Page 34 of Merrick

Merrick had spent his whole life talking, and he had no idea why he was only self-conscious about it in front of the one person who had never complained about it.

“What if I want to be ignored?” Wilder asked. “What if I like you lost?”

Merrick bit his lips together.

“You were so lost last night, over my lap with your cock leaking and your bruises darkening. I liked you like that very much, Merrick. Why wouldn’t I like you this way too?” he finished.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You can put the sheets into the hamper,” Wilder said. “I’ll drive.”

And with that, he turned and left Merrick alone in the middle of his bedroom, fresh sheets filling the air with the scent of cotton and lilacs. Merrick pressed his palm against the base of his erection, closing his eyes and willing himself to relax. When he counted to ten and his body showed no signs of compliance,he cursed under his breath and stomped back into the living room.

Wilder was ready with keys in his hand, his stare fixed on the hallway as soon as Merrick emerged.

“What’s wrong?” Wilder asked.

Merrick closed the space between them, stopping short of grabbing Wilder’s hand and shoving it between his legs.

“Tell me not to be hard,” he said.

Wilder chuckled, a breathy laugh. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it hurts. It’s distracting.”

“I think you should learn to live with it,” Wilder countered, reaching down and touching Merrick softer than he wanted. “I like you hard. It’s easier for when I want to use you.”

Merrick’s shoulders sagged and all the air left him in a rush.

“Put your hands together behind your head,” Wilder told him. “Lace your fingers together.”

Merrick did, and Wilder touched him a little more forcefully.

“Did you get hard from changing the sheets?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you get hard earlier today when you were making me breakfast?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His cheeks burned as if he should be embarrassed.

“Are you going to be hard when you’re painting?” Wilder asked.

“Probably.” He swallowed hard. “Sir.”

“Why would I want you any other way?”

Merrick shook his head, unsure of the answer.

“I always want you to be hard when you’re here.”

Wilder stroked him over his pants and Merrick’s legs shook. He tightened his fingers against each other, still braced together on the back of his head. “Yes, Sir.”

“If it ever becomes truly unbearable, you tell me. Okay? Just like how you would tell me to stop during sex if we ever went too far. If it’s ever really too much for you, I want to know. But I also want you to be certain you can’t take it.” Wilder leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss against the corner of his mouth. “And I think you can take plenty.”

“Yes, Sir.”