Page 91 of Naughty November

“I won’t use pens on your face, hands, or neck. Do you wear a long-sleeved shirt?”

“I don’t dress that formally. I could wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. Or a jumper. It is November.”

“Isn’t your office heated?”

“Eh, I’m practically an Australian now. No one will bat an eyelid at me if I wrap up warmer than everyone else.”

“Is there anywhere else I should avoid?”

He shakes his head.

I glance pointedly at his groin. “Sure?”

“Yes. My body is yours, De—” He stutters to a halt. “Do you have a Dom name? Am I supposed to call you ‘Sir’?”

I brush my lips over his before turning the barely there motion into a proper, deep kiss full of need and longing. “Only if you want to. Your body is mine?”

“Yes.”

I pick up the red pen and write ‘MINE’ along his collarbone. He shivers and whimpers as the pen dances across his skin.

“It tingles,” he whispers. “Buzzes.”

“Is it nice?”

“Yes. It’s always nice when it’s you.”

A few seconds later, pale red blooms around the letters, slowly becoming darker and brighter. I wait a few minutes to see if welts form, too. They do, although they’re not as pronounced as the times I’ve drawn my nail across his skin.

I write ‘beautiful’ across his chest, which is how I’ve always seen him. Even before I knew I wanted him to be more than a friend. I take my time forming each letter, glancing up in between to see the reaction on his face. His expression is relaxed. He watches me rather than the pen, his stare full of adoration and awe. The tension I noted in his body when I first restrained him drifts away with each stroke of the pen.

I switch to orange and write ‘I missed you’ down the inside of his right thigh. He shivers as my knuckles brush against his balls. His cock hardens and stands to attention. In response, my pulse increases, and blood rushes to my dick. It strains against my zip, but I’m not ready to release it. Not ready to show Jools how much I want and need him, even though I’m pretty sure he knows.

He bites his lip. “I didn’t imagine this would be so sexy.”

“I’ve only just started.” I stroke his length—just once—and then lean down to kiss the tip of his cock. I smile in smug satisfaction as a bead of clear precum leaks from his slit. I lick it off and then slam my lips over his, transferring the taste to his mouth.

“Devin,” he whispers.

I swap the orange pen for a toothpick and scratch XOXOXO down the inside of his left arm. “Does it hurt?” I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

“No. It doesn’t hurt.”

I wait until his skin reacts and then trace the puffy lines lovingly with my finger. I retrieve the red pen and write ‘sexy’ down one V line, repeating it up the other. I use yellow to write ‘stunning’ across his stomach and ‘treasured’ over his ribs.

I retrieve a clean toothpick from the pot and hover the point over his neck. “Will it hurt if I write here?” I draw the toothpick through the air from one side of his neck to the other.

He swallows. “No.”

I gently scratch ‘good boy’ into his skin, like a collar across his neck. I say each letter out loud, watching as realization dawns in his eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to lick his lips. “I am a good boy.”

I smile and kiss his temple. “I know you are.”

His fingers twitch as though he wants to touch his neck, but he can’t, so I do it for him, stroking over the welts that are rising faster than on his arms.

I glance at the first word I wrote. His skin is no longer white and raised around it. It amuses me that I can use his skin to gauge the passage of time.