Page 12 of Lonely
His eyes met mine, clearer than before, and he sank his teeth into my palm.
A sharp burst of pain flared through my skin, and I gasped as blood rushed to my cock. I reveled in the fire staring back at me.
“There you are, Carter.”
I pulled my hand away and smeared blood across his cheeks and chin, admiring the mess.
He glared up at me, suspicious, while I retrieved my camera from the top drawer.
With my sore ass perched on the desk, I lifted the camera to my face.
Photos spat out, scattering across his lap and down by his feet.
My trapped cock ached as I snapped more shots of my favorite patient. He stayed stoic, glowering the entire time, his lips pressed tight.
When I lowered the camera and told him to smile, he flared his nostrils in silent rebellion.
I chuckled and straightened as I slid the latest photograph free. He turned away, and his jaw flexed while I wafted his image in the air.
“Do you know why I take your photograph, Carter?”
There was that tic again. His whole body was tight with fury. Coiled. Unyielding.
A young stallion.
“I want to freeze your perfection in time.”
He snapped his head toward me as I sank to my knees.
“I don’t think you realize how good I can be to you if you let me.” I reached for his waistband and lowered it slowly, watching every flicker of emotion as his cock sprang free, half-hard.
His expression darkened when I took another photo. The whirring was loud in the room. I slid the Polaroid free and blew on it.
“You need to talk to me sooner or later, Carter.”
He stayed silent. Always silent.
Placing the camera on the floor, I dragged my hands up his thighs. “Use that voice, Carter. Tell me to stop.”
Part of me wanted to hear that raspy voice again. A bigger part hoped he stayed quiet.
His body jerked, wrists straining against the leather as I closed my hand around his dick. He swelled in my grip, growing thick and hard.
“I knew as soon as I saw you that you would have a magnificent cock, Carter, and I wasn’t wrong.”
Those defiant eyes, the color of storm-tossed woods, locked on me as I stroked him, veins bulging in his arms with every sharp breath.
I took it all in. Memorized every rise and fall of his chest. The wild pulse in his throat. The twitching in his thighs. The war between pleasure and pride. He wanted to tell me to go fuck myself, but he wanted to come more.
I loved the power I held over him now. Loved the moment he gave in to his shudder.
His hips started to move, feeding my hand more of his cock. He was glorious like this, as he gave himself to me while chasing his climax.
I could have been anyone right then. My hand was nothing more than a tool for his pleasure as he fucked it with abandon, breathy grunts filling my office.
Before he could finish, I stood to retrieve the camera and started snapping again while he caught his breath.
His cock wept as he dropped his head back in defeat. He craved release more than anything. More than his next meal.
