Page 10 of Weston & Cyrus
“It’s…the last few years everyone wants to be nice and there’s…there’s been a lot of talk about healthy BDSM.” It was so frustrating. “I’m not taking it to heart.”
I’m taking it to dick.
“But some people have decided that giving you what you want is rude.” Cyrus seemed to genuinely understand, which hadme reminding myself that I couldn’t relax and get lost in the fantasy again. “I can understand what you want, though. I know you and I know how honest you are with that kind of stuff.”
I tried but it was hard.
“That’s why you’ve done your best to steer our conversations away from specific kinks.” Cyrus’s glare said he didn’t appreciate that. “No squirming.”
Oops.
“Sorry.”
Maybe?
Raising one eyebrow, he didn’t look like he believed me. “I doubt it considering how hard you probably still are.”
He might’ve had a point but I couldn’t help pushing back. “You’re trying to do that on purpose, though. I…I can’t be held responsible for you fucking with me.”
He grinned.
Fuck it all.
“I know.” He was entirely too pleased with himself. “Now you need to acknowledge that I can give you what you want and you understand I’m not weirded out by it.”
Fucking hell.
“You’re an asshole.” He was using my own kinks against me or to me or for me…he was doing something.
“You probably find that really hot, so I’m not going to apologize.” His smirk faded into something dark and sexy as he glanced down at my lap again. “I am, however, going to do mybest to come up with a good punishment for you if you keep rubbing your erection with your arm.”
Shit.
“I don’t appreciate this.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but he smiled and didn’t seem to be having the same problem.
“Maybe not, but you’re desperate and squirming, so we’re not putting this in the negative category yet.” His brain was working entirely too well because he spread his legs wider and smirked again. “I think you’re turned on by the name calling and the situation. I think you’re turned on by me. I think you’re right on the edge of doing something stupid like pulling out your dick in the lounge.”
He was incredibly annoying.
And possibly a mind reader.
“However, since thinking is hard while other things are hard, I’m going to help you.” His definition of help seemed to include stroking high on his thighs and letting his fingers subtly tease the edges of his own erection.
He was hard.
How long had he been that aroused?
Was it fucking with me that did it to him?
Was he as big as I thought he’d be?
I’d only seen glances of him soft when he was changing clothes and I’d always done my best to give him privacy and tune out him being naked, but I was starting to wonder if he’d been trying to let me catch glimpses of him before.
“How…how are you going to help me?” He was making my head spin and I couldn’t figure out what that meant.
He looked so big…likegoing to be impressivebig.
Did bodybuilding give guys bigger dicks if they stayed away from that weird crap?
