“Oh, baby. You really are my little squirter.”
Panting, his body goes floppy in my arms. My knees threaten to give way. I lower us, so he’s kneeling on the floor, his chest on the bed, and I’m lying over him. We’re gasping and panting, hot and sweaty, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so satisfied in my life.
“That was wonderful, Daddy.”
I kiss his neck, jaw, and forehead. “You were wonderful, baby. Absolutely perfect.”
I hold him until I’ve stopped trembling, and I’m capable of moving. Then I ease my cock out of him and squeeze his hole until my creamy cum oozes out of his pucker.
“Daddy,” he gasps, twisting his fingers into the comforter.
I part his ass cheeks with my fingers and lean down to lap at my cum. Then I’m thrusting my tongue inside him, licking and teasing him while he moans and groans. He gyrates his hips, humping my tongue and the bed. Can I make him come again? I keep going, licking him inside and out until there’s not a trace of my cum left, only pink, glistening skin. I don’t stop. I rim him while alternating between squeezing his balls and stroking his cock until he’s hard as a rod.
“Come for me, baby.”
I thrust my tongue inside him once more, reveling in the squeeze of his muscles as he comes all over the bed for a second time.
“You’re such a good boy,” I tell him, hugging him.
He’s shivering and shaking. “I like being a good boy,” he whispers.
“You’re my good boy.” I stroke his sweat-soaked hair away from his temple and kiss him there. “You’re going to need another shower.”
He laughs. “So are you, Daddy.”
“Was that what you wanted, baby? Was it everything you imagined?”
“Yes, and more than. Oh, Daddy.” Then he closes his eyes, bites his lip and lets out a sob.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Chapter Eleven
Tyler
I take a deep breath and bury my head against the bedcovers. “I’m sorry. That was amazing, and here I am, ruining the mood by being clingy. This is the point where you worry I’m a crazy stalker.”
Emmet hugs me tight. “I don’t think that. Not for a second.”
“I’m not, by the way. It’s just you’re— And you’re—” I sigh, giving up.
“I understand.”
Does he? I’m not sure I do.
He unties me, ankles first, and then wrists.
“Come on.” He stands, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet.
Without a word, he leads me to the bathroom, where he takes off my harness and t-shirt before we shower together. He washes me down, kissing me as he goes. I stand still, letting him worship my body with his lips, a sponge, and soapy bubbles. Then he holds me, my head tucked against his shoulder, stroking and kissing me as hot water rains down on us. This time, my make-up gets washed away, turning the water a rainbow of color as it swirls down the drain.
Eventually, he turns the faucet off and dries me. While I sit on the toilet seat, wrapped in a big fluffy towel, he dries himself and then takes me back to the bedroom, where he gives me a pair of his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. I could put my own back on, but I’d rather wear his. He changes the bedding and then pulls me into the bed, where I snuggle against him.
“Could you delay your flight?” he asks.
The question takes me by surprise. “I— Don’t know. Maybe? I’ve got the whole week off. I figured I’d need it to recover from jetlag.”
