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“Apologize for touching what belongs to me.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy!” Tanner screams, his cock erupting all over my hand. The milky fluid dribbles between my fingers, easing the slide of my fist over his cock as I pump him through his orgasm.
Tanner collapses against me, arms falling to his sides. His chest heaves as I finally release his sensitive length. Pressing a kiss to his temple, I wrap my arms around him, uncaring of the mess. “Good boy.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” he murmurs.
Unsure if he’s thanking me for the orgasm, the praise, or the reminder of saving his pleasure for me, I kiss his cheek in response.
As Tanner comes down from his orgasm, I roll him to the couch, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe us clean. He smiles up at me, a little loopy and fully satisfied. It brings me immense pleasure to see him look at me like this.
“Stay here, baby bat.” I move around the couch, adjusting my dick on my way to the kitchen. My only plan from this point forward is to make sure my boy is properly taken care of. My dick can wait until I shower later—with the erotic replay of Tanner exploding in my hand to guide a quick jack.
I hurry through the kitchen, snagging the carton of ice cream out of the freezer and two spoons from the drawer.
Hustling back to the living room, I wrap Tanner in a blanket and scoop his burrito’d body into my lap. Quiet intimacy settles around us as we come down from the scene and trade bites of ice cream between chilly kisses.
??????
With my back propped against the wall, I scan the main room at The Garden. Unlike other clubs I’ve worked at in my past, this place is open all week long, catering to those whose needs extend outside of Friday nights and the weekends. Although attendance is lower mid-week, there are still plenty of folks around tonight to warrant half of Madam Eve’s staff.
Without a demo scheduled for the night, the main floor serves as nothing more than an area to meet and greet before various pairings filter off to the two hallways with our open and private playrooms.
I’m on my fifth visual circuit of the room when a familiar pointy finger appears in my field of vision, wagging to get my attention. “What’s this smile? The grumpy Daddy Dom I know doesn’t smile…for anyone.”
Rolling my eyes and wiping any expression from my face, I glance at Aspen. “Curiosity killed the cat,” I say, flicking one of their lavender ears with my fingers. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
“Lucky for me, I’m a kitten. So I think I’m good,” Aspen snarks, forcing barked laughter to escape before I can stop it.
“Fair enough, I suppose,” I say when I catch my breath again. “I was thinking about Tanner.”
“Ah, the little who finally captured your heart. That’s still working out for you?”
“I don’t know about any hearts involved, but yeah. We’re good.” Understatement, thy name is Dean Nash.
The first couple of days after Tanner agreed to be my boy were bumpy, but I think we’re finding our footing. Routines have been established, and other than an occasional bout of late hours at the office for case notes, Tanner is starting to find some balance between work and self-care.
I’ve seen more bright smiles over the past few days than I think he’s given anyone in quite some time. Each video chat before bedtime, Tanner regales me with stories of his day, how he’s done with his schedule, and what he’s looking forward to the next day. I share the same before diving into whichever bedtime story he requests before lights out.
We’ve learned more about each other, sharing our pasts and presents. Tanner shared with me about his family, with whom he doesn’t have a relationship since he was kicked out when he came out of the closet at sixteen. I’ve told him about being raised by a single mother who passed peacefully in her sleep nine years ago.
I’ve told him all about the crazy found family I’ve created with Eve, Aspen, and the others at The Garden. He’s shared how he doesn’t spend much time with his colleagues but sees a kindred soul inside the receptionist, Jeanine.
He’s leaned into the open communication between us, even going so far as to tell me it’s something he’s struggled with in past relationships. I guess his last boyfriend didn’t understand why he couldn’t share the details of his job. Fortunately, I get it. It’s given him the freedom to talk about what he can, in a way he wants to, without resentment or passive-aggressive comments.
Our conversations rarely stay lighthearted and fluffy, each of us quickly discussing deeper topics about our lives. It’s fascinating getting to know him as more than the stress-riddled, sleep-deprived, vampire-loving little I met here at The Garden. Our intimacy is developing far beyond the physical and confirming my initial reaction to Tanner wasn’t too far off the mark.
He’s a perfect fit for me in nearly every way. Unless you count the fact that he likes pineapple on his pizza, which is just weird.
“I’m happy to hear that,” Aspen says, disrupting my thoughts. “I’ll be sure to let Madam Eve know she can sing ‘I told you so’ at any time.”
“That’s wholly unnecessary.”
“Maybe.” Aspen grins at me. “I’m so happy to know I’m not the only one around here that has been subjected—and fallen victim to—these adoption-night pairings.”
“Doesn’t feel like victimization when I want him more than words.”
“Whoa, that’s…wow.” Aspen does one of those dreamy sighs. “Lucky boy. Good thing I came to relieve you. Madam says you’re itching like you’ve got fire ants biting your nutsack—her words, not mine—and to tell you to get out of here for the night. PJS is on-site for a few hours, and they can shut down.”
