All Kinds of Tied Down (23 page)

“Will you let me lead?”

Please, God, say yes.

He made a noise that sounded like agreement, but I wasn’t sure, and I had to be. Breaking the kiss, I stepped sideways so I wouldn’t topple back on the bed.

“Ian?”

He was staring at me intently, waiting.

I had to tell him what to do, I instinctively understood that. No wonder he’d supposedly been crappy in bed with Emma and the others, he was supposed to be the one leading and he wasn’t made that way. I could see it all over him, the tremble that engulfed the hard-muscled man. He looked like he should be the one throwing me down, taking what he wanted, but instead, he was waiting for instruction.

The time for more questions was past. I couldn’t ask what he wanted, I knew that. If I asked permission, I lost control, and Ian craved my dominance. He had always noticed my body, the innate physical strength in it, but he had never guessed at the leashed power inside. But I understood that a part of him wanted to be held down, wanted to be made to submit, and intuitively, he’d known I could do that for him.

It was scary. If I messed up, I not only ruined a friendship, but a partnership as well. If I’d misread him, what he needed or wanted, I wouldn’t recover. If I was somehow wrong… but how could I not take the chance to have everything? Not knowing, that was worse. I was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.

All of this rushed through my head while Ian remained frozen, waiting and vigilant.

“Come here,” I ordered.

He moved fast and I drew a fortifying breath.

“Take everything off.”

Instantly he tugged off the duffle coat, let it drop, and then reached behind his back, between his shoulder blades, and pulled his Henley, and the T-shirt underneath, forward, up, and off. Watching him strip for me sent blood rushing to my cock, and I realized that being in control of Ian
and
myself might be more than I could handle.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your clothes too?”

I cleared my throat. “Don’t worry about me. Just get your shoes off.”

He toed them off, sat and pulled off his socks one by one before getting to his feet fast to yank down his pants and briefs. After stepping roughly from them, he waited, hands on hips, for what would come next.

“Pull the covers down and get on the bed, in the middle, on your hands and knees.”

He moved without question, and admiring him—the play of muscles under his sleek skin, the tight round ass, the powerful lines of him, his back, his thighs and legs—made my mouth dry. Every part of the man was sculpted and beautiful and scarred. He was a mess of heavy silver tissue in some places, spiderweb-fine lines in others from stab wounds and bullets, and of course the crisscross pattern on his back where he’d been flogged over and over for weeks. Scar tissue was a funny thing; under the skin it became like a root system, branching out from one place and rippling outward. On top of the skin, it became patterns, almost art, sometimes raised with how heavy it was underneath. It hurt to think of Ian being brutalized, but each mark had made him who he was now. I planned to trace each one with my fingers and tongue.

“Where’s the bag?” I asked softly, trying to keep the ferocious desire in check.

He pointed at the nightstand, not moving, not embarrassed or telling me to hurry up.

I slipped around the bed fast and glanced at him as I did. His long gorgeous cock was curling up toward his stomach and drooling precum. The whole thing, my giving orders, turned him on big time.

Behind him, I shed my coat, my heavy sweater, and the T-shirt underneath, and when I unbuckled my belt, he shivered. I saw it.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, leaning forward to smooth a hand down his flank. “You know that, right?”

He caught his breath, and I smiled as another shudder ran through him.

Leaning back, I pulled my pants off, left my socks on, and climbed onto the bed behind him. When I kissed the small of his back, pulling the cellophane off the tube at the same time, he let out a low moan of need.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing all right?”

He nodded.

“First I’m opening this tube of lube you got.” The pop of the cap sounded loud in the quiet room with only Ian’s breathing breaking the silence. “I would have liked a thicker one for your first time, so I’ma be gentle.”

“I don’t—just not slow.”

“Why not?” I asked, curling over him, snaking my arm under him to take hold of his heavy cock and stroke him from balls to head.

“Miro!” he yelled, bucking forward into my fist. “Please.”

The garbled request in Ian’s gruff rumble was something I’d only ever hoped to hear.

“I have to—” He gasped as I slid one slick finger between his cheeks, his entire body clenching at once. “—you have to….”

I squeezed his cock and he heaved out a breath, relaxing at once as I slid my hand up and down his shaft, fondled his balls, and slid my thumb along the slit of his large flared head.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he rasped, wriggling under me.

“Ian,” I said huskily, drilling my middle finger deeper, pressing against the spongy entrance, circling and then pressing steadily inside. “I want you to feel good.”

“I do. Just hurry.” His demand ended in a deep groan as I angled my finger forward, grazing his prostate, making him jerk in my arms. “Oh fuck!”

It was a very good sound. “Has anyone ever done this?”

“No.”

“Ian, have you? Tell me.”

“Miro,” he whimpered, “I didn’t know I would….”

“What?” I asked, stroking inside his body, relentless with my attention. “You didn’t know you would what?”

“Want this,” he rasped, leaning forward and then pushing back, jolting as he did it, rubbing over the spot that, from his reaction, no one else had ever touched.

I moved in and out, over and over, added a second finger, working him gently, slowly, relaxing his muscles in careful stages. His crown was swollen in my other hand, steadily leaking, adding to the slide of my hand over him.

He was sweating and shaking, and when I added my tongue to my fingers, he yelled my name.

“You’re doing great,” I praised softly, nibbling his ass, licking, and finally taking a gentle bite.

“I-I feel like I’m gonna break if you don’t hurry.”

Straightening up, I gently withdrew my fingers and released his dick. “Come, then, we can do this when you—”

“No, not like….” He released a huff of breath, almost crying out at the end, and I could tell from how rigid he’d gone that me not understanding was frustrating.

I was making him ready, opening him up, but also now killing him with my hesitancy.

“You need to stay still while I put on the condom.”

“What condom?”

It was my turn to jolt. “Ian, I figured when you bought lube you bought condoms.”

“Did you see them in the bag?”

No, actually, I hadn’t. “Yeah, but you know I’ve slept with a ton of guys.”

He looked over his shoulder, into my face. “Me too. Well.” He shrugged. “Girls, but we get tested every six months, and I’ve never had sex without a rubber.”

“No,” I said, coughing. “Me neither.”

He let his head drop back down. “Yeah, so, we’re good and I trust you and you’re already my best friend, so… nothing, okay? Just us.”

I was going to come inside my best friend, the man I wanted more than anything. Dear God, I wanted to keep him.

“You’re thinking too much.”

I was.

While slathering my cock with lube, I pressed fingers back inside his slick hole, scissoring them apart, over and over, firm but gentle.

“You need to push out when I push in, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Grab your dick, Ian. Get yourself off.”

“Don’t need to—” He gasped. “—do anything.”

“Okay,” I husked as I lined my head up with his pink puckered hole.

“Stop thinking,” he pleaded.

As though I could keep a thought in my head that wasn’t Ian.

Easing forward, I pushed slowly inside, then stopped, waiting, letting his body get used to the invasion, feeling his muscles clamp down around me.

Ian dropped onto the mattress, arms not able to hold him, only his ass raised as I breached him, watched him take my cock inch by inch. He was so tight, so hot, and the slide was easy despite the muscles rippling around my length.

“Miro,” he ground out, and the sound of him was annihilating.

He tensed against me, but my angle, the force of my weight, was too much. I drove deep with one fierce thrust, buried completely.

“Oh fuck,” Ian moaned, and his voice broke, cracked, and I heard when it changed to a cry.

I was about to pull back, but his arm rose fast, his hand like a vise on my thigh, holding me still, keeping me there.

“Wait.”

Of course I would; I would do anything he wanted. I was balls deep in the one man in the world I wanted my whole life to be about. Whatever he wanted, needed, I would give.

“Miro.”

But I wasn’t in control, and that was bad.

Leaning close, I ordered him to lift up, my low voice in his ear. When he rose, I wrapped an arm over his shoulder and across his chest, grabbing hold of his left pectoral as I braced us both with my left arm.

His head fell against my shoulder, and I stamped ravenous kisses to the length of his throat as my chest plastered to his back.

“Miro,” he huffed, writhing under me as I ground my hips forward, pounded into him deep and hard. “Don’t stop.”

No.

No stopping.

“You have to jerk yourself off,” I ordered as I sucked and licked and kissed his jaw, throat, and down the side of his neck to his shoulder. He tasted like salt and sweat and smelled like him, like Ian, and I wanted all of him on my tongue.

“I don’t—you have me.”

“Yes,” I croaked, moving my mouth, needing to reach his back, taste there, lick there. “I have you, I won’t let go.”

The words were necessary and I understood that.

I eased back, put Ian on his hands, took hold of his hips, and then hammered back inside.

He yelled my name.

I did it over and over, wanting to be deeper, the need desperate, to be entrenched in him, to make it so he could never forget that I’d had him, even if he tried.

Licking up his spine, I felt his muscles clenching around my shaft, tightening fast, holding me. I reached under him and grabbed his cock roughly, tugging and squeezing, and when I felt the first stream on my fingers, I let go.

“I can’t hold… Miro!”

“Just come,” I demanded thickly.

He gasped with his release, as I fucked him through his orgasm, loving the feel of his silken inner walls milking my length. He shivered as I came, pulsing within his body, semen filling his spasming channel.

“It’s warm,” he said as I collapsed over his back.

His breathing was ragged, and I thought maybe I should move, but my climax had taken everything and I needed a second to reroute blood flow.

“Don’t move, okay?” Ian murmured.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

I
WAS
careful when I slid free, moving cautiously and then shifting him sideways so he wouldn’t drop into his own cum pooled on the sheets. I rolled off the bed, went to the bathroom, and found a washcloth and towel. I cleaned myself off, and then made sure the cloth was the perfect balance of not-too-wet and not-too-wrung-out, and moved quickly back to where Ian lay collapsed.

Gently, I parted his cheeks and wiped him up, kissed the small of his back before I returned to the bathroom and hung both towels up. When I walked out, I was caught in his deep cobalt eyes and stopped where I was.

He didn’t say anything, his gaze simply moved over me, up and down and back, then locked with mine.

I cleared my throat. “Did I hurt you?”

Slight shake of his head.

“Okay.”

His eyes were so dark at the moment. I had never noticed his thick and long lashes before. The flush all over him was beautiful, but even more so were the marks I had put on him standing out starkly against his olive skin.

“Can I come over there?” I asked.

“Please.”

I hurried but diverted at the last moment to get to the thermostat. I cranked the heat up to 72 and then dived onto the bed. He turned his head to look up at me, and when he did, I saw the wicked, easy smile. It was enough.

Dumping him on his back, I sank over him, taking his mouth in a long, slow deep kiss, tasting him all over again, not letting him go until I felt his cock thicken between us.

“Damn, Doyle, your recovery time is amazing.”

“Not usually,” he murmured as I slid an arm down between us, taking hold of him, smearing the leaking precum over his crown.

“You want to put this inside of me?”

He squinted. “Is that what you want? Because you keep asking.”

I never second-guessed him. It was not something that occurred in our relationship. I never checked once he said something, but here, I was doing just that. My questions were killing him, instilling doubt, and I had to remember how he was out of bed and not mess up. Normally, I asked once. I got a yes or no and never revisited whatever topic had been discussed. I needed to treat this situation just the same, as we lay there skin to skin.