Page 127 of Redline Baby

“I know. You’re doing so well.”

My hips start moving into his grip without shame, chasing every slow stroke. I’m making these small involuntary noises through clenched teeth, losing another piece of whatever composure I walked into the living room pretending to possess.

His thumb circles over me. Then his other palm lands against my ass. I yelp and moan at the same time. Soren chuckles softly. Bastard. “Please.”

“Please what, baby boy?”

I’m already too close. Dangerously close. I’m not sure I could hold back gracefully if he told me no, which means I need to ask before my body makes the decision for me.

“Daddy, may I come? Please?”

Soren’s hand slows just enough to torture me.

“Yes.”

I gasp.

“Come for me, baby boy.”

That’s it.

My whole body locks. The orgasm tears through me hard enough that I cry out into the couch, hips jerking into his hand while everything else disappears for several seconds. Soren stops spanking immediately. His palm moves over my backside in slow circles instead, easing me down while I shake through the last of it.

“Easy.”

I breathe. Try again. Breathe. Eventually, breathing becomes a thing I know how to do.

“Up.”

His arm slides around my chest and pulls me upright against him. I go boneless almost immediately. My face presses into his neck. His hands move over my back, soothing, and he kisses my temple, my hair, anywhere he can reach without requiring me to become structurally useful again.

I am sticky. My ass stings. My brain has become soup. Perfect.

“You did so, so well for Daddy.”

“Mhm.”

“Same time next week?”

I manage to lift my head enough to look at him. There is amusement in his eyes. He’s asking. But he already knows.

“Yes, Daddy.”

His smile deepens.

“Good.”

Honestly, he could give me one every day and I might still pretend to complain about it. For dignity.

We stay there for a long time, my ear against his heartbeat, his hand moving slowly over my back. Neither of us is in any hurry to go anywhere else. Somewhere in the quiet, I realize that I have never felt this particular combination of wrecked and safe at the same time. Not like this. For most of my life, being wrecked meant something had gone wrong. A crash. A mistake. A night that went too far. Something I’d have to apologize for once I put myself back together.

Now I can fall apart on purpose. I can hand him pieces of myself because I know I’m getting them back. I don’t have to earn the attention. I don’t have to fuck up to get it. I don’t have to audition.

Daddy wants me when I’m difficult. Daddy wants me when I’m scared. Daddy wants me when I’m good.

And lying there against his chest, sore and sticky and ridiculously content, I think this might be the happiest I’ve ever been. Again.

Chapter 29. Soren