Colby leaned forward and peered down over Keats’s shoulder. The front of Keats’s boxers already had a wet spot. Even if Keats’s mind was still adjusting, his body was all for it. Colby pulled his hand away and went over to the chest of drawers on the side wall. He slid open the top drawer and selected a pair of leather cuffs along with a few other items. Keats would look amazing in rope, but Colby’s patience wasn’t at its best tonight.
He moved behind Keats again and drew his hands up behind his neck. When they were in the right position, he locked the cuffs around them. “Walk over to the closet door. Put your back to it.”
Colby stepped to the side and watched as Keats opened his eyes. Keats blinked a few times, looking a bit dazed, before locating the door. The sight of Keats already zoning out had Colby’s stomach coiling with need. Nothing was hotter than someone slipping into that submissive mental space, and knowing it was Keats’s first time gave Colby more possessive satisfaction than it should.
“Work your jeans off and kick them to the side. I’ll take care of the boxers.”
Keats’s gaze met his briefly, but he automatically lowered it and moved to get the jeans down and off. He really was a sight standing there bound and aroused as fuck. Colby unfastened his own jeans, room getting scarce in his as well. Keats’s eyes zeroed in on Colby’s hands.
He tipped his head toward Keats. “Tell me your thoughts right now. Unedited.”
Keats’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. “I was wondering if you keep your clothes on for everything. I’ve heard that’s a thing.”
“Sometimes,” he said, but started releasing the buttons on his shirt. “But I’ll let you look a little since you’re being such a good sub tonight.”
Colby let his shirt hang open but didn’t shrug it off his shoulders and walked toward Keats. Without giving him warning, he squatted down and yanked Keats’s boxers down and off. Keats let out a breath and closed his eyes again. His cock stood out proud, the head leaking fluid. Colby leaned forward and swiped his tongue over the tip, capturing the salty drops. The back of Keats’s head hit the closet door with a thump and a curse.
“Spread your feet hip width apart,” Colby commanded, staying in a squat and grabbing the spreader bar he’d gotten out of the drawer.
Keats complied and Colby locked Keats’s ankles into the device. He set the last item he needed to the right of Keats’s foot, then rolled onto the balls of his feet and stood. Keats’s biceps were trembling, but Colby knew that the position was putting no real strain on his arms. It was the quiver of a man on the edge, desperate for release.
Colby crossed his arms over his bared chest, his stance wide. “Now, Adam, you can get exactly what I know you want right now. It’s only going to take two simple steps.”
His throat worked before he spoke. “And what’s that?”
“Open your eyes and beg me.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The feel of the singular swipe Colby’s tongue had given his cock was still reverberating through Keats and everything inside him ached. Colby’s hands had touched him everywhere but not enough. Even his ass was clenching for something it had never wanted before. The slow, torturous massage Colby had used to tease his opening had nearly driven Keats to his knees.
But he knew what Colby was offering right now, and any pride Keats might have had before this moment had disintegrated in the first touch of Colby’s tongue. He opened his eyes and his gaze collided with Colby’s. The man looked like a savage in that moment. Shirt opened on that impossibly broad chest, curly dark hair peppering the way down to cut abs and a trail leading into the band of his open jeans. There was no underwear beneath, just tanned skin and his cock forming an intimidating outline against the dark denim.
Keats loved women, adored their softness, the sweet scent of them, their taste. He’d spent his adult life happily worshipping the fairer sex. But in this moment, he couldn’t think of anything more enticing than the raw masculinity of Colby. Keats craved those edges, the roughness he knew Colby could provide. So when he opened his mouth, he had no problem obeying Colby’s command and begging.
“Please, Colby. I need . . .” he said, his voice gritty with the desire coursing through him. “Whatever you want to do to me, I’m ready.”
“You want me to suck your cock, Adam?” he asked, his voice holding challenge.
A hard shudder went through Keats’s muscles, and he tightened his laced fingers behind his head. “God, yes.”
“Ask me, then. Nicely.”
“Please, Colby. Please suck me.”
Colby turned his ball cap backward, the switch transforming his look into some frat-boy version of himself, and stepped closer. He captured Keats’s chin in his hand. “Eyes on me, Adam. I don’t suck dick for just anyone. But when I do, I don’t take shortcuts. So watch and learn. There may be a pop quiz one day soon.”
Keats’s mouth was too dry to form words, so he nodded in Colby’s grip.
Then like some strange, erotic dream, Colby Wilkes, the teacher he’d fantasized about alone in his room in high school, the one who’d seemed larger than life, an impossibility, went down on his fucking knees and took Keats’s dick into his mouth.
Keats moaned as the hot, wet suction closed around his flesh. His eyes tried to roll back, but he refused to look away from that ball-cap-covered head. Keats knew Colby had told him to keep his eyes open so that he didn’t drift off and insert some woman in his mind’s eye to make himself feel better. But there was no shot of that. What was making the fire burn inside Keats was the very fact that this was Colby. The scandal of it all was almost enough to put him over the edge before Colby really even got started.
Colby worked him over slowly with his mouth and tongue, knowing exactly how much pressure to give and when. When he pulled back all the way to the tip, his tongue traced the slit, sending knee-weakening sensation up Keats’s nerve endings.
“Jesus,” Keats murmured.
Colby hummed his response, and the decadent vibration made Keats’s heels lift off the floor, the bar locked between his ankles preventing much more than that. Colby was taking his time, and Keats got the impression that Colby wasn’t doing this so much to give Keats pleasure as to gain his own enjoyment from the act. For some reason, that made Keats sink even more into the moment. He didn’t want to be Colby’s charity case. He didn’t want to be someone Colby was helping to find himself. Keats wanted Colby doing this because Colby wanted him for purely selfish reasons.