Any other time he would have said something there. That’s a very specific denial, maybe. But he sensed something fragile here. Like pulling a thread. If it snapped, he might never find it again. He waited until she started speaking again.
“Why do I like to tease you? Because I know you like it and I like making you happy. But also I like that I can do it to you. That it’s not just what happens when I’m around but something I can choose to make happen, by what I say and what I do. And I like that you won’t do anything I don’t want, no matter how much I wind you up.” She glanced away, suddenly shy. “It’s a bit of a power trip.”
He tilted her face back to him and drew her into a kiss.
“Anyway,” she said, pushing away, suddenly brusque. “Are you ready for that quickie now?”
“I would love a quickie now.”
“But do you deserve a quickie?” She slid down and ground herself against him. “Maybe what you deserve is a nice slow hand job.”
“Oh, no, please, honey, no more of that. I can’t take any more.”
“Poor baby. Poor desperate baby.” She clucked in mock sympathy, continuing to grind on him. “Why am I so mean to you? It’s just not fair!”
He tried to thrust against her, but she lifted herself away. He flopped back, defeated. He had created a monster.
“Oh, my…You look absolutely broken.” She stared down at him, her face thoughtful. Then she said, “Fine. What do you want?”
“Sorry?”
“Silly boy, I’ve decided to be nice to you. Hurry up and take advantage before I change my mind. What’ll it be?”
“You know, you don’t have to go from full tease to some super-compliant order-off-the-menu thing. What do you want to do?”
She looked a little embarrassed. “I want to give you a hand job. I like giving you hand jobs.”
“Well, then, I’d like a hand job.”
She put a bit of lube on her hand. He stopped her. “Could we…I know you often like to give me another hand job after I’ve come. Could we…not? Just today. My penis is kind of sore already.”
“One hand job,” she promised him.
He let her take his penis in her hand. He was trembling within a few strokes. “Please, miss,” he said.
“Ssh. We’ll have plenty of time for that next weekend. Today you get to come whenever you like.”
He let himself ejaculate instantly, thrusting hard into her hand before falling limply back into bed. When he could focus his eyes again, he saw her staring at her own hand. It was covered in come and lube.
“What’s wrong?”
“You asked me to stop after one hand job because it would hurt to get erect again immediately.”
“Yeah?”
She locked eyes with him. She brought her hand up to her face. Her tiny pink tongue darted out and touched one finger.
He moaned as he started to get hard again.
She licked slowly from the heel of her hand to the tip of her middle finger.
“Not fair,” he cried. “Not fair. Oh, this hurts. You understand that? You’re hurting me.”
“Do you want me to stop?” she taunted.
He moaned wordlessly, torn between the ache in his rapidly rising penis and the gleeful cruelty on her face.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“You’re an evil woman. Why do you do this to me?”
“I want to get this come off my hand,” she said innocently. She licked a drop off her lips, making a five-second production of it, the most obscene thing he had ever seen. “Look, it’s dripping down my wrist.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “You can’t make me watch. You can’t make me.”
He heard a loud slurping noise. She smacked her lips dramatically. “Mm, you’re missing quite a show. I don’t know when I’ll ever do this again. Are you sure you don’t want to watch?”
He was rock hard. It ached from the very tip to somewhere deep down inside him. Defeated, he opened his eyes.
She was radiant. Staring deep into his soul the entire time, she sucked each finger down to the knuckle. She lapped at the palm of her hand. She turned to the back of her hand and sucked every drop out from between her knuckles.
Finally, she was done. “Did you enjoy your hand job?” she asked.
“I hate you.”
“But are you proud of me?”
He nodded grudgingly. “How did you ever think of that?”
“I don’t know. It just came to me. I get a lot of ideas around you. You’re like my muse.”
“Good grief.” A thought occurred to him. “And since when do you even do this?”
“Do what?”
“Eat it. You don’t do blow jobs.”
“It was my first time. And, no, it did not taste good. Warm and slimy and kind of chemical. I’m not sure how to describe it. Bad. But totally worth it.” Her eyes fell on the remaining come still pooled on his belly.
He followed her gaze. “No. Absolutely not. You horrible woman. You’ve had your fun. Give my poor penis a break.”
She chuckled. “Okay. Let me get you a towel.” But she didn’t move. Instead she asked, “How much does it hurt? To get another erection immediately afterward?”
“It’s not much worse than walking the day after heavy squats,” he assured her. “I was hamming it up.”
“Oh. Okay.” He couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed.
She cleaned him up. They each used the bathroom, then came back to bed and cuddled lazily well into the morning.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. He cleaned the kitchen. She cleaned the bathroom. She insisted they re-arrange the furniture in the living room very slightly. They went to the produce market, the grocery store, the fishmonger’s, strolling hand in hand through the aisles. He steamed them some crabs and they sat around picking out the meat and dipping it in black vinegar. Normal stuff.
Every time she stuck a crab leg into her mouth he couldn’t help but see her finger there instead. It wasn’t enough to get him erect but by the end of the meal his groin ached dully.
She looked at the crab juice and vinegar on her hands. She caught his eye. Her mouth quirked.
“No,” he said. “Stop. Use a napkin, you animal.”
She lifted her hand. Her tongue was a flash of pink.
He thrust a napkin at her. When she made no move to take it, he threw it over her head.
“The crab tastes so much better,” she murmured, slurping loudly from underneath the napkin.
He buried his face in his hands, heedless of the crab juice he was smearing across his face. She laughed deep from her belly, delighted at how easily she could push his buttons. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
By Monday, the hood was only 15 miles away. He looked up the address. It was the last sorting before his local post office. It’d be here by Tuesday.
On Tuesday, it was still there, 15 miles away. Of course it was.
On Wednesday, he started to worry. He entertained brief fantasies of ordering it again with overnight shipping, even going so far as to price it out. Then he closed the tab.
It was just sex, he reminded himself. Fun, exciting, but he had to keep things in perspective.
On Thursday it was at his post office. By noon it was out for delivery. Maybe it would be there by the time they came home from their walk.
Indeed, his phone dinged while they were at the park. She glanced at him. He shook his head, leaving his phone in his pocket. They walked onward.
After a few minutes, she said, “And then a rat came up and starting telling me about this entire slice of pizza he found last week, sitting there on the stairs.”
He blinked.
“So what was the last thing you remember me saying?”
He smiled weakly. “Sorry, try again. I’ll pay attention.”
“Did the mask come? Was that the shipping update we heard?”
He pulled out his phone. Yes, it was.
“Do you want to head back?”
“No, it’s fine.”
She looked at him.
“Well,” he said, “it’s almost time anyway.”
She giggled. Then leaned in and whispered, “Am I teasing you too much? For in the park.”
“We’re just talking about shipping delays,” he reassured her.
He made her start over on their way back, and forced himself to pay attention this time.
There was no package by their door when they got back. A few letters but no package.
“Sometimes if they’re running late they mark it delivered and then actually deliver it the next day.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’ll probably be here tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to tease you extra tonight when you put my heels on?” she asked.
“No, it’s fine.”
“I’m getting pretty good with this latest pair. I could take you for a lap around the house on a leash. Make you kiss my shoes every time we stop. Ooh, maybe I’ll jerk on the leash if you aren’t quick enough to get kissing.” She screwed her face up into an exaggerated snarl and bobbed one fist in the air as if yanking on his leash.
He couldn’t help but smile at her antics. “Is this your way of being nice to me now?”
“Well, I’m planning to be pretty mean to you this weekend, hood or no hood.”
“Right!” He shook his head at his own stupidity. “I don’t know how these got mixed up in my head but of course I can be your little toy even without the hood.”
“I will insist on it,” she promised him. “So, shall we go for another walk?”
He kissed her tenderly. “It’s very sweet of you to offer. But it’s a weeknight.”
“We’ll save it for the weekend, then.”
The package did come Friday, a little Tyvek envelope mixed in with the letter mail. She handed it to him. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
He pulled the glued tab open. It was a shapeless little wad of fabric inside. He shook it out and handed it to her.
“Hmm, nice and soft,” she said approvingly.
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