Page 69 of The Star in Room 7

“Your wish—” I smile and kiss him fiercely. “Is my command.” Then I gently cuff his wrists above his head.

The ankle restraints loop around the bed frame. I tighten the chain until his legs are exactly where I want them, spread wide, knees bent, his inviting hole on show. I undress next, my movements just as slow as when I took his clothes off. He licks his lips and strains against his restraints, not to get away, but to get closer to me. Once I’m naked, I grab lube and a condom, slip the eye mask he chose onto him, and lie between his legs, lazily kissing him wherever it takes my fancy to. He whimpers, moans, and shivers every time my lips connect with his skin, his temperature seeming to rise with every kiss.

“I need you, Daddy,” he whimpers.

“Surrender to me,” I say. “I’m in charge. All you need to do is relax.”

“Yes, Daddy.” He sighs, expelling the remaining tension in his body. He lies still, entirely at my mercy, and smiles.

I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life than Zach in this moment. I take a moment to appreciate him—his body, his stunning face, his humbling vulnerability. Whether he believes it or not, he’s come so far since the frightened young man I first met weeks ago. Too soon or not, the way I feel for him eclipses everything else. Zach is my person. I hope I’m his.

I squeeze lube onto my fingertips and touch them to his hole. He gasps and flinches before relaxing once more, his happy smile returning. I warm him up gently, kissing him throughout. He makes the most delicious noises, showing me exactly how much pleasure I’m giving him, and how much he wants me. I love the feel of him. His skin beneath my lips. His body alongside mine. His warm ass squeezing around my fingers. Everything about him takes my breath away. Every whimper, murmur, and shiver makes me want him more.

When I’m sure he’s ready, I slide my fingers out of him, put the condom on, and slick up my hard, aching cock. I put my hands on either side of his head, and lower myself down to kiss him. At the same time, I nudge the head of my cock against his hole.

“Do you still want me to make it last, sweet boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he rasps.

“How long?”

“As long as possible.”

“Even if you beg for release?”

“Especially if I beg.”

“Who’s in charge?”

“You are, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

He moves his hips just enough to apply needy pressure against my cock. It’s all the encouragement I need. I push inside him, gasping at how hot and tight he is. I kiss him again, my tongue moving in time with my hips as I make love to him. His fingertips twitch, and he groans against my mouth, sucking my tongue delightfully.

I am overwhelmed by the trust he’s placed in me. He’s so relaxed. Making love to him is a joy. My heart swells. I quicken my pace, needing to come in him. With him. I kiss him fiercely, and he reciprocates wonderfully. He’s so submissive, so beautiful.

The moment I see the tells that he’s close to orgasm—the slight tightening of his abs, the quiver of his thighs, the clenching of his ass—I stop, lower myself over him, and lay still. I keep kissing him, keep stroking him. I wait until his breathing is less ragged, until I can feel a hint of frustration in his body, push up, and thrust into him again.

Slowly.

So slowly it takes all of my self-control. I make each stroke long, almost pulling out of him, pushing in until I’m balls deep. He reaches the brink faster than I was anticipating, so I stop again, this time not even kissing him when he whimpers.

“Daddy,” he whines.

I tut, reminding him who’s in charge.

He stills, becomes quiet, trusting me.

I start again.

Faster.

Harder.

My breathing becomes harsh, and this time it’s me who careens toward the edge too quickly.

I lose track of how many times I stop and start, resting for longer each time to regain my stamina. How many kisses I give him, how many times he begs for release. But he never uses his safe word, and he’s almost always smiling.