What do you like on yours?” He gave Cody the side-eye as he waited for an answer.
This was easy. “Whatever you like, Sir.”
The man frowned. “No, see I’m ordering a large meat-lovers pie for myself. The question is what would you like on your own pizza? The truth now. I’m too hot and aggravated for games, Cody.”
His heartbeat stuttered a bit at the mild rebuke. He’d thought he knew how to be a sub, but obviously not. And he took the man at his word. “I like mushrooms and anchovies, Sir.” He winced afterward, waiting for a sneer or some other indication that his choice sucked.
Instead, the man merely nodded. “Okay, then.” He tapped away at his phone before saying, “It’s on its way. I’m jumping into the shower because I can’t stand myself for another second. The delivery people usually come to the front door, so answer it if I’m not out by the time they arrive.”
Master Ford walked past a doorway as he spoke. Cody followed and found himself in a nice family room off the kitchen and opposite that morphed into a formal living room at the front of the house.
“Settle in and help yourself to the remote,” the man said before disappearing up the stairs to the second floor.
With the backpack still clutched to his chest, Cody sat on the edge of the big, sectional sofa and wondered with some trepidation as to exactly how he was supposed to ‘settle in’.
* * * *
Ford jerked his cock with a death grip, furious at it and himself for his lack of control. It was a good thing his T-shirt had been long enough to hide his constant hard-on, or poor Cody would have been getting an eyeful for the entire journey home. And Christ, wasn’t this completely crazy that he had Gage’s sub in his house—waiting for pizza, for fuck’s sake. He could picture the boy sitting on his sofa, that worn backpack clutched to his chest as if it would somehow keep him safe. The fact that the kid obviously was uncomfortable being with him should have been a boner-killer in itself. All these years he’d practiced as a Dom, Ford had always been careful to be non-threatening, to put subs at ease. Cody practically vibrated with tension and worry. Ford was damned if he knew what to do about it.
Well, getting off in the shower and forcing his dick into submission was a start. A cool shower, something that both cleaned and soothed his overheated body, should have been sufficient to deflate his shaft. As it hadn’t been, he resorted to the kind of self-gratification that embarrassed him. Sure, taking himself in hand at night with his favorite fantasies playing was fine. There was nothing wrong with a boost in getting to sleep. But this? Jerking off in the shower quickly and guiltily, as if he were afraid his mother would walk in on him? Pathetic. The images flitting across his brain, urging him on, weren’t harmless, either. This was no faceless fantasy. Everything involved Cody. Of course, it did. He pictured the way he’d found the boy, trussed prettily with his cock caged and his ass stuffed. The sheen of sweat coating his soft, creamy skin had only added to his allure. Ford had no problem picturing him in his own dungeon, bent over the spanking bench, his pert rump red from a fresh beating. He could still remember the velvety channel of the boy’s ass, tight and swollen, despite having been stretched by that enormous dildo. It took little effort to imagine the pleasure of sinking his cock balls-deep into that glorious, welcoming heat.
As Ford ripped the orgasm from his balls, he gritted his teeth and bit back the groan. He slammed one palm against the tiles to keep from keening over from the force of it all. His cum washed away quickly from the pulsing spray. If only his sense of weakness and temptation were as easily dealt with… Even with the climax, his dick didn’t entirely deflate. Shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel and rubbed his skin with brisk and brutal efficiency. He hissed as the cotton scoured his cock. Good enough for you. He threw on a longer—and baggy—T-shirt and loose sleep pants, although he held little hope that his dick would stay as hidden as he wanted. There was no point, however, in getting dressed for going out. The time on his phone told him it would