Leaning over the sink, Michael splashed cold water on his flushed face. He brushed his teeth and combed out his hair with his fingers—routine actions that helped his arousal die down a little. His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Yesterday maybe? Griffin had told him where to find the kitchen and that anything in it was fair game. Food. Food was good. Food would distract him.
He crept out of the room in the nursery wing and headed for the main stairs. He remembered Griffin’s rather idiomatic instructions—down the f**k-off big stairs in the middle, left at that stupid marble whatever that I want to get rid of but Mom would kill me if I did, past the dining room with the anal table, and the kitchen’s on the right.
“The anal table?” Michael had asked.
“Perfect height for anal sex,” Griffin explained.
So Michael descended the f**k-off big stairs in the middle of the hall and turned left at the marble statue, which was some kind of horse, he guessed. A door on the left side of the hall stood slightly ajar. From inside escaped soft sounds of pleasure.
Quietly he crept to the door. Inside the expansive, opulent dining room Michael saw Nora and Griffin. Nora lay naked on the center of the enormous table. Long cords of red silk bound her wrists to the table legs while her own legs lay splayed open at the edge. Griffin, wearing nothing but leather pants that rested low on his trim hips, stood between her knees as he worked his hand into her. Carefully he pushed first three, then four and finally all five of his fingers inside her straining body. Michael winced but Nora seemed to enjoy it. Her back arched and her hips rose off the table as Griffin’s entire hand disappeared inside her.
If a cannon had gone off behind Michael, he still wouldn’t have been able to look away. Nora had such beautiful br**sts, and they rose and fell with her every ragged breath. The sight of Griffin’s muscled, tattooed arm wrist-deep in Nora brought Michael nearly to orgasm from watching alone. He never thought he had a leather fetish or anything, but for some reason the sight of Griffin in leather pants, looking like some kind of rock star bathed in sweat and candlelight, brought every part of Michael’s body to full attention.
He heard Griffin whispering carnal encouragements to Nora, who rode his hand with hungry undulations of her pelvis as she pulled at the scarlet scarves. Her breathing grew harsh and labored. Griffin’s fingers massaged her swollen clitoris until her entire body went rigid for what seemed like an eternity before she released an exalted cry.
Her orgasm over, Nora lay still for a minute panting and laughing a little as Griffin gingerly worked his way out of her. He untied her wrists from the table and used the scarf to clean his hand. Reaching out, he grabbed Nora’s spent body and lifted her off the table with a casual display of strength. A small puddle of fluid glimmered on the table’s polished surface right where Nora’s hips had rested.
Pulling Nora to him, Griffin hissed a harsh command into her ear as he took the silk scarf and tied her wrists behind her back. Nora protested, pouted, begged a little. But Griffin only took her by the neck and pushed her onto the floor. He leaned against the table as Nora sunk to her knees in front of him. Michael nearly moaned out loud as Griffin freed his erection from the confines of his leather pants. Good God, Griffin was seriously well hung. Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away as Griffin grabbed the back of Nora’s head and forced her to take his impressive girth into her mouth. Griffin braced himself on the table with one hand as he moved in and out slowly.
Michael knew he shouldn’t be watching this. Griffin and Nora were having sex. No way would they want him gaping at them the whole time. But he couldn’t leave, couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop staring at the line at the center of Griffin’s chest, the line that started at his strong neck, trailed down his broad chest, divided his ridged stomach and led down all the way into Nora’s mouth. Griffin’s stomach tightened further as a little grunt of pleasure passed his lips.
The hand in Nora’s hair now caressed her face, her cheek, and Griffin stared down at her with hooded, lust-filled eyes. He playfully tapped her on the chin and winked. Winked? At the wink, Nora’s rather occupied mouth twitched with a little smile. Until now Michael had always thought of kink as something dark and dangerous, something for fetishists and freaks like him. Now it suddenly dawned on him. BDSM was a game—a game where both players won.
Griffin returned Nora’s smile before another desperate breath escaped his lips. Michael’s heart clenched at the obvious affection Griffin felt for Nora. Would someone ever do that to him—smile at him like that, touch him like that, with affection, with love during sex? He worried constantly he would never find anyone to love him. Finding someone who understood his sexuality and didn’t judge him for it seemed a near-impossible dream. Nora had Father S, and surely Griffin had tons of lovers who satisfied all his wants and desires. Would Michael ever have that? Surely most girls would make a run for it the second he told them he needed to be dominated in the bedroom. And Nora sort of seemed like one of a kind.
With a heavy heart, Michael finally pulled away from the cracked-open door and headed back to his room. Once again the demon of envy danced in his chest. He stopped and rested his head against the wall to breathe for a few seconds.
The scene he’d just witnessed flashed in front of his mind’s eye again, but this time it was him in the dining room. He could feel the plush Persian rug soft but prickly under his knees, the cord taut around his wrists. In shock, Michael’s eyes flew open as he realized for one second he didn’t envy Griffin because he got to be with Nora.