“You haven’t even asked me who you’re going to be. Surely you must be wondering what I have up my sleeve.”
He frowned up at me. “I don’t care who I’m going to be. I care about why all of a sudden you completely shut me down like I’m nothing to you.”
“You’re not nothing,” I said, because it was the truth.
“Then—”
“What are you to me?” I asked sharply before I could stop myself.
“As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m your boyfriend.”
What a safe answer that was. “And you and I both know that’s not—look. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m serious, Darren. I need to get you done up so you can finish downstairs so I can get ready for tonight.”
“This isn’t over.” His hands were on my hips, pulling me toward him, so much so that my knees were pressed right near his crotch, the outline of his dick and balls evident as he slid slightly down in the chair, his underwear pulling up against him. His fingers dug into my sides and I wondered what it would look like to be bruised by him, the outline of his fingers against me. To be marked. Owned, in a way.
He sat up in the chair and curled his hands around to my back, his fingers resting on my ass, using me to sit up straight, his biceps flexing against my sides. He looked up at me, his chin pressing against my stomach. “I don’t know what happened,” he said quietly and I could feel every word he spoke. “I don’t know what I did or what you think I did. But this isn’t over, Helena. Not by a long shot.” With his eyes never leaving mine, he pressed a gentle kiss to my stomach before sitting back in the chair, all that skin on display.
He smirked up at me.
I scowled down at him because how dare he.
He asked, “So, what are you making me up as?” and sounded smugger than I’d ever heard him before.
He seemed to have forgotten who he was fucking with.
The Homo Jock King needed to be put in his place.
I was all Helena when I slowly reached out and gripped his chin in my hand, rubbing my thumb just under his bottom lip.
I was all Helena when I grinned at him and pressed my knee none too lightly up against his balls, causing him to gasp.
I was all Helena when I leaned over and brushed my lips over his forehead, sticky and sweet while he squirmed in my grasp.
His smirk was fading.
His pupils dilated as I pressed my knee just a tad bit harder, enough to feel the weight of his cock and balls pressing against me.
Goose bumps broke out along his shoulders, prickling his skin.
His fingers twitched in his lap, like he wanted to reach for me but decided against it.
What a good boy he was. Keeping his hands to himself.
He deserved a reward.
When I spoke, Helena Handbasket was in control, just the way she liked it. Him too, if the way he was trembling in my grip meant anything.
He wouldn’t get something like this from fucking a hipster twink, that was for sure.
Interesting.
“Tell me, baby doll,” I purred, digging my nails into his cheeks just to watch him blush. It was a wondrous thing. I leaned over, and when I spoke again, my lips were brushing against his ear and how he shuddered. “Just how familiar are you with late nineties seminal classic songs that changed the pop landscape forever?”
“Um,” Darren said, voice scratchy and weak. “Not very?”
“For shame,” I said, sighing directly into his ear.
He made a slightly strangled noise that I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “So shameful.”