“Up you go, boy.”
I push my chair away from the table as Dane rises on shaky legs. It’s going to be hard to make this last for any significant length of time, given that the level of sexual tension between us could power half of Manhattan. It doesn’t have to be long, thankfully—just hot.
I guide him with a hand on his wrist so he’s standing right in front of my chair. His pants are even more revealing than mine, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. I run my palm up and down over his crotch, stabilizing him with my other hand when he sways and whimpers.
“Mmm, boy, is this for your Master?”
“Yesss,” he hisses, pressing forward into my hand.
Careful to keep my voice gentle, I tease, “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted a spanking, Dane?”
His eyes pop, and he throws his head back. Holy shit! I’ve struck erotic gold. I cup his package and give him a not-so-gentle squeeze; he groans out loud.
“Take off your pants!”
My cock is uncomfortably compressed, but I drop my hands by my sides and watch Dane set a new speed record wriggling out of his pants and briefs. My thighs drop open so I can wrap my ankles behind his calves, drawing him forward until his shins meet the chair. He locks his hands behind his back, and I set my palms on his thighs, drawing his shiver. My thumbs run up the creases where legs meet groin, and his dick reaches for me and deposits a milky bead as down payment for what he is about to receive.
“Dane, did you know that good boys get spankings, too?”
His forehead creases with the effort of picking the right answer. He wants this. There is no wrong answer.
“No, Master?” he tries.
“Oh, yes,” I respond, leaning in so my warm breath spins a puff of teasing air around his tip. “It’s true.” My hands glide around his trim frame, kneading his cheeks, getting him ready. He rocks gently, letting me control the motion of his hips.
“And have you been a good boy, Dane?”
His eyes are half-sheathed with his heavy lids. He’s mad with desire. “Yes, Master.”
I can’t make him wait another second. Taking his wrist in my hand again, I pull him to my side.
“I agree. You are a very, very good boy, and you deserve a very, very good spanking, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master,” he answers, making my cock weep by adding, “please.”
Looping our fingers together, giving him just that extra bit of reassurance he might need, I give him the command we’ve both been waiting for. “Bend over my knee, boy.”
Dane looks down at my lap, into my eyes, back at his raging erection, and with mild horror blurts out, “Master, your pants!”
It’s almost unfathomable to me that at this moment, he’s managed to worry about soiling my pants.
“You and I are going to wreck these pants, Dane.” He lets me pull him down and smooth him out across my lap. My cock jumps at the contact.
“Go ahead and grab onto my leg with your hands . . . that’s it. Now spread your thighs for me so I can . . .” I slip my hand between his legs and he jumps when I grab his balls from behind. “Yesss, that’s just what I wanted.”
While Dane squirms and squeaks, I run my hands under his shirt, along his ass and thighs, talking to him while I ease into the spanking. What started as a caress becomes a rub, becomes a tap, then an open-handed smack. There’s plenty of stroking to counterbalance—his back, his neck, his hair, all the places Dane loves to be stroked.
“Does that feel good, Dane?”
“Yes, Master,” he answers.
“Mmhmm, I thought so.” Each spank has a little zing to it, but it’s far more bark than bite. An erotic adventure, not a punishment, complete with dirty words to help him draw a vivid picture of exactly what’s being done to him.
“You’re turning such a nice shade of pink for me. So beautiful.”
Dane rocks forward and back with the impact, the friction driving him nearly mad.
“My pants must feel rough rubbing against your swollen cock.”
I reach beyond his balls, slipping my hand between bare skin and fabric to find him hot and solid as steel. He lets out a series of grunts and ruts against my hand.
Oh, Dane, I think we’ve found your button!
“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you, boy?”
“Yes, Master.” His voice is clipped and shallow, a man fighting for control.
“Breathe, Dane.” I swat each cheek; he wiggles and moans, tightens his grasp on my leg, rocks between the pleasure of one hand and the sting of the other.
“Oh, you are getting good and needy. You are going to have such a big, messy orgasm for your Master, aren’t you, my boy?”
“Yes, Master.” And soon, from the sounds of it.
Two more swats and I’ve got him right on the edge.
“Give me what I want now, Dane. Show your Master how much you like my gift!” I push my thumb into the crack between his cheeks and grab the base of his cock just in time to intensify his release. Dane thrusts into my lap for a mighty five sprays, yelping and holding onto my leg for dear life.
The hot stream of his release soaks my crotch, and with all the excitement and friction and warmth, I am a goner, too. No time for anything fancy or even the slightest bit dignified; I clutch his body and pump my hips like a man possessed.
The two of us are quite the sight, I’m sure—folded over each other like an accordion, making a duet of feral noises far less musical. We’re a heap of slippery, heaving, post-orgasmic happy.
Dane angles his head to look up at me from the vicinity of my right ankle, starts up a chuckle, and soon we’re both giggling so hard we’re shaking.
“Here’s to spontaneity,” I say, offering him a hand up and marveling at the intensity of this brief, unplanned scene.
He wobbles onto his feet and stands in front of me, hands on hips, surveying the wreckage of my lap. “I think you might need to throw those away.”
“Yeah,” I snort, “Can you imagine the conversation at the dry cleaner’s. ‘Sir, can you identify these stains?’ ‘Yes, it’s semen.’ ‘All of it?’ ‘Yes, you see, I was giving my boy a sound spanking . . .’ Jesus!”
I look up absently from the Jackson Pollock in my lap to find a highly contemplative Dane. “What is it, Dane?”
“I just wanted to say, I don’t think I’ll be having a nightmare tonight.”
Dane has a bit more spring in his step as he pulls on his down jacket and hoists his duffel over his shoulder—so much so, in fact, that I can’t resist drawing him in for a goodbye kiss. God, he tastes fantastic, all minty and ready for the day.
I am one sappy, happy Master, and not just because Dane’s walking on air. We finally get to spend the day together tomorrow, and I have plans for us—starting with tonight.
“Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure you have tomorrow off?”
“Yes, Master.” Dane grins at my eager display.
“They’re not going to call you in for some special rehearsal to practice kissing Jeannie?”
And now he laughs out loud. “Nope. We got it down pretty well in the run-through yesterday.”
I grab his collar on both sides of his neck and kiss the grin right off his face. “You better not have enjoyed it.”
“I can assure you, I didn’t.”
It dawns on me that not enjoying it might actually be harmful for his career. “Were you good at it?”
Dane’s natural state of being is humility, so his confidence is especially disarming. “Matt said we were convincing.”
I loosen my grip and pat him on both puffy shoulders. “Attaboy. How’d you manage it?”
“I pretended her mouth was a chocolate-covered strawberry.”
“That’s the big secret? That’s what Rob told you he does?”
“No,” Dane shakes his head, still grinning as wide as the day is long, “he told me to actually act and pretend I was a straight guy. This was easier. I love chocolate-covered strawberries.”
He might be too fucking adorable right now.
“Does Jeannie know about your method acting?”
“I wasn’t sure she’d appreciate it.”
“You’re probably right there, Dane. Best keep that one under your hat.”
He needs to go, but he’s waiting for me to dismiss him. All this talk about kissing . . . Just one more for the road, then.
“I don’t want you thinking about fruit when I kiss you.”
I lean in and press my lips over his, basking in his cool, breezy taste. “Or chocolate,” I add, putting the finishing flourish on a kiss he might revisit all the way to the theater. I pull back, reluctantly releasing him back to the streets of the city.
“Not even chocolate?” he teases. “That might be a bit of a challenge.”
“Dane, do you realize today is our halfway point? Fifteen days.”
“Actually, I did know that. Guess you can’t get rid of me quite yet,” he says, then grimaces at his own bad joke.
“You are rather tough to take, but I suppose I can manage a couple more weeks, anyway. Goodbye, Dane. Dance well.”
“See you later, Master.”
I have a few things to take care of in the eleven hours until I see him again, starting with passing along the dipshit’s name to Aro. Text is easier, and I won’t have to listen to his bone-chilling cackle. I swear the guy could make a fortune selling his voice to horror movie sound editors.
How will Master spend the day today? Thoughts? I love your thoughts so much!