Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (12 page)

“From your tone there I take it bondage isn’t your thing?”

“It’s the sadomasochism part I’m not wild about.” Sam attempted to buck up a bit. “I don’t know about bondage. I’ve never done it.”

“What have you done? Because I will tell you, I’ve done quite a bit.” It was weird, but Mitch looked chagrined, guilty. Then the look was gone. “Where are you coming from on this, Sam? Talk to me.”

Sam did a mental review of his sexual practice. It didn’t take long. “I’ve only been with a few guys. Nobody who ever meant anything. You know about Darin. There were a few others, but they were just one-night fucks or guys I sucked off at school. Usually straight guys.” Sam hesitated. “I liked the way it made me feel. Vulnerable, but powerful too.”

“I already know you get off on direction and talking dirty.” There was heat in Mitch’s tone now. Sam wondered if Mitch was getting hard talking about this. He knew he was.

“And I know you want it a little rough,” Mitch added. “But what about games? If I tie you up, will you freak out?”

Sam had the sudden image of Mitch binding his hands behind his back and spreading his legs open. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “No. But—I don’t want to hurt.”

“What about exposure? You want this game only between us, or will you get a kick if I let other people see you’re doing what I tell you? Nobody who would hurt you,” Mitch said quickly, when Sam gave a quiet squeak. “Nobody who would make you feel bad about it.”

Sam’s head still reeled. “Maybe.”

When Mitch next spoke, his words held strange, unreadable weight. “What about more than one partner? Would—would you enjoy that?”

Yes
,
I want that so much I hurt.
But there was the odd tone in Mitch’s voice again, and Sam couldn’t tell if this was something Mitch wanted, or if it was something he didn’t. Sam hunched in his seat, wondering if he’d bit off more than he could chew.

Mitch glanced at him and grimaced. “Sorry. I’m going too fast.”

Y
ou want this so much. Don’t fuck it up by being shy.
“I like it when you make me do things, tell me what to do. When you tell me to take off my pants and touch myself or take off my clothes.” He dared a glance at Mitch. “I like having sex with you. I feel
free
when you tell me to do stuff. It’s so dirty, but with you it’s okay.” He stared out the windshield. “It’d be hot if you…made me do stuff for other people. It’s embarrassing, and I have no control, but I do. You’re
making
me be sexy, so it’s not my fault.” He blushed. “Never mind. This is stupid.”

Mitch remained quiet for another mile. Sam worried he’d broken everything already. But as they came up over a hill near a rest stop, Mitch said, “Safe word. You didn’t pick one.”

Sam blinked and tried to think. “Violet.”

“Favorite color?”

“Character. From
9 to 5
.”

“Good. Remember Violet, then.” He aimed the semi toward the rest stop. “I believe I promised you a spanking if you said that word again.”

“Wait—
wait
.” Sam held on to the dash as Mitch pulled into a parking spot. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” He locked the doors and undid his seat belt as he faced Sam. “Stand up and strip that ass bare.”

Chapter Nine

He’s teasing you.
Sam told himself this, but as he sat frozen in his seat, watching Mitch’s rigid jaw, it was a hard line to buy. Sam breathed shallowly, as if to keep from being noticed by too much movement. After a minute or so, his hand hurt, and he realized this was because he held the seat belt strap so tightly it cut into his skin.

“You remember your word?” When Sam kept blinking, Mitch added, “Your
safe
word?”

It took work to force the word out. “Violet.”

“Okay.” Mitch pointed at Sam. “Get your ass over my knee.”

No,
Sam wanted to shout, but he couldn’t, and what was weirder, he undid his seat belt and stumbled around the console and headed for Mitch, moving as if he were in a dream.

“Take off your pants.” Mitch tugged at Sam’s T-shirt. “This too. Take it all off. Right now, Sam.
Do it.
”

Sam had been ready to argue until the gruff command to
do it
. For some reason this inspired him to reach for the hem of his shirt, pull it off and toss it onto the passenger seat. He fumbled with the fastenings of his jeans because Mitch stared at his waist, and the look made all Sam’s blood run south. But when he pushed his jeans and underwear down and his phone started to tumble out of his pocket, Mitch leaned forward, steadied him and caught the phone in one motion. He put Judy into a small compartment in the dash before nodding at Sam’s jeans. “All the way off. Socks too.”

Sam undressed, dick hardening as he did so, which amazed him because a large part of him wanted to run. This was beyond stupid now. This was crazy. But oh, God, it was the most sexy thing he’d ever done in his life.

He’ll stop if I say the word.

Or would he?

Hesitating with his sock in hand, Sam looked Mitch in the eye. “Violet.”

Immediately, Mitch softened and touched his arm. “Too fast, Sunshine?”

Sam let out a breath, a two-ton weight off his chest. “Just testing.”

Mitch stayed where he was, watching Sam’s face. “So you want to keep playing? Because we don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It’s okay. We can go slow.”

“I don’t want to go slow.”

Mitch’s mouth turned up in one corner. “You’re ready to take your punishment?”

Sam nodded.

“You want me to spank you for saying you were stupid?”

Sam hesitated. Then he nodded again.

Mitch arched his eyebrows. “Say it. Tell me what you want.”

Sam did not want to say it. He wanted it to happen to him, but even as he thought that, he realized it wasn’t fair. He swallowed and tried to hold his head high. “I—I want you to…to spank me. Because I’m stupid.”

Mitch made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded disturbingly like a growl, and the next thing Sam knew he pitched forward toward the dash. He stopped at the last second, arms rigid against the panel of instrument readings or whatever they were, a knee on his stomach and another under his thigh. His bare ass stuck high in the air.

“Say it.” Mitch’s voice was tight and angry. “Tell me you’re stupid.”

“I’m stupid,” Sam said without hesitation and more than a little sass.

Mitch spanked him.

It was no gentle tap, but a smart
slap
against Sam’s bare buttocks, and it came with an accompanying smacking sound echoing loudly in the cab. Sam cried out, the sound half-recovery, half-outrage, and he tried to wriggle away.

Mitch held him in place and spanked him some more.

The sting from the first blow started to radiate, and when the second one came down, it amplified the first, and by the third Sam worked harder to get away. The more he struggled, the more firmly Mitch held him down, and by the time Mitch finished the seventh slap, Sam had learned to hold still and breathe.

After the tenth, Mitch stopped and rested his palm on the globe of Sam’s now acutely smarting ass. “Would you care to say it again?”

No, Sam would not, because he did not want to be spanked anymore. Yet there was a tightness inside him now, an anger fueled by all the hurt and shame and confusion he’d felt all day, and—well, he was stupid. “Yes,” he snarled. “Because I am. I’m
stupid
. I’m stupid, stupid, stupid,
stupid—ah!
”

The spanking resumed. It hurt from the start and with more than a little sting.
Violet,
Sam thought, but even as part of him wanted to end this, the part driving only cried out—and in a move making him feel utterly, utterly like a whore—he arched his ass up higher toward the striking palm. By the tenth strike Sam’s ass was on fire, but the burn was spreading, and his cries had become moans.

“And now?” Mitch asked, as calmly as you please. But Sam could feel Mitch’s erection poking at Sam through the jeans. He was enjoying this. A lot. If he was a whore, Mitch was too.

Good.

Sam shuddered. “I’m stupid. I’m so stupid.” He shut his eyes. “And I’m a whore. I’m a slut.”

Mitch’s laugh was a shiver of dark pleasure. “Oh, but, Sunshine, you aren’t stupid.” A finger slid down the tingling crack between his cheeks, and he gasped as Mitch’s hand closed gently around his balls. “You can be as slutty and whorish as you want, and it will never make you stupid.”

Sam’s arms had been rigid against the dash, but when Mitch stroked him, they went slack and weak. “I do stupid things when I’m slutty.”

“You’re awfully slutty right now with your bare ass all red while you hump my hand. You can make this stop any time, but you don’t. You’re running off with me to God knows where, and you all but begged me to make you my little sex toy on the way. Do you think that makes you a whore?”

Sam was, indeed, humping into Mitch’s hand, because it was stroking his cock. “Yes.”

“Do you want to be my whore, sweetheart?”

Lust, hot and thick, shot through Sam’s body. “Yes.”

“Are you stupid, Sam Keller?”

Sam hesitated.

Mitch’s finger pressed at Sam’s hole. “I’m enjoying this. I’m feeling pretty slutty myself. Am I stupid?”

“No,” Sam replied, no hesitation at all.

“Turn your head to the right.”

Sam did.

Mitch pressed his fingers gently against Sam’s lips. “Open.”

Sam complied, opening his mouth like a baby bird, shuddering when Mitch slipped two fingers inside. “Suck.”

Sam did, shutting his eyes as he remembered the last time Mitch had ordered him to do this. Except then Mitch had been so far away. Now he was right here.

And these were
Mitch’s
fingers.

Sam sucked hard, running his tongue around Mitch’s fingers, knowing very well where they were going to end up, and he wanted it, oh
God
but he wanted it. Slutty? Whorish? He could give Lady Gaga a run for her money. He loved it. He didn’t feel dirty, at least not in a bad way. He had, as Mitch had pointed out, nothing to lose.

Mitch pulled his fingers free, and Sam put his head down, spreading his legs without being asked, his dick aching at the thought of what was about to happen. But though Mitch’s finger pushed at his entrance again, it didn’t enter.

“Are you stupid, Sam?”

It’s a game,
the still-functional part of Sam’s brain warned him.
A test. If you say yes, he’ll smack you. If you say no, he will stick those beautifully wet fingers up your ass.
Sam wanted the fingers. He’d lie if he had to, to get those fingers. But apparently the part of him willing to lie was the same part that wanted to run, because it still wasn’t driving.

“I don’t know,” Sam whispered.

The leg beneath his belly shifted, but instead of spanking him, Mitch brushed his day-old beard and a faint, damp touch of lips against Sam’s spine. Sam shivered, going soft, bending his shoulders forward. Even his erection let go a touch.

Slowly, Mitch’s finger pushed inside him.

Sam rode those fingers even as he loosened himself—he’d gotten good at this part with Darin, who rarely took any time to prepare him at all, and he’d had to learn how to ease an entry or be ripped apart. Or go without sex, and given the three options, it had seemed best to learn how to open himself so well the Titanic could have entered him. All this was unknown to Mitch, of course. Sam could feel Mitch’s surprise and his pleasure as he easily added a second finger and finally a third. With just spit for lube, it was a bit tricky, Sam had to admit. But if he had any skill in bed, this was it, so he forced himself to relax further, pushing his ass up, impaling himself on Mitch’s fingers.

Mitch groaned, and so did he. Then Mitch’s fingers began to move, and Sam let himself fly away.

Within a few minutes he gasped and cried out, but he also lost his grip on the dash. Mitch did his best to hold him up, but then he swore, and the next thing Sam knew he was being turned over with Mitch’s fingers still inside him. He marveled at this shift for a second, trying to figure out how the hell Mitch had done it, but when the fingers started fucking him again, he was lucky to remember to breathe.

Mitch supported him still, but now he was able to cradle Sam into the crook of his shoulder and his elbow as Sam melted, Mitch holding him up when his head lolled. He threw Sam’s right leg over his business arm, and Sam had his foot pressed into the driver’s side headrest, which also managed to expose him to Mitch’s fingers at maximum-slut angle. Except after flailing with his left leg, which couldn’t hang to the floor and couldn’t get purchase on the edge of the seat or Mitch’s knee, he kicked it up in the air, and Mitch grabbed his calf with his left hand. Then, by God, he was well and truly trussed. Slut City, and his ass was the busy intersection.

It was fucking glorious.

“Open your eyes and watch.”

By Mitch’s command, Sam did, lifting his head groggily and staring through the sexual haze at his exposed body. He was a sea of white flesh across Mitch’s jeans, except for his cock, which bulged red—almost purple now, actually, dark hair nested around it. At the apex of his thighs was Mitch’s hand, large and strong and framed by the blond fur on his arm as it thrust three of his fingers over and over inside of Sam.