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“But my clothes are dirty,” I whined. “Is your washing machine speedy?”
His hand slid between the waistline of my shorts, as I took note of a glint at the corner of Reid’s eyes. “I already planned on giving you everything of Wade’s,” he affirmed. “He hadn’t worn any of it in the last few months of our relationship anyway.”
I moaned feverishly at his intense stroking, to the point when I felt precum wetting the soon-to-be-mine underwear. All the while, thoughts of inheriting a famous actor’s former clothes made me feel so swish. Even though the most famous hotel heir in the world fucked me deep and hard, the garments could be Reid’s parting gift before my journey home. A reminder of the best vacation I’ve ever been on. Definitely Something to remember my short-term Island Daddy by, whether I chickened out and quit my job or not.
He’s the very best fuck I’ve ever had in my life. Right then, I immediately decided I’d put the banana patterned shirt in a shadowbox to hang over my mantle until I’m old and grey. Certainly the most excitement I’ll have ever seen in what seventy years I’d live to. Honestly, I’ve always set a low bar where my life expectancy is considered. So the possibility I celebrate the big 5-0 would be momentous enough.
I grinned nervously, hiding the ardor beneath my flesh. “That’s not a little bit weird for you?”
Reid dismounted, leaving my animated dick in the lurch for however long until we’d fuck again. “Honestly, I wanna give you more than just them,” he insisted. “I’d like to take you shopping after my board meeting tomorrow.”
Even more gifts to remember my wild fuckfest seemed perfectly swell. Forget the mantle, I figured if Reid kept it up, I’d require a whole room devoted to memorabilia. His strong arms pulled me up to my feet, yet not without a near-miss of sinking back into the slippery patch of sand.
“I guess we should go get clean or some shit,” I replied, dusting off my shorts. “But you don’t need to take me shopping tomorrow.”
“Stop it, little boy,” Reid commanded. “We might live thousands of miles apart,” he added, catching me square in the eye. “But that wouldn’t stop me from flying to Colorado every other weekend if my schedule permitted it.”
In that moment, the surmounting awe rose to my conscience, stinging every shred of dignity for the umpteenth time. Honestly, changing the subject seemed like a better idea, than confronting the angel and devil on each opposing shoulder.
“I need a fucking Coke Zero,” I moaned, realizing that I hadn’t so much as a taste of Classic Coke with zero everything in such a long time.
The ding overhead us is loud enough, it would’ve woken me had I actually been asleep. I wipe my eyes, faking a yawn in the process. Konnor announces that we’re about to land shortly, and to be sure that we remain seated until then. Which won’t be a problem for my body, having just received enough sun exposure that I may decide to skip my entire next life.
“Are you as hungry as I am?” Reid asks, brushing the tresses which conceal my birthmark.
I nod with total agreement. “Yes Daddy,” I reply keenly. “I’m also incredibly thirsty.”
His eyes narrow while I feel a gentle patter against my belly. “No champagne tonight then,” he says. “You must try my favorite pineapple infused coconut water to rehydrate yourself.”
I scoff playfully. “But I thought I was clear about my desire for a Coke Zero,” I whine. “Please, Daddy?”
* * *
Reid eyes his Mahimahi in the same spot we sat in yesterday. According to his earlier statement, this is practically listed as personal real estate for him because he’s here so frequently. Without zero doubts, champagne is off limits. Simply put however, his choice of beverage to rehydrate is heaven in a glass. To the extent that I’ve consumed three of them in the hour we’ve been seated.Who needs a Coke Zero after tasting this Hawaiian delight?
He seems to be lost in his device, as I finish my final bites of teriyaki beef with broccoli. A mild grunt escapes his husky throat every so often, with a violent thumb tap here and there for good measure. Whatever has him rattled, if it’s business related, I’ll be tasked with unearthing it tomorrow for Allen.
God, I just wanna fucking quit that paper. It honestly causes me so much stress that I wouldn’t miss it. Then again, a promotion would finally get me out from under Momma and Mimi’s worried thumbs. Buck the fuck up already, man. Do your damn job!
“Does my Banana Boy wish for dessert now?” Daddy Reid asks, briefly diverting his attention onto me with an impish grin.“Or later in my penthouse?”
I assume being the hotel resort extraordinaire that he is, he’s got the entire top floor of some property to himself. Surely he can’t hop islands every single day, because that’d amount to a big waste of jet fuel. Before I can engineer my reply, Penny returns to our table with the same smile as she flashed yesterday.
“Dessert fellas?” She suggests, hoisting a hand at waist level. “Chef Kekoa whipped up the most divine papaya cheesecake today.”
Daddy shoots a suggestive look across the table. “Maybe?”
Honestly, I couldn’t eat another bite if my life depended on it. And I’m not fond of papaya’s either. But one thing’s for sure, I’ll be keeping my opinion about them tasting like a crusty asshole to myself today. Okay, not that I’ve ever rimmed anybody.But damn it, now that I’m thinking about it, I remember feeling Daddy Reid’s slithery tongue an inch deep into my gaping hole.
Rather than having to explain my staunch disgust for the tropical fruit, I wince with a full display of my bloated tummy. “I’m so full,” I say, tapping my belly button. “This may come popping out with less than a moment’s notice.”
Reid glances over at Penny. “I think we’ll skip dessert tonight,” he politely informs her. “But thank you.”
She returns more kind words. “Well then, you boys have a terrific night,” she says, leaving us to rise from the booth.
My Island Daddy follows behind me on our exit from The Palace restaurant, firmly pressing the palm of his hand into my spine. The minute a muggy throng of tropical air hits our faces, his hand travels farther South. Down the street in a parking lot, his chauffer greets us with the tilt of his tidy black hat.
“Splendid supper tonight, Mr. Fairchild?” He asks, welcoming me into the back seat of a new model Lincoln Town Car.
