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“I’ll let you decide,” he offered, mouth twisting up into a devious smile. “You can get it off now, but I’m going to make you come as many times asIwant. Or you can wait until later and we can make you come as many times asyouwant.”
I covered my face with my hands, pressing my fingertips into my eyelids. Archie offered me a choice between two kinds of torture and leaving the decision up to me felt horribly unfair. Of course I wanted it off right that second. I actually worried I was going to come all over his hand the second my cock was able to swell to full hardness. But the threat of letting Archie control how many orgasms followed that release? That was…something else entirely. And the thought of leaving my poor dick locked up until whatever time in the day he decided was long enough and being the one in control of my orgasms afterward? Maybe a sweet reward after two days of torture.
But…
There were things about Archie that made him perfect for me, and his cruelty around getting me off was one of them.
“You choose,” I muttered, letting my arms fall limp at my sides.
“What was that?”
“You choose,” I said again, grinding out the words.
He answered that with a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat.
“I think I win either way,” he whispered. “Because I know once you get past four orgasms, you never want me to stop anyway. It’s like your tipping point into oblivion.”
“This is the most perverse game of chance I think I’ve ever played.”
“How about we meet in the middle?” Archie cocked his head to the side, hair falling across his forehead.
I reached up and brushed a chunk of soft brown strands behind his ear. He angled his head the other way, leaning into my hand with a borderline sadistic smile.
“What’s the middle?”
“We take it off after lunch.” He puckered his lips toward my palm, blowing a kiss against the heel of my thumb. “And I make you come as many times as I want.”
“You pretty much said that was what was going to happen anyway,” I grumbled.
“Good, then we’re in agreement.” Archie slid his arms around me and pulled me close, the plastic cage bumping into his hip as he brought our bodies together. “Now kiss me.”
As always, I never told him no.
With a slight turn of my head, I pressed our mouths together and parted my lips for his tongue. Archie moaned, licking past my teeth and into the depths of my mouth, kissing me like we’d been doing it our whole lives and not just three months.
Three months.
Time moved quickly when we were together.
It wasn’t more than two weeks after Mandy’s wedding that I moved to California without much more than the clothes on my back. I’d gotten onto that plane again and closed the distance between us for what we both hoped to be the very last time. Archie paid for movers to come and pack up my things because he couldn’t bear the thought of me being away from him for even one more day. And, to be honest, neither could I. Frankie came out when it was finally moving day, meeting Archie’s friends and helping me get settled. He wasn’t Archie’s number one fan, and he definitely didn’t like Flynn, but after about a month, he’d stopped giving me shit for the quick relocation.
I was grateful that Archie wasn’t the jealous type because Frankie’s friendship meant more to me than my romantic relationship with him had, and being able to maintain that meant a lot to me. Even with Frankie across the country, we talked every day and he was still my best friend. We’d all gotten settled into this new kind of routine, and I’d found a new job doing the same thing but making twice as much money because that was just what happened in California. Archie had vowed that I didn’t have to work, but he’d stopped fighting when I insisted that I wanted to.
He gave me absolute free reign over his house once my things got delivered, but I didn’t have the heart to mess up the space he’d curated for himself. I’d kept my band posters tucked away in the back of the closet until I came home one day and found them re-framed and hung behind the back of the couch. Neither of us said anything about it, but I’d sucked Archie’s cock with twice as much vigor as normal that night as my way of saying thanks.
It continued on a lot like that while I got settled, finding little bits and pieces of my life integrating into his almost flawlessly. We started using the kitchen and eating at home. I took to feeding his friends—my friends now—at least once a month, sometimes more. All in all, it was the start of a life I’d never even realized I wanted until it was almost out of my grasp for a second time.
I had bad dreams some nights, when I would wake up after dreaming about telling Archie to leave me again, but him never coming back to me. Thankfully, the warmth of his body and the softness of his sheets would always calm my fears and ease me awake, wrapping me up until my heart rate returned to normal and my mind remembered where I was.
Right where I was always meant to be.
“Go get on the bed,” Archie murmured against my lips. “Get on all fours.”
“I thought you said after lunch.”
“I thought we agreed you would do what you’re told.” He nipped at my lower lip and gave me a gentle push toward the hallway.
We had, in fact, never agreed such a thing, but we had both learned, over time and trial and error, that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world for me to lean into my submission a little. Sometimes. I was by no means a collar-wearing yes, sir-no, sir kind of submissive, but I didn’t hate kneeling for him occasionally, and I very much liked giving him enough control to send my soul into an absolute other stratosphere every time he got me off.
