Chapter 14 Begging For Release
Cedric’s pulse hammered at the hollow of his throat while he knelt on the worn Persian rug, the weave coarse against his bare knees. Gianni stood three feet away close enough for Cedric to see the Italian silk of his charcoal shirt pull across thick shoulders.
“Im sure you can think of other ways to start paying it off," he drawls.
Gianni’s voice rolled over him and Cedric obeyed, lifting his chin, fighting the urge to hug his own chest.
He had stripped in the hallway on command, and now the air licked at every inch of exposed skin, tightening his nipples, raising goose-flesh along his arms as Gianni studied him with hunger and calculation.
He stepped forward, closing the distance until the brushed steel of his belt buckle filled Cedric’s vision. “You’re mine. Body, mouth, hole. Keep saying it until it sticks.”
The words punched the air from Cedric’s lungs harder than any fist ever had.
He’d sold himself before, but always on his own terms, quick blowjobs in cars, twenty minutes of fake moaning in pay-by-the-hour motels, then out, cash in hand.
This felt like the first time a man had actually claimed ownership of him. The primal unfairness of it should’ve sickened him; instead, heat washed through his gut and settled behind his cock, thickening it against his will.
“Tell me,” Gianni ordered.
“I’m yours,” Cedric whispered.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours, Sir.” The honorific left his tongue with surprising ease, as though it had been waiting there all along.
Gianni’s fingers carded into Cedric’s dark hair, twisting until tears sparked at the corners of his eyes. “Then prove you’re worth the trouble.” He let go and unbuckled with methodical calm, the clink of metal obscene in the hush.
Slacks dropped just enough to free his cock, heavy, half-hard, uncut, with a single vein riding the topside like a ridge of granite. The musk of him punched Cedric’s nostrils: clean skin, masculine heat, power.
Cedric’s hands shook as he steadied himself on Gianni’s thighs. Technically he already knew what to do; lips, tongue, suction, rhythm. But this felt so different.
Every flick of his tongue would be graded; every breathy gag would be remembered. He had to make this count, so maybe if he satisfied Gianni, he would keep him around longer to spy on him.
He pressed a tentative kiss to the silky crown, tasting salt and something darker, then sealed his lips and slid forward.
Gianni hissed, hips flexing, but he didn’t thrust. “Slow,” he reminded.
Cedric pulled back, letting cool air bathe the wet skin before he tried again, his jaw slackening to accommodate Gianni's widening girth.
He kept his tongue flat, pressing up, tracing that beating vein while suction fluttered gently at the tip. He heard his own heart in his ears, thump, thump, keeping time with the slick, sinful sounds his mouth made.
Gianni’s palm returned to his hair with a promise that force could come any instant.
Cedric’s knees ached; saliva dribbled down his chin, cool against his throat. Gianni thickened fully, curving upwards, the head nudging soft palate.
A low growl rumbled above him. “Better. But you’re coasting.”
Cedric flushed, ashamed. He hollowed his cheeks, drew tighter, and let the tip breach his throat on the next glide. A tremor ran through Gianni’s frame; the hand in his hair tightened enough to guide him just a little deeper.
Cedric’s own cock ached, bobbing untouched, leaking onto the rug beneath him, evidence he couldn’t hide.
“Look at me while you choke.”
Cedric’s eyes watered, but he obeyed, meeting those glacial dark irises, predator and prey merged until the line smeared.
Gianni’s hips twitched once, twice, feeding him another inch. Cedric’s throat spasmed offering resistance and surrender at once.
“Fuck…that’s it.” Gianni’s voice dropped to gravel. “Earn your keep.”
Spit slicked Cedric’s lips, chin, the shaft pistoning gently between them. He felt absurdly proud when a deeper growl rewarded him. The praise was a drug he hadn’t known he craved. His jaw burned, but he welcomed the pain, transformed it into fuel. He wanted, no, needed Gianni to see him as valuable, worth the boss’s time, worth keeping alive.
Lights sparked at the edge of Cedric’s vision, but he stayed down, nose buried in musky curls, swallowing around the thickness until Gianni’s thighs quivered.
Then, without warning, the grip in his hair yanked him off. Cedric gasped, ropes of saliva bridging his mouth to the glistening cock, humiliation and gratitude colliding in his chest.
Gianni tucked himself away. “Crawl to the bed.”
Cedric’s limbs felt like jelly, but he dropped to all fours and crossed the room, pulse drumming at his temples. He hesitated, unsure whether to climb or wait.
“Get on your back. Wrists above your head.”
Cedric complied, the cool cotton a shock against his overheated skin. Gianni followed, his knees denting the mattress, eyes raking over the lean torso, the jutting erection that betrayed how desperately Cedric’s body had surrendered even if his mind still reeled.
Gianni snapped his leather belt taut between his fists, the crack echoing.
“Hands together.”
Cedric crossed his wrists. The belt looped, firmly tying him to the headboard slats. Gianni tested the give with a tug, and the small jolt translated straight to Cedric’s cock, making it leap against his belly, smearing pre-cum in a shiny trail.
Gianni braced above him, one fist planted beside Cedric’s head, the other dragging his open shirt aside so that a thatch of dark hair and the sculpted slab of chest hovered inches away.
Cedric inhaled, tasting heat and the barest hint of cigar smoke caught in cotton. His hole clenched involuntarily, imagination already racing ahead to what might come.
“You’re twitching like a frightened bunny,” Gianni murmured, lips grazing Cedric’s ear. “Tremors look good on you.
“Please—” Cedric started, not sure what he was begging for.
Gianni silenced him with a slow, languid kiss, softly first, before turning ruthless, his tongue thrusting in the same deliberate rhythm his cock had taken moments ago. Cedric moaned into it, hips arching, seeking friction.
When Gianni pulled back, his eyes glittered. “I haven’t decided whether I’ll fuck you tonight or just make you wish I would.”
Cedric’s breath hitched. The thought of being denied, left bound and leaking, sent a fresh throb through his groin. "You can't do that... I" He gasped, "I c-can't take it. Please."
Gianni’s hand slid down, thumb rubbing the captured pulse at Cedric’s throat, then trailing sternum, navel, finally circling the base of his straining erection. He didn't stroke it, just held it, but that was enough to make Cedric’s whole world zero in on that touch.
“Please, Sir,” Cedric rasped, shameless now. “Touch me."
Gianni growled under his breath, muttering something in that hot Italian accent Cedric was getting addicted to.
He released the cock, letting it slap against Cedric’s stomach, then slipped lower, palms pushing thighs apart until knees bent, opening him obscenely. A blunt fingertip traced the seam behind his balls, ghosting over his hole with feather lightness. Cedric’s spine tried to curl upward against the restraints; a whimper escaped, high and raw. "Please... Please."
The finger paused, pressing but not penetrating. “This is mine too,” Gianni stated. “Every inch. And you’ll take what I give, when I give it, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Cedric’s voice cracked. His entrance fluttered, greedy, clenching around nothing, slick fear and need mingling until he couldn’t separate them.
Gianni leaned in, close enough that his beard stubble scratched Cedric’s cheek. “Good.” He nipped the lobe, then drew back, unhurried, rolling the shirt off his shoulders so that muscle, scars and ink rippled in the dim light.
Cedric lay tethered, chest heaving, cock drooling onto his abdomen, pulse thundering in his ears so loudly he almost missed Gianni’s final murmur:
“Let’s see how loud a beggar you become before sunrise.”