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“Fuck me, Island Daddy,” he drones. “I mean, upstairs,” he adds, pointing to the ceiling.
After catching my breath, I bend over to put my shirt back on. Banana Boy meets my serious stare when I lift him back into my arms, carrying the lightweight babe out from the kitchen. My arousal is at its most supreme. In fact, I’m certain it wouldn’t take too much for my volcanic cock to engulf the boy’s hungry chasm. But he’s already in so much pain, I couldn’t in good conscience impart more agony upon him.
* * *
“You said there was something you wanted to show me?” Kragen asks, reminding me that I’ll need to bite the proverbial bullet.
He’d find the picture online eventually at some point. I’d rather be the one to show him for what I hope would be a first time, even though he’s forgotten about seeing it for himself earlier yesterday evening.
I nod with much hesitation. “Okay, yeah,” I reply, setting my bottle of Big Wave Golden Ale on the nightstand. “But don’t freak out or anything, because I have a woman who’s doing her best to try having it removed from the source.”
My Banana Boy doesn’t bat an eye, as he lolls back on the bedspread with a glass of milk. When I unplug my phone from its charging cord, the lock screen indicates I’ve missed two texts. Precisely in the same last two hours of being preoccupied with a sore little Kragen Darling on my hands. A loud scowl is beyond avoidance by this point, seeing my changed nickname on Wade’s contact info.
SATAN’S DICKHOLE: Hey there, I’m back on Maui to shoot a few movie scenes off the coast of Launiupoko Beach. I thought maybe we could have a civil conversation. I think Shane’s trying to compensate for his own personal turmoil by patching up the broken wedge between us. Maybe a make-up rub and tug? Oh and who’s the fresh meat?
That asswad doesn’t deserve the dignity of my reply. Typically, I wouldn’t respond. Though the notion of letting off some steam from the last craptastic fourteen hours has a certain pull. I lower my head to see Kragen patiently waiting, staring straight into my soul with clenched teeth as if I’m about to show him a picture of a dead body or something equally awful.
“Well?” He blurts out. “What is it?”
I hold up a forefinger. “Hang tight, I have a couple messages I need to answer.”
My thumbs are quick witted, while my words are heavy and snide.
Cool beans. What makes you think I’m interested in seeing your face for even a second? I don’t even watch any of your movies. Not after you ripped my heart into pieces. I hope a school of sharks snack on your legs, and you bleed a slow, painful death. Don’t bother me again or I’ll have you brought up on stalking charges.
P.S.: The “fresh meat” is an absolute darling. He’s ever the Prime Wagyu to your grungy canner grade, overprocessed waste of flesh.
Of course, my response can’t go without the most used GIF in my keyboard. Once I send off the Bryan Cranston mic drop, my attention moves onto the other missed text message. Finally, it looks like Ashland has landed in California. My message to him earlier last night screamed everything to the effect of,“I’m pulling the plug on our vote for Turnkey Investments.”His reply appears bluntly stated.
What are you talking about, man? The plan’s already in motion. You can’t abstain after voting in agreement with everyone’s decision. Our shareholders will have a shitfit.
And Francine’s gonna breathe fire down your neck for this… you’d better watch your back.
Honestly, I don’t give two good goddamns what that equine twat thinks. Just because I might be the most inactive C.E.O. in the history of our company, I’m still Chairman of the fucking board for Christ’s sake. And I can do what I damn well please.Blake Carrington, anybody?Another raucous grunt expels from my husky throat. Followed by an unpleasant belch, no thanks to the ale. These fast thumbs are quicker and shorter with this reply.
I give zero fucks what Francine thinks. This is my company, God damn it. And if I think Turnkey is a bad idea after the fact, then I’m changing to an abstention. She can get on board with this decision, or go back to her stable in Montana from where she galloped.
Hittingsendhas never felt more satisfying. Okay, maybe I’m a little too eager to blow off some steam. But I’d rather do it with a few digital words. Kragen huffs as he continues making bubble noises with his straw at the base of his milk glass. And his impatience has only evolved as I’ve pressed back into my pillows, sending those replies to Ashland and Wade.
“Are you done ignoring me yet?” He asks playfully, blowing a warm gust of wind into my neck. “What’s so awful that I’m gonna have some freakout over?”
I clear my throat, all the while repositioning to face Kragen. “Ohhh Heaven forfend I leave Your Royal Highness with bated breath,” I retort jokingly, retrieving the Sploosh website in my browser.
It only takes me a matter of two finger taps, and the keyword‘Fairchild’for the screen to emblazon with such an atrocity. If I’m being perfectly honest, my blood simmers at the simple reminder that I’m never given an iota of privacy. I reach for my brew to take a quick swig, before disclosing proof of our public indiscretion to the boy.
His pupils dilate, drowning their seas of innocence with an incensed reaction. “OH MY FUCKING GOD!” He shrieks, allowing the glass to slip from his grasp. “How’d they get this photo?” He asks, his fiery breath opening the immaculate pores on my cheek. “Isn’t your security system like top-notch or some shit?”
I shimmy my right arm between his neck and the pillow. “I’m so sorry,” I flounder. “My publicist, Veronica, is working to shut this shit down,” I add, slightly pinching his right shoulder. “These rag sites are just incredibly hard to fuss with,” my words falter for a quick breath. “They’re basically indestructible.”
Kragen breaks the landlock between our stares, glancing over towards my bathroom door. Moments pass between us, and I can’t seem to engineer the most appropriate way to soothe his fury. That is, if he’s as upset as I imagine him to be.Jesus, Reid. What kind of Daddy are you, if you aren’t quick to comfort your boy?Not but a minute later, the boy turns his attention back onto me. By now, his emotion has made a total one-eighty.
He leans forward, breathing in the slight aroma of perspiration pouring down my neck. “What happened to fucking me into oblivion?” He pleads under the veil of desperation. “So I can forget about all this pain for a few minutes?”
Those puppy dog eyes resemble my Nani’s to the very letter, when she’s hungry for attention. “I want to, I do,” I mutter, pressing my forehead into his and that beautiful birthmark. “But I don’t wanna injure your back any more than it is.”
Kragen smacks me square in the dick, vacantly blinking. “Please, Daddy?”
My head wavers, insistent upon meeting him halfway. “Sixty-nine?” I ask, shrugging. “That surely wouldn’t harm anyone,” I add, painting my fingertips from the boy’s chin to his dick.
