Page 32 of One More Time
But before I can undo my pants, the door handle turns and Alec is suddenly inside the small space with me.
I stare up at him, my entire body thrumming with…need.
“Oh fuck,” I murmur as I fumble to grab the key. I try and hide it, but it’s too late. He saw it. His eyes darken even more as he crowds me, pushing me up against the wall and making the breath I was holding stutter out of me in low, needy pants.
“Hm. What’s that, Jude?” he asks lowly.
I swallow, my throat clicking. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. It’s a key.”
His hand trails down my neck, across my chest, and right to my groin. He shouldn’t be touching me like this. This is so fucking rude.
But I don’t tell him to stop. Instead, my hips arch toward him as his hand cups my balls, the hardness of the cage evident through the fabric of my jeans.
“Mm. Yes, I thought so,” he grunts, and then his free hand wrestles the key from my palm. I give in far too easily. Don’t even put up a fight. I basically just hand it to him. “And no, you don’t get to take this off. Not now. Not until later.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already shoving the key into his pocket.
“Give me your phone.”
I shake my head, determined to put up a fight. “Give me the key first.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth and then moves toward me once more, reaching into my back pocket and pulling my phone from my pants. Him being so close, the scent of him, and the feel of his strong body pressed against mine make me melt. And within seconds, his own phone is chiming and he bites his bottom lip as he slips the phone back in my pocket.
“Take a picture of your dick and send it to me. I want to see how pretty it is all locked up. And when you’re done babysitting, text me. I’ll come by and show you what you can do with a chastity cage.”
I swallow again and shake my head. “No. No more of this.No more.”
His eyes darken, and he smiles softly at me. “Yes. More. One more time, Jude. One more.”
And then he’s gone.
The next few hours are pure hell. Anticipation and excitement for what is to come bubble up within me. As well as dread. I feel so much dread.
Dread because I don’t really want this. Can wearing cock cages be a hobby? It has to be a hobby, right? Taking dick pics with it on is definitely one. It’s artistic. I’m an artist now. Really got the lighting and angles down pat.
God, I’m a fucking mess. It doesn’t help that Killian shoots me death glares the rest of the evening, huddling close to Alec, even kissing his neck at one point. Not that Alec pays much attention to him. But I notice that Alec rubs his hand across Killian’s arm, over his stomach, and one time, even affectionately touches his cheek.
“Fuck him,” I mutter when I’m alone in my bedroom. My dick aches, my balls so fucking full that they feel ready to burst. They need to be emptied.
I don’t want to be used. Has Alec mademea hobby? I don’t want to be someone’s hobby. Do I?
Fuck, I don’t know. Is this how it feels to be on the receiving end of me?
If so, maybe it isn’t so nice. I know that Simon hated it when Wesley called kissing him a hobby. Maybe the guys whose dicks I’ve sucked hate it too.
Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I deserve all of it.
“I’m not going to fucking message him,” I murmur, but the thought of living with this cock cage on for the rest of my life convinces me that, no, I need to text him and get him to give me the key.
I need this off of me.
I need togetoff.
With shaking fingers, I type out a message telling him I’m home and then fall back onto the bed, worrying my bottom lip.
What will he do to me when he gets here?