Page 77 of Dangle

“I wasn’t scared of you. More like of myself? Of letting someone in? You said that if we did…if we did…this…what you proposed, it would be exclusive. It would be real.”

He nodded. “I’m too old to play games, Trey. I’ve played all I want to play. I want something real. Besides that, I respect myself and you too much to use you that way.”

We were a nodding pair, given my head bobbed in response.

“I know that now, but I was still in some weird situationship with a couple of teammates who thought we were moving toward something more. Something they both thought I knew they wanted and something they thought I wanted as well.”

“At the time…so…”

“Over. I’ve not had sex with either or both of them since before Nashville.”

“Before?”

“Since before our last game. Something about the way you looked at me when I came out of the box…”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Slone. I am.”

“What are you sorry for, Trey?”

I sighed. I didn’t really know. I just knew I was.

“I’m sorry I deflected this conversation the day I showed up here. I’m sorry if you worried there was a reason for my silence.”

He pulled me to him, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. I loved the feral, sexy Daddy Dom—not that I called him that yet—but I loved this sweet, loving side of him, too. Our lips parted, and he rested his forehead against mine.

“We agreed to respect each other and have conversations about the things that bother us the day we worked out the rules. Communication is key, especially while we’re getting to know each other and learning what works for us and our dynamic. And now that we’ve gotten tested and ditched the condoms. Hiding, either by not maintaining eye contact or not contacting or avoiding the other person or topic, can be detrimental and create distrust.”

“But…” I pressed, since the thought felt unfinished.

“But sometimes waiting to have a conversation until you feel comfortable and safe and settled is better than rushing into it too soon.”

“You are so smart.” I meant for the word Daddy to come after those words, but it got stuck in my throat.

“So are you, baby boy.”

I slipped off his lap onto the floor, pushing his legs apart. “I want you in my mouth,” I whispered, pulling at the waist of his joggers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I just need you.”

“Ah! My bratty, little cockwarmer wants to edge himself before he gets fucked.”

“Yes!” I gasped.

“I’m so fucking lucky to have such a smart, little slut. Daddy wants his boy, too,” he muttered, lifting his hips to push the pants off his knees while moving out of the corner of the sofa so his legs bracketed me.

I folded his pants and placed them on the sofa within easy reach instead of throwing them over my shoulder. Slone’s preference. I didn’t give a fuck, but I enjoyed pleasing him. He held out the cushion he presented me with the first time he put me on my ass, never my knees, to warm his cock. That cushion now lives in the corner of the sofa. I placed it under my ass, folding my legs in front of me so they rested against the front of the sofa.

“Comfortable?” he asked as he pulled off the shirt he wore and slipped it under his thighs to catch the mess I would definitely make.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured.

His big hand wrapped around his semi-hard shaft, and I leaned forward, wetting my lips slightly. Slone liked the way his cock rasped against the barely moist flesh when he entered me.I did as well. As he fed his cock into my mouth, I inhaled. The magnetic, salty scent filled my nose, drew me in, and redirected my blood, what wasn’t already heading toward my cock, south. Lightheaded giddiness filled me. I always got so fucking hard whenever we did this, but especially when the endgame was him railing my ass until I begged him to stop. Not that I really wanted him to stop. I just enjoyed saying it—a lot. Sometimes I’d come just sitting here with his dick in my mouth. I always got fucked good then. It happened more often than not. A Pavlovian response? Probably. If he read to me while he lay on my tongue unmoving, coming hands-free was a given.

“You’re so perfect for Daddy, baby boy. You take me beautifully,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone.