Naughty November

Chapter 6

SIX

HOLDEN

Naked except for the cock cage, pressed up against Fletcher with his hand on my ass and his hot breath sending sparks of white-hot need through my blood as it gusted over my neck was not a position I ever thought I’d find myself in.

But if I could stay just like this, pretty much forever, I would have.

Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately?—I’d promised him something else.

“Good boy,” he murmured, which felt the best kind of demeaning.

I wasn’t a boy. I was a grown man now.

But maybe demeaning wasn’t the right word for the trembling heat that hearing him say it like that put in my belly. It made me feel… submissive.

I hadn’t been sure how I felt about it when Cindy had used that word while convincing me to let her cage my dick, but a part of me yearned for it now, like one of those flowers that turned their faces up to the sun.

And maybe, with Fletcher, I could. Maybe he could be my sun.

He stepped away, snipping off the price tags still attached to the lingerie he’d found. The lacy, pretty things I’d told him I’d wear for him.

“These are new?” he murmured.

“She liked to shop,” I answered, squeezing my eyes closed as something like panic started to rise in my chest now that he wasn’t touching me anymore.

I wasn’t sure if it was really okay to call another man pretty, or how I felt about Fletcher wanting me to wear these silky girl things, but I did know that I’d do just about anything to keep him touching me.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Well, the last part was, but not knowing how I felt about it?

I felt… weird about it.

I wasn’t curvy, or soft, or particularly feminine. I was on the smaller side of average, sure, and maybe I didn’t ooze muscles and masculinity like Fletcher did, but I was still a guy. I liked being a guy. And there was most definitely a voice in my head that said that being a guy meant it probably wasn’t all that okay to be called pretty; that I shouldn’t want to wear those things for Fletch.

I felt like, if I’d still been dating Cindy, or really any woman at all, any or all of what he’d said to me would have been some kind of insult or something.

But I also felt a little thrill inside, because it definitely wasn’t an insult. Not coming from Fletcher.

“Okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, even if I wasn’t sure it was true. But I did like pretty things. I liked how they looked, I liked how they felt… and I really liked what they seemed to be doing to him .

Because he was hard. He hadn’t touched himself or said anything about it, but his dick was… well, clearly a heck of a lot bigger than mine, for one thing, but also, it was also most definitely erect now. His jeans weren’t super tight, but they were tight enough to clearly see the long, thick shaft trapped inside them.

And when he’d been rubbing Cindy’s new camisole over my thighs? That had felt so good that I knew for sure I’d have popped wood, too, if my dick hadn’t still been all locked up like this.

A delicious shiver went through me. If I was being really honest with myself, that squirmy feeling of uncertainty inside me, the one that said what he was asking me to do was a little bit wrong… kind of made it even more thrilling to tell him yes and go along with it.

Which didn’t mean there wasn’t still some little part of my brain that kept sparking in fear as I watched him hold up the decadent, feminine things.

Fear that someone would see me like this. That someone would know I was… submissive.

And that all of that somehow made me something lesser.

I squeezed my eyes shut again trying to calm my frantic breathing and focus on Fletcher.

His voice was in my head, too, calling me “perfect.” And even if my feelings about wearing pretty things were still a bit of a jumble, my feelings about that were crystal clear.

I’d do anything to be perfect for Fletcher.

“Ready?” he murmured.

I nodded, but kept my eyes closed—then drew in a ragged breath as he lifted my arms over my head and put the pretty top on me, the cool silk sliding down my body like a kiss and sending another delicious shiver through me that made my skin feel electric with anticipation.

“Open your eyes, button.”

I did, looking down at myself and then blushing hard as that voice of wrongness inside me got louder again, insisting that anyone who saw me like this would be mean about it. That I wasn’t supposed to be wearing these kinds of clothes. That while it was fine for others—I was totally supportive of people dressing however they wanted to, or changing their gender, or whatever felt right for them—it was different when it was me.

That Fletcher would look at me differently.

My breath started to come a little faster, the fear closing in again. But for some reason, that fear made my cock surge against the bars that were squeezing it so tightly, the ones that kept it from getting hard even as the fear was confused my body, making my asshole, still tingling and aware in a way it never had been before after Fletcher had put his mouth on it, clench and tighten as my dick desperately tried to thicken and swell to its full length.

But it couldn’t. It was trapped. Forced to stay small and cute and insignificant… for Fletcher .

I whined, looking up at him as my conflicted feelings crashed together inside me, leaving me reeling.

“Shhh, baby,” he said, stepping in close. Cupping my jaw with one hand and my cage with the other. “Look at me. That’s it. Good boy. So pretty. So sweet. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

I stared up into his eyes, all the chaos inside me starting to settle.

He smiled. “Okay now?”

“Yeah,” I whispered back.

His smile got wider, sexy as sin and twice as wicked. Then he stepped back and let his eyes roam over me as he smoothed a hand over the lace and silk covering my chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Jesus, baby. Look at you.”

I drew in a shaky breath. I felt too nervous to actually look down and do that again… but somehow, I’d also never been so turned on in my life.

“You really like it?” I whispered, desperately searching his face for any sign that he found it—me—ridiculous.

This silky, pretty thing might have technically fit me, but it wasn’t made for someone like me. For my flat chest. My wide shoulders. The hair on my arms—not crazy thick, but definitely more noticeable than I’d ever seen on a girl—and on my legs, too.

I clenched my hands together nervously, then suddenly seemed too aware of them. They were compact like the rest of me, but also wider than a girl’s. Veiny and just very… male .

Because that was the thing. My bodymay have been small, but it was very, very male.

I was male.

And this pretty thing Fletcher had wanted to see me in was not.

“It doesn’t look silly?” I pressed on, my voice rising a little.“You really think it’s okay?”

“Holden,” he said, something as dark and decadent as chocolate in his voice. “I don’t think it’s okay. Seeing you like this is so fucking far past okay it might just kill me. I think it’s fucking incredible. I think you are, baby. Don’t ever doubt it.”

Heat flashed through me. Fletcher did like it.

I looked down at myself again, a shiver rolling up my spine at the smooth fall of the creamy silk and the erotically obscene sight of my locked cock below its hem.

“Does being pretty like this make you nervous?” Fletcher murmured, reaching out to rub the soft material between his fingers, then using it to tug me closer.

I nodded frantically, like one of those bobble-headed dolls, a little thrill inside me that he saw that. That he saw me .

“Fuck, not just pretty, but still too fucking cute, too,” he said, grinning at me. Then he leaned in, leaned down until his lips were so close to my ear that it was almost like a kiss.

I held my breath. I wanted it to be a kiss. More than anything.

“It’s okay to be nervous, button,” he whispered, his lips brushing against me as he spoke and making me moan. “And it’s a fucking rush to know that you’re willing to push through those nerves, just because I asked you to. Because that’s why you said yes, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“For me. Just me.”

I nodded, shamelessly clutching him when my knees went weak.

And just like before, he caught me. Held me against him with one hand on my bare ass and my entire body plastered up against his.

“You want to be good for me,” he murmured, eyes searching my face and the hot ridge of his cock burning into my stomach, right through the rough denim of his jeans and the silky, feminine piece of cream-colored luxury he’d put on me. “You want to make me happy,” he went on, kneading my ass with that big hand of his. “Be pretty for me. My pretty little princess. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I blinked up at him. “Your… Your princess?” I licked my lips, nerves kicking in again. “I thought you didn’t like women.”

He chuckled. “I don’t. Not like that. But you, princess? I love that you’re willing to be so pretty for me. There’s nothing hotter than the way you look right now, hard little nipples pushing through satin as it whispers over your skin. And this … ”

He reached between us and cupped my caged cock again, making my hips thrust toward him and a frustrated whine leave my throat.

“This little thing locked away, unnecessary and unneeded while I’m in charge.”

I nodded, whimpering, because the words still sounded all wrong, deviant and embarrassing… but they felt right.

They felt perfect.

“It’s okay to like it, princess,” he murmured, releasing my cage and stepping back. “You have no idea how much I love that you trust me to push your boundaries like this. How fucking hot it is to see that rush of nerves flash through you. It’s a fucking gift.”

He rubbed his thumb over my lips, staring at my mouth for a moment, then crouched down in front of me and tapped my foot.

“Now lift this for me. That’s it. Step into these and let’s make you even prettier.”

Oh, god. The panties.

They were black, matching the trim on the camisole.

Black and lacy .

And tinier than any underwear I’d ever worn.

But they fit.

Cindy had always joked, in this almost mean way, about how she liked borrowing my jeans because our waists were the same size.But the panties? The back was cut so high that the bottom half of each cheek was left bare, and the little triangle of material in the front, barely a wisp of fabric, would never have been able to cover me... if my dick wasn’t already tucked away.

Like Fletcher had just said, unnecessary and unneeded at the moment.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out as he settled them in place, stroking my cage once he had it tucked behind the lace with so much heat in his gaze that a moan slipped out of me.

And yeah, my dick was trying and failing to get hard again, creating a twisted storm of need inside me that kept building and building with no place to go. But Fletcher was right. I didn’t need it right now. He was making me into the pretty one. The submissive one.His princess, who he could dress up for his pleasure alone .

Because he was the strong alpha male who was going to… to ravish me.

I bit my lip, blushing so hard at the direction my thoughts were tumbling in that it felt like I was going to combust. I don’t even think that word existed anymore. It was just something I vaguely remembered Everett laughing about from the trashy bodice-rippers his and Fletcher’s mom liked to secretly read when we were kids.

But if it did still exist, then I would absolutely let Fletcher ravish me.

Oh God, I might even beg him to at this point.

“You’ve been so good for me, princess,” he murmured, still crouched in front of me with his fingers gliding back and forth under the edges of the little panties. “But I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Turn around for me now, okay. Brace your hands right there on the couch and let me have this ass.”

I did it, trembling all over and not at all sure what was happening right now.

At least, not until he slipped a hand between my legs to cup my caged cock again. “Just a little longer, baby. Then we’ll get this off. But first things first.”

Oh.

Right.

He’d come over to do that. I’d pretty much forgotten. And he’d promised to… to…

“You’re going to make me come first,” I whispered, shaking all over as I did what he’d asked me to.

“That’s right, princess,” he said with a low groan, cupping my ass cheeks, one in each hand, and then pulling them apart and blowing on my quivering asshole through the lace. “Are you ready for that?”

“Yes,” I breathed out, still not sure how he could do it when my dick couldn’t even get hard, but so turned on that I hoped it was true.

“Spread your legs.”

I did, so fast it would have been embarrassing if not for the way I was too overcome with another wave of that weird, stomach-twisting version of frustrated arousal to worry about stuff like that.

Was he going to lick me again ?

Oh God. I really, really wanted him to.

But instead, he let go of my ass, and then I smelled… was that Cindy’s hair conditioner?

Before I could wonder why, he tugged on the panties, moving them to one side, and pressed a slick, slippery finger against my pucker.

It wasn’t his tongue, but it still felt so good I moaned a little.

He chuckled, then leaned in and… and bit me! Right on my ass cheek!

“You bit me,” I gasped, twisting around a little.

He grinned at me, looking so pleased with himself, so sexy , that my breath caught in my throat.

Then he pushed his finger into my ass.

“ Oh my God .”

His eyes flared with heat, the lids dropping to half mast. “That’s it, princess,” he said, pumping it in and out slowly as my ass tried to decide whether to push him out or suck him in deeper. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

I dropped my head down between my arms, panting as I realized this must be what he meant. Could I… Could I really come like this?

It felt okay. Nice? And kind of weird. But mostly nice because he was doing it to me, nothing like the kind of “nice” that I associated with comi?—

“Fletch!” I gasped when he suddenly twisted his fingers and hit something inside me that took it from nice to holyshityespleaseIhaven’tcomeindaysandneedtonownowNOW .

He laughed, low and husky. “That’s right. Didn’t I tell you that you don’t need that pretty little cock that you’ve got tucked away right now? I’m going to take care of you, princess, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you? You’re going to let me take care of everything.”

“Yes!” It came out as a sob, because he kept working that finger in and out of me, touching that spot inside that made me feel frantic, and saying… things.

Things I shouldn’t like, but did. More than I’d ever liked anything.

The way he kept calling me his princess, the way he talked about my cock—like it was so small, so insignificant, that it didn’t really matter—was doing crazy, squirmy things to my brain, almost making me wonder if I even wanted him to take the cage off.

All I knew was that I wanted to come. Oh, god, I desperately wanted to come, especially when he pushed a second finger inside me and started hitting that spot even harder.

But at the same time, I… didn’t?

He was making me feel so much, so fast, that all my inner voices finally shut off, and all that was left was the raw truth.

There was no right or wrong here. There was just Fletcher and me and the way he’d stepped in to take care of me, stripping away a whole lifetime of restrictions that had bound me even tighter than the cage on my cock.

I wanted to be small and dainty and pretty for him. To let him be the big, strong, masculine one. To let him turn me into something else, shaped just to please him.Existing only for this. For him .

“Can you take another one for me?” he murmured, his fingers spreading and twisting inside me, thrusting into me in a motion so much like sex that I couldn’t even form the words to answer him.

I just moaned and spread my legs wider.

“I fucking love you all needy like this,” he said with another of those dark-chocolate chuckles, pulling his fingers out completely.

I whined, a horrid sense of empty need crawling through me. But before it could take hold, I smelled the sweet berry conditioner again, and then he pushed back into my ass.

“Oh God,” I choked out, going up on my toes as I instinctively tried to move away from the burn. Two fingers had felt good but three was... was... “Too much!”

“No,” he said, putting a firm hand on my back and holding me in place as he kept working them in deeper. “You can take it. Do it for me, baby. I know you can. Just relax and breathe. Just like that. See? You’re already opening up for me.” He twisted his fingers, teasing them against my prostate as my thighs trembled with the overload of sensation. “Fucking hot. Your ass was made for pleasure. All you needed was the right person to give it to you.”

“You,” I gasped, any hope of censoring myself long gone. “I needed you , Fletch. Please... Please. I just want you. ”

“You’ve got me,” he growled, his fingers pushing even deeper and forcing a shocked cry out of me. “All of me. This tight ass. This soft skin. These pretty little cries you make when I give you what you need. Are you going to come for me like this, or do I need to give you more?”

“More?”

My head was spinning, my dick aching as it pressed against the bars of my cage and a deep, desperate need building inside me for something I couldn’t even name.

He drove his fingers into me again, and yes! That... That was it.

But it wasn’t enough.

“More,” I panted, trusting him to follow through even though I wasn’t sure I could take another finger. “More, please. I need you. Need this. Need?—”

“My cock,” he growled, pulling his fingers out and leaving me gasping again. “I want to fuck you, princess. Make you come while I’m buried so deeply inside you that you won’t ever remember what it feels like to be without me.”

“ Please .” It was a sob this time, a plea, a prayer, because it sounded too good to be true.

And like everything I wanted, too.