Cup of Joe (Bold Brew 1)

“Yes, Sir.” My voice came out as a breathy whisper, a mirror to how bubbly and light my insides were turning. Joe was so talented at this, blurring the line between pretend and real, making playing along as effortless as inhaling.

“Good boy.” There it was, and I couldn’t help my wriggle. I still didn’t touch him, though. He’d tell me when, and it would be so much more worth it. He stroked a big hand down my thigh. “This is the part where I want you to hold still.”

I tensed all my muscles, trying to go statue-still for him. Which was that much harder when he started laughing.

“What?” I demanded.

“How about not like a firing squad is in front of you.”

“Yeah— Yes, Sir.” I corrected myself before he could. Rolling my shoulders and back, I tried to find a more comfortable position I could hold. However, before I got settled, Joe made the choice for me, yanking me the rest of the way down, all my weight on his lap. He arranged me so my hands were behind me.

“You have permission to brace yourself on my knees if you need to, but otherwise stay as still as you can.”

“Okay.” I tensed a little, expecting a rebuke for my lapse, but Joe only smiled deviously. Leaning in, he mimicked my teasing from the previous night, ghosting little kisses across my face but never on my lips. Even as I held still, I made an impatient noise. “You can kiss me.”

“I could.” He didn’t sound in any particular hurry.

“But you won’t?” I gave in to the urge to pout, hoping he might relent.

But of course, he only chuckled more. “Brat. I’m charge of when and where, right?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” I inhaled sharply as he ran his hands up and down my sides. He matched the featherlight touches with a soft nuzzling of my neck. His stubble scraped, but his lips were like hot coals on ice, sizzling my skin with each movement.

This gentleness was entirely unexpected. I’d assumed he’d have me sucking his cock by this point and had anticipated much rougher touches. Not that I wanted meanness, but it always seemed like a necessary adjunct to the sort of domination I craved. But with Joe, he had complete control of the situation even as he treated me like I was some sort of fancy chocolate, the kind meant to be eaten slowly.

Holding still like he’d asked, I endured more neck nibbling until my abs were trembling. Was it possible to shoot only from neck kisses? Enough of this torture and we might both find out the answer.

I gave a strained laugh. “Too good.”

“Too good? No such thing.” He licked my Adam’s apple, finding a rough spot I’d missed when shaving, then soothing it with softer teasing. Moving his hands lower, he pulled back to look at me. “I want to feel your pretty panties.”

He didn’t pitch it as a question, but the way he paused let me know this was a place where I could draw a limit. This was far different from the car-careening-out-of-control feeling that submitting to Rick had inspired. With Joe, I felt strangely powerful, even as I placed myself at his mercy.

Nodding, I tried hard not to wiggle my ass to get him to move faster.

“Good boy.” Joe’s praise was more than worth my efforts. He used his big hands to grope my ass, making the panties slide and tug against my straining cock.

“Oh. Oh.” My breath came in little gasps.

“Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Not rocking into his touch was a challenge, especially when he traced his fingertips along my waistband and leg openings. The thin fabric rasped over my cock, confining it further.

“So sensitive,” he chided when I whimpered at the sensation. “Do you ever get off with them on?”

Lots. Gulping, I looked down at my knees, studying the way they hugged his hips and dug into the couch cushions.

“Hey.” Joe nudged my chin with his thumb, meeting my eyes again. “Hold still. Remember? That means to keep looking at me. And you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything that gets you off. I wanna hear about all of it.”

“Yes, Sir.” I released a shuddery breath. His gentle correction both settled and unnerved me. It was getting harder and harder to keep up with the Sir when my whole body knew what I truly wanted from him. But despite his reassurance, I worried about his reaction. And I had zero desire to stop this sexy-as-hell scene for more kink negotiating.

“Tell me how you do it,” he ordered.

Not squirming was hard, as was not glancing around the room to avoid meeting his intense eyes. “I…uh…touching over the fabric. But…sometimes I rub on something.”

“Like humping your pillow, naughty boy?”

“Yes. Yes.” I fucking loved being naughty for Joe, loved when he spoke to me in his deep, rumbly voice, loved how he made me feel both dirty as hell and safe at the same time.