“You want a tour?” I ask, moving toward the wooden staircase at the back of the cabin.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he runs his fingers through his hair before shoving them in his jeans pockets and nodding. “Sure.”
I can sense his nervous energy. It riles up the beast inside.
Gesturing to the first door when we reach the top, I say, “Towels and spare linens.” Without losing pace, I open the door and step inside. “Master room.”
I watch as his eyes take in the space, widening as he scans the sexual pleasure apparatus placed beside the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. I had it set up for pleasure, but never found anyone I wanted to bring here. Until now.
“Is that a shower?” he asks, making me grin. Of all the things to ask about…
“It is.”
The entire back wall is a glass-sliding panel leading to a shower the full width of the room. I follow him as he surveys the outer wall also being made from glass looking out into the surrounding forest. I had it installed last summer. Something about seeing and being seen makes my cock throb. “You want to try it out?” I tease.
“So you can watch? Perv,” he scoffs.
“Scared it will make you gay?” I mock, chuckling when he narrows his eyes on me.
“Fuck you,” he spits, an ugly, defensive demeanor taking over.
Maybe it’s because we’re here in my space, or perhaps it’s the fact that I’m done with his fucking mouth being used to abuse instead of amuse me, but my hand snaps out, backhanding him across the cheek, my knuckle catching his lip. He rocks backward, falling against the wall and gasping in shock.
“You fucking hit me!”
I close in on him, drowning him in my height and weight. Grasping his jaw between my thumb and forefinger, I tip his gaze up to mine. “I’ve let that line pass your lips one too many times, and you seem to think it’s acceptable to say it but not do it,” I growl, leaning down to lick at the spot of blood blooming on his bottom lip.
He flinches at first, then relaxes beneath me. I take it a step further, finally giving in to the need to feel his lips on mine. I nip his fat, pouty lip while keeping eye contact.
An exhale shivers past his lips. I’m not sure if it’s panic or excitement, but I take it as the latter and swipe my tongue against the seal of his mouth, testing him. When it parts, I plow inside to caress his tongue. Peppermint and cigarettes attack my taste buds. Warm, wet flicks of his tongue drive me fucking crazy.
Come out of your shell, little boy. See what’s out here. Show me you’re a man.
The kiss is slow, exploring, as he traces the recesses of my mouth.
I offer persuasive encouragement, groaning with pleasure, dancing my tongue against his. It soon becomes hungry, our mouths dueling, caressing with urgency, ravishing each other. I pull back, breathless and ready to fuck him raw. His eyes are expressive and shine bright with lust. The furrow of his brow tells me he’s fighting with himself, wanting this, but scared to admit it to himself.
Keeping myself from being reckless with him, I trace the outline of his mouth with my fingertip. “Why are you so afraid to feel what you do?” I implore, desperate for all his secrets, his words, truths, confessions.
“I don’t know how to turn it off.”
“Turn what off?”
His bottom lip quivers, emotion consuming him. I grasp his face, stroking the pads of my thumbs over his cheeks, my eyes begging him to open up to me.
“The pain, fear, truth of what I think I may be,” he rushes out.
It’s painful to see him so troubled. Being this invested is new to me, and it’s dangerous because I’m going to love it even more when he finally accepts what he’s feeling—when I get to be inside him, mind, body and fucking soul. He’s got me all caught up in him, snared by his achingly defined beauty and tortured soul—the desperate need he has to be rescued. That’s what I fucking do.
He was meant for me.
And here I am, boy.
“You can be free here. It’s just you and me.” I touch my lips to his before pulling away. “Take a shower. It was a long drive,” I urge him, leaving the room so he can regain his composure.
I retrieve our bags from the truck, grab wood from a stack I left here last time to start a fire, and load the kitchen with the groceries before I even hear the shower blast from above. I snag our suitcases and head upstairs, dropping his in one of the spare rooms. He’s going to want space.
Going into my room, I find a pile of his discarded clothes left at the shower entrance.