Page 61 of Knox's Boy

I felt my eyes go wide. "G-ginger? You wouldn't."

He leaned in, inspecting my face. "I absolutely would. You'd look exquisite, wriggling and red. But for now, the plug will suffice." He grazed his palm over my ass. "Hold it for me, and I'll consider removing it before breakfast tomorrow."

“B-breakfast?!” I asked, shocked. I didn't know if he was playing or not. I was feeling so full with the plug in place.

The next sensation caught me completely by surprise, a shocking cold against the heated skin of my backside. I yelped, trying to squirm away, but the restraints held me in place.

"Stay still," Knox warned, his voice stern.

I realized he was tracing an ice cube along the same paths he did with the paddle. The extreme contrast between the heat of the spanking and the cold was fucking insane. Pleasure and pain was racing along my nerves. Water droplets trickled down my skin, pooling in the small of my back or dripping between my cheeks to melt against the base of the plug.

"Please, Daddy," I gasped, unsure whether I was begging him to stop or continue. My cock was so hard it was aching.

Knox continued his torment, the ice moving across my skin until it melted away completely, leaving me shivering and desperate. Then his hand was on me, wrapping around my cock, stroking with just the right pressure to bring me rushing toward the edge.

"Not yet," he said sharply, sensing my approaching climax and withdrawing his touch. "You come when I allow it, and not before."

“I know, Daddy,” I complained. He smirked, daring me to say something else. I didn't; I couldn’t form a single thought.

This pattern repeated: his hands bringing me to the brink, then retreating just as I got close. Each time, he pushed me further, edging me closer to madness. The third time, tears of frustration pricked at the corners of my eyes.

"Daddy, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please, I need to cum."

Knox's fingers traced my shaft with maddening lightness, barely there. "Tell me exactly what you need, boy. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, Daddy," I sobbed, hips straining upward, seeking more pressure. "Please let me cum. I'll do anything… I've been so good… I need it so bad… it hurts."

Something in his expression softened at that, though still very dominant. "Then take what you need, my beautiful boy," he said, finally gripping me with firmly, decisive strokes.

This time, when I approached the edge, he didn't stop. My release crashed through me, my vision blurring, my body convulsing against the restraints with the waves of pleasure. I cried out.

Knox worked me through every aftershock until I slumped boneless against the mattress, utterly spent. With careful hands, he released my ankles from the wrist cuffs, then unbuckled the leather restraints entirely, massaging each limb as he freed it. He removed the plug gently, then followed with a warm, damp cloth cleaning me.

When he finally gathered me against his chest, I curled into him, my body humming with pleasure.

"Thank you, Daddy," I murmured against his skin.

He stroked my hair, completely content, his touch tender.

Chapter 28. Florian

The lecture on cognitive dissonance had run long, leaving my brain feeling like over-kneaded dough. I stepped out of the psychology building into the late afternoon.

I adjusted the strap of my leather backpack and headed toward the student lot. I couldn’t wait to go back to my car. Even after a few days, the thrill of it hadn't dulled. I didn't think it would ever dull, to be honest. Every time I thought of the car, my stomach did something funny.

The parking lot was thinning out. I spotted the F-Type immediately. It sat apart from the other cars. I was kind of scared of taking it anywhere, to be honest, but I also couldn't seem to leave it alone. It gleamed, pristine and arrogant, reflecting the burning orange of the sun.

But the light reflected off something else, too. A figure, lurking between my car and a white SUV.

My stomach dropped completely. I knew the way the cheap, oversized windbreaker and that restless shifting of weight from one foot to the other.

Finn.

I stopped ten feet away, my hand tightening around the key fob in my pocket. He looked rougher than when I had left him at the motel, if that was possible. I thought he'd be better after the hospital stay but it didn't seem so. His hair was a greasy thatch standing on end, and he was staring at his own reflection in the Jag’s window.

"Dad?" I asked.

Finn jumped, spinning around. His eyes were bloodshot, but they lit up, a smirk on his lips.