smirk is adorable. Wonderful. Perfect. “Don’t worry. I won’t deny you sight for too much longer. But sensory seclusion can intensify other sensations.”

“I know. So, um, what do you want me to do now?”

“To start…” I help him to feel that we have reached the bed and urge him to climb onto it. This suite really is quite nice for the price, and the bedroom is my favorite, richly colored, spacious, tastefully decorated. But the best part is finally having Walker here to adorn my sheets.

He obeys with minimal assistance needed to get centered, on his hands and knees facing the headboard.

Although it's less of a headboard and more a padded section of wall behind the bed that goes all the way to the ceiling. It’s bright red, and the padding means it is perfect for what I have planned for our finale.

And also, why I wanted to do this here despite having killed Wayfair here earlier.

A worthwhile risk. The extra hour and a half that Walker deprived me of would have ensured Wayfair’s disposal, if a little hurried, but I’ll get to him later.

“You can lay your face on the pillow, but stay on your knees, legs spread, ass up.”