Playing with Fire Page 7

  When his orgasm hit, I felt it through me, felt his cock swell inside my channel, his body tremble against mine. Damon fused our mouths in a lingering kiss, his hands on my chest, my face, my neck, his touch gentle. I cupped his nape and returned his kiss, sighing into his mouth when he rotated his hips once again, his dick still inside me.

  When Damon finally became still, I put my arms around him. “That was amazing,” I sighed.

  Damon caressed my cheek and smiled. “And not what you were expecting?”

  I laughed, and his softened cock slipped from my body. Damon grabbed hold of the condom and removed it carefully. Once he’d dropped it into the trash can beside the bed, he settled back on top of me, his body between my legs.

  “That was so not what I was expecting,” I confessed. My body was warm and sated, and there was a delicious ache that I knew would remain with me for a while.

  Damon nodded. “I like to keep you on your toes,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

  It was only then that the thought occurred to me. At some point in the… proceedings, I’d stopped waiting for Damon to revert to the man who’d had me fastened to his St. Andrew’s Cross, and I’d simply let myself enjoy what was happening. And yes, it had not been what I expected—in some strange way it had been better. Hotter.

  “Put it this way. After that performance, I have no idea what’s coming next.” Then it struck me I was being presumptive. “That is, if anything is coming next,” I added hastily.

  Damon snickered. “Funny you should say that.” He rolled off me and lay on the bed next to me. “What are you doing in two weeks’ time? The weekend of September 26?”

  I did a quick mental calculation. “I think I’m free, as far as I can remember. Why?”

  “There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.” He cocked his head to one side. “Have you ever been to the Folsom Street Fair?”

  Just the words were enough to make my gut roll over. “No,” I said, drawing out the syllable, “but I’ve always wanted to. I’ve never had the nerve, I suppose.” Plus there was no way I’d go there on my own.

  Damon beamed. “That settles it. You’re coming with me.” His gaze narrowed. “Except there’s something we’ll have to take care of before we can go.”

  “Oh?” For some reason my stomach churned.

  He nodded. “You and I are gonna pay a visit to Mr. S. I’m not gonna have my boy look out of place.”

  Mr. S? I knew the name, of course. Mr. S Leather. The place for all things leather in San Francisco. Not to mention a variety of toys and implements for the kinky at heart.

  Then it hit me. What I’d almost missed.

  “Your… your boy?” My chest tightened.

  Damon nodded once more, his smile fading. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

  Gone was the Damon I’d known so far. This Damon was deadly serious.

  This matters to him. This is important.

  When realization came, it struck with such force that I was left dumbfounded.

  Yes, I was interested. And yes, it mattered to me too.

  I said the only words that would do, given the circumstances.

  “Yes, sir.”

  LIMITS

  Pete finally gets to go to the Folsom Street Fair.

  It’s a weekend for exploring his limits.

  But ultimately it’s Damon’s limits that are challenged.

  Limits

  A Shopping Trip

  I was a kid in a candy store. Only thing was, I didn’t know where to start.

  I made straight for the leather shorts, kilts and pants, and fuck, the smell of them was enough to make my dick hard. Then there were the outfits in rubber, not really my thing but it takes all sorts, right?

  The collars, ball-gags, tawses, floggers and whips. Holy fuck.

  Then there was the wall—an entire wall—full of dildos that could have been Emmy awards, they were so pretty. Not to mention fucking huge. Bronze, black, you name it, Mr. S Leather provided it. Some of them made my eyes water, just thinking about something that size getting anywhere near my hole, let alone in it.

  What really caught my attention was the glass cabinet in the center of the store.

  Cock rings, a mouth-watering selection. Wicked-looking sounds in all sizes and materials. And fiendish implements that made me want to wince and drool, all at the same time. Spikes, designed to deliver exquisite torture to some lucky boy’s cock and balls.

  It was a kink lover’s paradise, and Damon had turned me loose in it.

  Not that I fit into that category, you understand. I was merely a wannabe kink lover. I stood by the rack of leather shorts, my gaze glued to the widescreen TV suspended from the ceiling, which was showing a hardcore BDSM scene featuring a couple of porn actors that I recognized instantly.

  How many guys watch this and fight the urge to jerk off in the store? My palm was itching to wrap itself around my dick.

  A throat cleared. “When you’re done salivating…”

  Damon stood behind me, watching me, a big shit-grin all over his face.

  Oops.

  I gave a sheepish shrug. “Well, what did you expect when you brought me here?”

  Damon arched his eyebrows. “Down, boy. We’re here on a mission. We need to find you something to wear for tomorrow.” His grin widened. “And I know just where to begin.” He crooked his finger, beckoning me to follow him to a stand full of… shorts and jocks.

  Holy Fucking Hell, they left nothing to the imagination. I stared at the really short shorts, that looked like they would fit extremely tightly across my crotch. Damon pulled out one pair and handed them to me. “Hold onto those. You’re gonna try them on in a moment.”

  The leather was black, shiny and God, it was thin. “Damon, if I wear these, anyone who gets within several feet of me is going to know I’m cut.”

  There was that grin again. “That’s the general idea.” He returned his attention to the rack. “Now what we need is a leather jock. Something with easy access, but nice and tight to show off that gorgeous cock.” He riffled through the garments, before pulling one from the array with a triumphant noise. “There. Perfect. Those buttons on the front and that zip mean you’ll be able to get your dick out at a moment’s notice. It also means I get quick access to your shaft. I call that a win-win situation.” He thrust the item into my hand.

  I gazed at the skimpy garments, and it was only then that the thought came to mind. “Er… where am I going to be wearing these?”

  Damon folded his arms across his wide chest. “The shorts are for tomorrow, when we’re visiting the street fair.”

  “And what will I be wearing with them?” I had a sneaking feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “Boots.”

  “Boots,” I repeated heavily. “That… that’s it?”

  Damon laughed. “Of course not.”

  I heaved an internal sigh of relief.

  “You’ll have a collar on, and I’ll attach a leash to that.”

  Oh. My. God. He was going to make me walk through the streets of San Francisco in nothing but boots, a jock and a collar. “You don’t think I’ll attract a bit of attention in that outfit?” I had to admit, the prospect was both scary as shit… and sexy as fuck.

  Damon snorted. “You and the rest of the submissives. If you’re that bashful, you can cover up, dainty boy, until we get there. Then you get to strip and show off that gorgeous bod.” He pointed toward the changing area, a couple of cubicles that were separated from the store by green curtains. “Try on the shorts first, then get your ass out here. I want to see how they look on you.”

  “You and everyone else in the store,” I muttered as I walked toward the one empty cubicle. Of course, if Damon was going to have me marching down Folsom Street in this getup, maybe I’d better get used to the idea pretty damn quick.

  I pulled the curtain, kicked off my shoes and squirmed out of my jeans. My first thought was that I’d need talcum powder to get my ass a
nywhere near the shorts. I held them open, stepped into them and tugged them up. One glance in the mirror sent a thrill of anticipation humming through me.

  “Fuck, you can see every vein in my dick,” I muttered.

  “Sounds good to me.” Damon’s voice right on the other side of the curtain made me jump. “Now get out here so I can see for myself.”

  My heartbeat still racing, I stepped beyond the green curtain to where Damon awaited me, still grinning, the bastard. His gaze flickered down to my crotch and he nodded slowly. “Very nice. Very nice indeed.” He moved closer and grabbed my ass, squeezing the cheek hard, his other hand palming my full erection that the shorts merely served to exaggerate. “Have I ever told you what a gorgeous cock you have?”

  “You might have mentioned it,” I said breathlessly, pushing into his touch.

  Of course, the teasing black-hearted bastard took his hand away at that point.

  He swatted me on the butt. “Okay, now show me the jock.” He propelled me toward the changing booth again, his hand to my back.

  Getting out of a pair of skin-tight leather shorts is a good deal more difficult than getting into them.

  The jock just about held my dick captive, the leather snug against my skin, the zipper biting into my shaft a little where it strained to be released. I tried to peer over my shoulder to see what my ass looked like. Damn, they need two mirrors in here.

  I pulled back the curtain to find Damon in conversation with another guy, seemingly discussing the camo leather shorts the stranger was trying on. The guy had his back turned to me, but even so, there was something familiar about him. He was about five feet nine, a solid mass of muscle, broad across the back, his biceps thick. Before I could say a word, Damon’s gaze met mine.

  “Eyes to the floor, Pete, arms by your sides. And stay like that until I tell you otherwise.”

  What the fuck? I’d have thought it a joke, except I knew that tone of voice by now. Quickly I lowered my gaze.

  “Just here to get some trappings for tomorrow.” This was obviously meant for the stranger.

  “You’re going to the street fair? Awesome! You’ll have to come by and say hi. I’ll be working the Mr. S booth.” There was a pause. “They look like a really nice, tight fit.”

  “Turn around,” Damon instructed me.

  His firm tone sent a shiver straight to my balls. Fuck. I was getting to love it when he talked to me like that. I held myself still, pulse racing.

  “Fuck, that’s a gorgeous ass,” the guy said, his deep resonant voice reminding me a little of Damon. “May I?”

  Damon chuckled. “Be my guest.”

  I held my breath to keep from gasping when the guy stroked a warm hand over my ass. “Have you ever marked him?”

  “Only with my hand, but it’s definitely on my list.” Another hand, this one Damon’s, gently squeezing me.

  I stood there in the middle of the store while two men fondled my ass, discussing marking me with… God knows what. Not something I’d ever seen coming—well, only in my fantasies.

  Then it was over, and they released me.

  “You can turn around now,” Damon told me.

  I faced them, my dick harder than ever. All it took was Damon clearing his throat to have me remembering where I was supposed to be looking. The guy spoke up. “Ooh. And that’s even nicer. You’re a lucky man, Damon.”

  I was listening. That brief glimpse of the guy had fired up something in my brain. And that voice. I knew that voice.

  “Thanks. But you’re right about those shorts. They need some sort of a pouch built in.”

  “Tell me about it,” the guy groaned. “It’s way too tight across my dick. And speaking of which, I’d better get out of them. Don’t forget to come say hi tomorrow.”

  Damon answered for me. “We will.”

  The guy stepped back into the other changing booth. I was doing a really bad job of trying not to appear like I was peeking.

  “The jock looks good.”

  With a start I realized Damon was talking to me. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

  He chuckled. “Get dressed. I’ll be over there when you’re done.” He pointed toward… that center glass cabinet. The one with all the fiendish devices.

  My heart skipped a beat. Is he going to …?

  “Pete. Clothes. Now.”

  Yeah. Okay. Don’t think about it.

  “Pete.”

  I knew that tone. I hurried into the booth and removed the jock. When I was dressed, I exited the booth. The next door one was empty and there was no sign of its occupant. I walked over to Damon, who was peering at a display of cock rings and butt plugs. He straightened as I approached, the two items in my hand.

  He took them from me. “I’ll just get these, and then we’re out of here.”

  It was then that I noticed the black plastic bag at his feet.

  Damon’s been shopping. And whatever he’s bought, he’s not telling.

  My balls tingled and my palms grew clammy.

  I followed him to the cash desk, waiting to one side while he paid. I glanced around, noting all the huge photos displayed at ceiling height, showing gorgeous men in Mr. S gear. One such photo sent a shockwave rippling through me.

  “Holy fuck.” Now I remembered where I’d heard that voice before.

  “Anything wrong?”

  I spun around to stare at Damon, who was still wearing that perpetual grin of his.

  “You might have told me.” I knew it came out as a whine, but Jesus…

  Damon opened his eyes wide. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Yeah, right.

  I pointed to the graphic. “That was him, wasn’t it? In the changing booth?”

  “Possibly.”

  The bastard. Of course he’d known.

  I took a calming breath. “I was talking to Dirk Caber and you said nothing? Do you have any idea how many of his films are on my hard drive? I’ve been jerking off to him for the last four years, for Christ’s sake.” Then it hit me. “Oh my fucking God—Dirk Caber grabbed my ass.” One of the hottest porn stars I’d ever seen had fondled my ass. Hell, he’d admired my dick.

  “Don’t tell me—you didn’t recognize him with his clothes on. Didn’t I tell you?” Damon smiled. “He’s a friend of mine.”

  Some recollections clicked into place. BDSM videos, shot right here in San Francisco. Dirk asking for permission before he squeezed my ass. Asking if Damon had marked me yet. “Oh God,” I moaned. “He’s another Dom, isn’t he?”

  Damon nodded. “And a damn good one.” He leaned closer. “You did me proud, boy.”

  Wow. It was amazing how fucking good those four words made me feel. “I did?” A surge of warmth spread throughout my body, and I stood up straight.

  Damon chuckled. “And that’s enough ego stroking for now. I’m taking you home, and after we’ve had dinner, you and I are going to have a little chat.”

  “Oh? What about?”

  My skin prickled when his gaze met mine. “There are a few things we have to get straight before tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Hate to tell you this, but neither of us is straight.”

  He smacked my ass, right there in front of the guy behind the cash desk.

  “Hey, that hurt!”

  Damon guffawed. “Boy, you’ve had worse from me, so don’t give me that shit.” His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, we need to make sure your head’s in the right space for tomorrow.”

  The urge to laugh ebbed away, and there was that tingling all over my arms and back again. Whatever he was going to talk about was obviously serious.

  I sobered. “Yes, Sir.” I was a fast learner. If I wanted to please him, I called him Sir.

  He grunted and thrust the plastic bag containing my new shorts and jock into my hands. “Now get that pretty ass out of here.”

  That grunt was typical Damon, but the slow smile was something new.

  I liked that I’d put it there.


  * * * * * *

  I loaded the dishwasher before taking a last glance around the kitchen. Every surface was devoid of clutter, just how I liked it.

  “You can learn a lot about a man from looking at the way he lives.” Pete stood in the doorway, arms folded.

  I arched my eyebrows. “Is that so? And what does my house tell you about me?”

  “That you like everything just so. Neat. Tidy. You like order.”

  I snorted. “I’m a fucking Dom. That much you could have worked out without ever stepping across my threshold.”

  He nodded. “Sure, but what I see confirms what I already know.”

  I handed him a mug of coffee and gave him a hard stare. “I thought I told you to go sit on the couch and wait for me.”

  Pete bit his lip. “Are you always this bossy, even when you’re not fucking me?”

  I pointed. “Living room. Now. Before I decide to pull down those tight jeans and take my paddle to your ass.”

  He walked away from me, snickering.

  Yeah, the little shit would probably enjoy that. I was starting to get the measure of him. There were an awful lot of holes, however. Tonight was going to be a kind of ‘fill in the blanks’ session.

  I followed him into the living room and nodded in approval to find him sitting as instructed, his hands wrapped around the mug. I sat beside him and leaned back.

  “How old are you?”

  Pete blinked and laughed.

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  He gave a casual shrug. “It seems a funny question, given the circumstances.” When I said nothing but stared at him, he smiled. “You know how to make me scream when we fuck, how to push my buttons, but when it comes down to it, you don’t know a whole lot about me, do you?” His eyes sparkled. “I guess it’s a matter of ‘need to know.’ You don’t need to know all that shit when all we do is fuck.”

  Except we were past that, after I’d taken him to Mama’s birthday meal.

  Before I could come back with a sharp retort, he relaxed into the couch. “I’m twenty-eight.”