Page 41 of The Star in Room 7

“Don’t you think I’ve worked my arms enough?”

I hum. “Are they sore?”

He flexes one arm and then the other. “A little.” He sits opposite me on the bench, leans forward and kisses me. “I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one getting hot and sweaty, do you?”

“Oh, it’s totally fair.”

Laughing, he pats the bench. “Come on. I’ll spot you.”

“Or we could do more kissing?”

He curls his hand into the front of my T-shirt, pulling me along the bench until our knees collide. He kisses me fiercely, commanding every second of contact between us. I yield, my heart quivering as electric pulses zip up and down my spine. He rests his other hand against my jaw and neck, stroking my skin. By the time he releases my lips, I’m breathless and giddy. Breathing hard, I stare at his lips, damp with our mixed saliva, and the way his pupils are blown wide. Have mine done the same?

I lick my lips. “I think your kisses might be better than therapy.”

He smiles sadly. “No, but at least I gave you something else to think about for a few seconds.”

“My thoughts have been on you since we walked into this room.” I wince. “Too needy?”

He puts his hands on my knees. “You can be as needy as you like, sweet boy. Tell me what you need.”

Him? “I want you to help me relax again, Daddy.”

“We could do another scene. I have a selection of blindfolds you could choose from.”

“A selection?”

He chuckles. “I have a lot of toys. Do you want to see?”

“Yes.”

He takes my hand, stands, and tugs me to my feet. We go back to his bedroom and into the walk-in closet, where he opens a wide drawer. I widen my eyes at the array of blindfolds and eye masks, handcuffs and restraints, feathers, wands, and rollers, butt plugs and prostate massagers, soft paddles and quilted leather crops. He opens the next drawer up, revealing a weighted blanket and an assortment of massage oils and rollers.

“Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. “I… Uh… I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Only if you want to. All of my toys are designed to bring or heighten pleasure. There’s something especially erotic about having feathers run over your body while you’re cuffed and blindfolded.”

I shiver at the thought. “That’s something you enjoy doing?”

“To my boy, yes. But I won’t be upset if you’re not interested.”

Am I interested? I think the better question is: has the air con stopped working in the apartment, because I’m suddenly all hot, flustered, and sweaty. I’m pretty sure my face must have gone red and blotchy, too, as I’ve just run five miles. My imagination runs riot, enabling me to picture myself spread out on Nate’s bed, cuffed to his bed, blindfolded, naked, while he runs feathers over my body. My pulse quickens. Blood rushes to my cock, tenting my shorts. I glance down, which of course means Nate does, too.

“You showed me your drawers to turn me on,” I decide.

“Is that a problem?” he asks in a tone that’s entirely too innocent.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

I lift my chin and stare at him. “Whether you’re going to help me do anything about my hard-on.”

He moves closer, and I allow him to pin me against the wall. Nate could easily overpower me, but he doesn’t scare me at all. At the same time, the woman who broke into my apartment terrifies me, even though she’s much smaller in stature than I am. I want Nate to corner me, put his hand against the wall beside my head, and crush his body against mine. I yearn for the warmth of his breath on my face, and the press of his lips. I didn’t want her anywhere near me, cooking for me, telling me I belonged to her, touching me, or kissing me.

“You’re trembling,” Nate pulls back a fraction.

I swallow. “I’m sorry. I…” I shake my head. “I want you, Daddy. I need you to touch me so badly, but…” I close my eyes and take a breath. “She’s in my head, and I can’t get her out.”