Page 12 of Stealing the Merman

Good behavior had to be rewarded. Conall’s fingers dove deep and stroked Darin’s sweet spot. Darin gave a full-body shudder, throbbing and twitching around Conall’s digits.

“Don’t come,” Conall ordered and went for the kill.

His fingertips massaged Darin’s gland in powerful circles. Darin’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden pressure Conall applied to his most sensitive spot. Knuckles white, he held onto the edges of the table as Conall relentlessly rubbed and stroked his helpless bundle of nerves. Another visible shiver raced from his head to his feet.

“Sir!” Darin cried out. “I can’t control—”

“Promise me you won’t come until I allow it.”

“I’ll try—”

“No,” Conall said, enjoying himself far too much as Darin bucked beneath him in a useless attempt to control his body. “Promise. Me.”

Darin’s eyes closed, and the muscles in his back relaxed. “I promise,” he whispered.

He was going to fail. Conall traced his prostate, and Darin went back to rigid, all muscles tensing as he fought his body. Conall grinned. With devilish glee, he tapped Darin’s love spot to the tune of the fiddle that drifted into the room from above. Darin squirmed and panted, his face scrunching. Conall loved making him feel good. Out of control. The last time Conall had lost control had been with Finn. He would’ve given everything to make Finn lose it too.

As if Darin had read his thoughts he asked, “Did you learn this from your merman?”

“What do you think?”

“I think he made you come so hard, you’ll be thinking about it for the rest of your life. I know I will.”

Darin wasn’t wrong. What Finn had done to him—no one could forget that. It was how Conall knew what to do next. He increased the speed with which he hammered Darin’s prostate. A strangled cry forced its way out of him. He nailed him dead center, making him quake and quiver. The sounds pouring out of him became higher and needier by the second. Conall’s fingers formed a ring around the base of his erection, but he didn’t apply pressure.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you. Please, help me obey you. Please, help me not to come.”

But Conall’s hold on him remained loose. His probing fingers increased their pace again. The muscles around the root of Darin’s cock strained like a bow about the snap. He was giving his all to prevent the forbidden orgasm. “No,” Conall said. “I won’t press down on your base. I won’t help you. I want to feel you struggle. I want to feel you fail.”

Everyone else had failed him, and Darin would too. Conall thought of affairs gone south. He thought of the festering wound Anne’s betrayal had left in his soul.

Darin’s inner walls trembled with his effort to keep his orgasm at bay. “I won’t fail,” Darin said, his softly spoken words in stark contrast to his struggling body, his throbbing hole.

Oh, he would. Conall redoubled his efforts, pouring everything he had into taking him over the edge. He sped up until his fingers were vibrating against the core of Darin’s being. Darin would come against Conall’s direct order, whether he wanted it or not. His body would explode into orgasmic contractions without permission, betraying them both. Sweat ran down Conall’s forehead. His shirt was soaked, sticking to his skin.

The muscles at the base of Darin’s cock twitched. His prostate swelled. He had to be seconds from coming.

Darin purred. Every muscle in him strained. And he couldn’t hold the tension forever.

“I obey you,” Darin panted, looking up at him over his shoulder as best as he could given his position. “I—I come for… you. Ahhh. My orgasm is yours. I haven’t touched myself since you started fucking me. I will come when you… when you say so.”

He was shaking and writhing, teetering on the edge but not falling. He had never been more beautiful. His hole squeezed Conall’s fingers in silent desperation, begging him for permission.

“You own me,” Darin whispered.

Conall pressed his fingertips into Darin’s prostate, his surefire way to force an overstimulated man into orgasm. A broken sob escaped Darin, and his entire body shuddered. Still, he didn’t come. Another sob. Something in Conall snapped. To hell with everything. He couldn’t torment Darin.

He released the pressure on his gland and gave it two slow, loving strokes. “Come for me.”

Darin keened. His hole grew so tight it painfully squeezed Conall’s fingers. Then his insides, along with every muscle in his body, broke out into wild contractions. He thrashed and screamed as he convulsed. Conall stroked Darin’s cock and prostate in time with his depraved, high-pitched moans. The whole world shook as he brutally came around Conall’s fingers, in the grip of his hand. Whenever his climax threatened to ebb off, Conall revived it with firm strokes, sending Darin into another round of violent spasms. Wave after wave he teased out of the boy’s body. Even when his contractions became slow and heavy, Conall didn’t stop. Darin moaned every time his hole and cock seized anew in an endlessly long spasm of tension and release. Only when he collapsed, every muscle going slack and he let out the most satisfied sigh Conall had ever heard, did he let go and pull out.

Darin looked positively debauched. Sweat had darkened his hair and plastered it to his head. His cheeks were pink, and his lips swollen. His back was wet with sweat, and a single pearl ran down the side of his face, tracing his fine features.

Conall’s raging hard cock throbbed. He’d wrecked Darin. Completely and utterly wrecked him. A lazy smile played on the boy’s lips. Conall shouldn’t have let him come undone like this. He’d all but killed him. There’d be no sex for him tonight, and it was his damn fault. He shouldn’t have ruined his toy if he wanted to play with it.

“Fuck me,” Darin said.

Conall patted his buttocks. “I finished you off for tonight.”

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