Page 51 of His Dad Will Do
He takes his sweet time about it, licking me open, pressing at my taint with his thumbs, and I let the sensations wash over me. My nipples stiffen, my dick aches, and my balls draw up, but the rest of me is a gooey puddle of simmering pleasure.
I lose track of time while he licks and nibbles and prods at me with his tongue, until he comes up for air and stretches over me for the lube on the nightstand. He slicks his cock up, shuffles forward on his knees, and lines himself up at my entrance.
I’m so relaxed that the blunt head of his dick only burns a little as he presses forward. He pulls out, dribbles more lube over himself, then slides his hands under my hips and lifts me to meet him. He pushes inside me steadily, forcing my insides to rearrange to accommodate him until he’s seated all the way.
My hole is stretched wide around my Daddy’s cock and there’s nothing I can do but lie here and take him. My skin flushes cold, then hot, and I’m waiting for him to move, but he’s looking down and all I can see is the top of his head. His hair is mussed and there’s a bit sticking up. I’d smooth it down if I had use of my hands, but I don’t, so instead, I just look at how the silver strands mix with the dark ones and bask in the knowledge that I’m his.
“I wish you could see how pretty you look, stretched around my cock, baby boy.” Logan finally looks at me and that tiny smile is back again. I smile back at him. My brain is too quiet to make words, but he seems to understand, because a look of satisfaction washes over his face. Like he knows why I can’t speak, because he’s the one who put me in this place where my brain doesn’t have to work.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, baby. You tell me yellow or red if it’s too much for you.”
It won’t be. I know it. I close my eyes in anticipation, but Logan says, “No. Eyes on me, boy. You can come whenever you want, but keep your eyes open and on me.”
I almost come right then. I snap my eyes open and gaze at him. His expression is serious now, his eyebrows drawn together, his lips firm. He looks powerful and intimidating, despite being naked and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
He pulls out slowly, nearly all the way, until the fat head of his dick stretches me even more. Then he bends forward, plants one hand on the bed next to my armpit, slides the other farther under me to the small of my back, and shoves back inside me in one hard thrust.
He sets a punishing rhythm, driving from where his knees are wedged under my bound legs. His eyes bore into mine while he saws in and out, grinding over my prostate with almost every stroke. It burns and burns and there’s no escape from it, or him, until it stops burning at my hole, but then it’s fire licking along all my nerve endings.
My dick steadily leaks onto my belly. Sweat from Logan’s chest drips onto me and mingles with my own sweat. I come eventually, my orgasm rolling over me like a tidal wave, and though my vision fades and the image of him above me swims in duplicate, I keep my eyes open, like he commanded me.
Logan ignores my softening dick and the come splashed all over both of us. He punches into me, over and over, harsh panting breaths washing over my heated skin, guttural moans and grunts in the back of his throat. I’m loose and pliant beneath him and his thrusts shake the bed and me in my bonds.
And then he shoves into me, hard, and stops. A long, low groan falls from his mouth and I feel him pulse inside me. He’s still staring down at me and I’m as caught by the expressions of love and need and satisfaction on his face as I am in his ropes. If my legs were free, I’d wrap them around his hips to keep him here as long as I can.
Twenty-Seven
Logan
The buzz of my phone on the nightstand early Monday morning doesn’t wake me, since I’ve been awake for a while now, playing with strands of Silas’s hair and trying to decide how much work I can pass off on someone else so I can spend the day in bed with him.
It doesn’t wake Silas, either, though he turns over within the circle of my arms and buries his head between the pillows.
I ease my arm from under him and turn over myself to snag the phone and check the display.
It’s Lance.
Probably best if I take this now, while Silas is still asleep. I swing my legs from under the covers and disentangle the lounge pants I’d abandoned on the floor last night from the ropes that I’d tossed off the bed after untying Silas. I pull the pants on, grab the closest shirt to hand, then close the door softly behind me.
The call’s gone to voicemail by the time I get downstairs but Lance’s generation doesn’t leave voice messages—it’s a wonder he tried calling in the first place, instead of texting—so I tap the missed call notification and tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear to free my hands to start the coffee.
“Dad.”
“Son.”
There’s silence on Lance’s end and I let it stretch out while I fill the electric kettle and grind some beans for the French press.
“What’s up?” I finally say.
A huff like Lance used to make when he was a surly teenager and then he says, “You’re fucking my ex-boyfriend, Dad. That’s what’s up.”
“Key word being ‘ex’ there, kiddo,” I say. “And what the fuck, Lance? You couldn’t have broken up with him before finding someone new to suck your cock?”
“I didn’t…” Lance starts, then corrects himself before I have to argue with him. “I mean, okay, I did, but I didn’t mean for it to go down like that. I didn’t set out to cheat on him, Dad. Things haven’t been working between me and Silas for a while, and I don’t know, I just…got restless or something. It was a spur of the moment thing and it didn’t even mean anything.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing with a member of the catering staff my firm hired for its holiday party, Lance. Do you even understand the position you put me in?”
“I fucked up, Dad, I know. And I’m sorry. I already apologized to Silas. So, now I’m apologizing to you. And to your firm and whatever.”
