Page 112 of Deathless
"On the bed," he said. "On your back."
I stretched out on the sheets. The cotton was cool against my skin, and the ceiling fan turned slow above me, pushing warm air across my chest. Jasper stayed in his chair like he planned to run this whole thing from across the room, which was either the hottest thing he'd ever done or the most infuriating. Both. Definitely both.
He tapped something on his phone.
"Lube's in the drawer. Get yourself ready and then put it inside you."
I reached over, found the bottle, and slicked the toy. The silicone was dense, heavier than I expected, body-warm from the foam lining. I spread my legs, pressed the tip against my hole, and worked it in slow. The curve hit the front wall of me on the way in, and I sucked air through my teeth. The ridges dragged against the rim, and the full length of it settled inside me, the base flush against my skin. I lay there, breathing, adjusting to the weight and the stretch and the fact that my man was sitting fully dressed in a chair six feet away looking at his phone like he was checking stock prices.
Jasper tapped his phone.
The vibration started low. A deep, rolling pulse that radiated out from the curve pressed against my prostate and spread through my pelvis in a slow wave that made my toes curl against the sheets. I gripped the mattress.
"That's mode one," he said. "Just vibration. I want you to get used to the feel before I give you anything else."
"I'm used to it."
"No, you're not. Your breathing just changed." Another drag of the cigarette. "Stay still."
I stayed still because Jasper told me to stay still, and my body had learned a long time ago that when Jasper used that voice, you did what he said and thanked him for the privilege. The pulse rolled through me in slow waves, and my cock thickened against my stomach, untouched, heavy. He studied every twitch and shift from across the room, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. Jasper was doing surveillance on my dick. Dios mío, this was my life now.
"Mode two," he said, and tapped.
The vibration shifted. The steady pulse broke into a pattern, a climb-and-drop rhythm that crested right against my prostate and then backed off before I could push into it. My hips jerked against the sheets.
"Jasper."
"Stay still." His voice had dropped into the register that meant he was running the operation and I was the objective. "This one builds. Give it a minute."
The pattern climbed again. The crest lasted longer this time, the vibration pressing deep and holding before it dropped, and when it dropped my whole body chased it, my muscles clenching around the shaft to keep the pressure where I needed it. Pre-come slicked the crease of my hip. Whatever smartass observation I'd been building in my head dissolved because the second crest hit harder and I forgot how sentences worked.
"Good," Jasper said. "You're leaking."
"I'm aware." Barely. The awareness was leaving fast.
"Don't touch yourself."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"You were thinking about it. I can see your hand." He tapped the phone again. "Mode three. This one rotates."
The shaft moved inside me. A slow, grinding rotation that pressed the curved head in a circle against my prostate, changing the angle with every pass. I stopped breathing. The rotation combined with the pulse pattern and the sensation went from pressure to something molten, something that spread through my groin and up my spine and ripped a sound out of my throat that I had no say in.
"There it is," Jasper said, quiet. He leaned forward in the chair. "That's the one I wanted to hear."
"Dios." I grabbed the headboard. The rotation kept going without mercy, and every pass over that spot drove the heat higher. My thighs shook. My cock leaked a steady line down the side of the shaft, and I couldn't do anything about it because I had a death grip on the headboard and Jasper hadn't given me permission to let go. Six feet away. He was six feet away, and he was destroying me with his thumb on a screen.
"You can touch your chest," he said. "Nothing below the waist."
I dragged my hand down my sternum. My skin was damp, oversensitive, every nerve lit up from the vibration radiating through my pelvis. I scraped my nails across my own nipple, and the spike of sensation on top of the rotation arched me off the bed.
Jasper stubbed out his cigarette. He gripped the armrests and his knuckles went white. I could see him hard against the inseam of his jeans, the outline of his cock pressed tight against the denim. He made no move to touch himself, porque por supuesto que no, because the man would rather white-knuckle an armchair than admit he was as wrecked as I was.
"One more mode," he said. "This one thrusts."
"Jasper, if you turn that on right now, I'm going to come."
"No, you won't." He held my gaze across the room. "Because I haven't told you to."
