His breathing picked up. He struggled to pin his stare without looking away after a second. “I-I don’t know. Anything, everything. Oh God—” He almost choked, and then he pushed my hand away.
By the look of him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the glaze in his eyes, the absolute embarrassment in his expression, he was way too close to coming. But as he fought to compose himself, something else seeped in. He was visibly conflicted, gaze always flickering, worry creasing his forehead.
The man had qualms.
A horny man fresh out of the closet with qualms…
Christ.
I had to ask the right questions. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
The dim lighting couldn’t hide his embarrassment this time. He had guilt written all over him.
“Answer me.” I returned my hand to his cock and squeezed.
He gasped and buried his face against my neck. “I’m sorry—God, I’m sorry.” His breathing picked up again, possibly because I rubbed him harder than before. I wanted him to sit in the mess he was making for himself. “I was outside your building when you came out. I-I followed you here.”
So I wasn’t the only stalker. Noted. It was a fucking relief, the more I thought about it.
“You were gonna talk to me about Tate?” I questioned. “And somehow, we ended up here with me stroking your cock in the middle of a bar?”
He groaned and pressed his lips to my neck, which immediately turned into an openmouthed kiss. “How do I stop? I looked at you and wanted to hear every word you said. Tate is right—you’re a drug.”
Bad time to accuse me of something here. “What does that make you?”
“A horrible friend,” he moaned. “Weak, pathetic… All I can think about is worshiping your cock. I want to worship it. All of you. I want you to push me down on the floor and use me recklessly.”
I chuckled darkly and pressed the heel of my hand down on his balls. “Does Tate know you’re here?”
“Absolutely not.” He swallowed dryly, his breaths coming out in shallow puffs against my skin. “I told myself, just one more minute. Just one more conversation—then I’ll tell him the truth.”
“Tell who the truth?”
“You. About who I was—oh Christ.” He was panting heavily, and he tensed up. “Kingsley, I—”
No. I wasn’t gonna let him get away with this. I grabbed his chin forcefully, applied pressure to his cock, and kissed him. When he returned to Tate with his tail between his legs, he wasn’t gonna be able to claim that nothing had happened.
Franklin shuddered violently and moaned as he swept his tongue around mine.
Fuck. I wished I could say he wasn’t affecting me, but I couldn’t. If I’d had a few more drinks, I would’ve dragged him back to my place. Instead, I kissed him harder and growled out my frustration. “You cock-hungry whore, look what you’re doing to us.” When he let out a groan of surrender and dropped his forehead to my neck, I knew he was right there on the edge. “When you get home tonight, you’re gonna take a picture of the mess you’re about to make in your pants and send it to me. You understand?”
That seemed to do the trick. He thrust involuntarily into my hand, muffled a moan against my skin, and started coming.
Jesus fuck, I was gonna have to get off the minute I got home. And I could already see the fantasies forming in my head. I imagined having Franklin locked up in a room, maybe chained to a post, existing solely for my pleasure. I’d fuck with his head. I’d make him feel worthless. He’d kiss my feet if I asked him. I’d feed him my cock, and I’d see the sheer bliss on his face…
I drew a deep breath and moved my hand from his cock.
It’d been too long since I’d gotten to play with a humiliation slut. They were a whole other type of bottom. Their minds were addictive.
My problem now was not being able to be there for him afterward.
Franklin shivered repeatedly and righted his clothes. I could tell he didn’t know how to act. Coming out of that kind of haze wasn’t always easy.
“You okay?” I gave his neck a gentle squeeze.
He nodded jerkily and glanced around us, suddenly self-conscious. Suddenly aware. He was so new that a part of me wanted to take him under my wing.
“I don’t know what came over me.” He drained his drink in two gulps.
“Lust. Years of pent-up lust.”
He winced and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I threw myself at you. My friend’s very recent ex. Jesus Christ.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
I smirked faintly. That part wasn’t my problem, and I was sufficiently bitter not to give a shit if Tate got hurt. He’d hurt me too.
Sounds like he didn’t cheat on you…