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A split-second later, Tamryn’s back is flat up against the club’s siding. “I’m gonna ask you fucking nicely one more time,” I growl, raising a brow. “What—did—my—boy—just—ingest?”
Frightened, his eyes widen considerably. Almost as if he’s being truthful. “I don’t know, my bartender said he was gonna start infusing fruit with Everclear.”
Fuck me!!!“Christ!” I scowl, a loud grunt rustling the back of my throat. “That’s like 130 proof,” I thunder, the echo bouncing off this wall. “And it’s fucking illegal in Hawaii!”
I turn around to see an incredibly buzzed Kragen Darling. He’s swaying to the fresh beats flourishing from every speaker out on the dance lanai. My boy motions for me to come closer with half his fingers. As I approach him, he extends both arms to reel me into his chest.
The exultant tone painting his beautiful face, captivates my heart by a throng of chains. Yet at the same time, escalating each of my Daddy instincts to their max. I want to get him back to my hotel, so I can sober him the fuck up. With every hope that his brain didn’t suffer any type of harm.Oh my fucking God, Dr. Davis is gonna be pissed if this screwed up my little boy.
“I requethted thisth song for ussh,” he claims. “It’th our soongg Daddyeuh!”
My palm pats his backside with ease, raising his chin with my extended finger yet again. “Aren’t you in pain dancing like that?”
“Whath pained?” He shrugs, pulling me close by the back of my neck.
Under the sheen of a full moon, our wet lips shift into random shapes against the other. My body sways with his swift motions from right to left, then back again. A swift breeze tousles my hair, while the deep lyrics of Ed Sheeran’s “Bad Habits” flounder through each eardrum.The boy’s damn right, these lyrics fit us to the fucking letter.
His tongue slides under mine, as I gently nibble on his upper lip.This taste! Fuck me all the way to a neon paradise.The flavor is reminiscent of a sweet pineapple. Yet his heavy breath is cloaked by pure grain alcohol. Likely from a vendor in Kona—who’s been known to sell it illegally for years now. But I’m not upset with my darling boy. To be fair, so long as he’s okay, then so am I. I’d stay out here getting drunk off his love all night, if that’s what he wants.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KRAGEN
Birds sing their sweet melodies up in the tree next to my window, causing me to wake from a restful sleep. If memory serves me—and this is something which hasn’t been incredibly useful the last few days—today is already Saturday. Thanks to Tuti’s deep spiritual need to connect with the sun every morning, I haven’t been accosted by the bright rays each day I rise from the dead. For the last fifteen years, I’ve had the master bedroom and bathroom all to myself. Until now, that is.
We technically landed in Grand Junction last night. But if I have to take a stab at what time we ascended my front porch, I’d guess well past eleven. Just because my Island Daddy has a private jet, doesn’t mean his pilot has become immune to the nasty elements of Mother Nature. Our short stop in California to refuel afforded us enough time to take an Uber to In-N-Out. Only after scarfing a Double-Double and large fries, did we return to the plane. Whereupon, Konnor advised us severe weather would cause a three hour delay.
Speaking of the tiki God, his arm is draped over my right shoulder. I’m not sure if I’ve paid close attention to it the last several mornings, but his snores take the sound of Thomas the fucking Train. Carefully, I slide out from under Reid’s flaccid limb to enjoy my penultimate Colorado morning piss. We’re supposed to be wheels-up by noon tomorrow, because Daddy has some important meeting at the office on Monday morning.
A yawn escapes my mouth, aiming the stream directly into my toilet bowl. However, as fate would always have it, a small splash shoots just over the porcelain rim.Never fails, man. Never fucking fails.Not that I can complain, since this might be the last time I ever have to clean a bathroom in my life. I’m almost certain that my Island Daddy doesn’t know a toilet brush from his tasty cock.
I bend forward to retrieve a few squares of toilet paper to wipe up the overspray from between my toilet seat and bowl. Followed by a satisfying flush as I totter back to the sink. Clanking sounds of pots and pans can be heard emanating from downstairs in the kitchen. Momma did mention she planned on doing her best to prepare breakfast this weekend.“I’ll try to make it fit for a King,” she said last night, before retiring to their bed.
Though, I’m not incredibly hungry. To be completely honest, there’s a certain degree of nerves causing my tummy to feel nauseated. This is a big fucking move for me. I attended the local university, finishing my Journalism degree in half the time it would’ve taken somebody else. So I’ve remained happily at home since birth.
Now technically, I’m flying from the nest after meeting Daddy Reid merely seven days ago. Carrie thinks I’m bananas and has reserved all judgement until she’s been given the assurance of knowing if this is destiny or some shit.
I glance into the double mirrored vanity at my sink, studying the vacancy in my stare. Meanwhile, my gut instincts scream only from a place of encouragement.This just feels right. Momma wouldn’t let me leave, if her psychic powers knew it would end in a world of hurt.Cool water shoots from the faucet, drenching my hands with a generous lather of Dial. Yet another change from my old life to new. All I remember seeing in his Maui bathrooms were some French brand—Locktane or something to that effect.
A few splashes grace my sweaty face, getting lost in deep thought about my new life. Precisely how I’m starting to already see a shift in my personal behaviors. Drinking has never been a favorite pastime of mine. Yet I’ve consumed more liquor in the last week, than I have any other time. Of which, the most recent brings a passionate memory to the forefront of my mind.
That fucking dance under moonlight. I might have been intoxicated with what Daddy said was Everclear, but I remember most every detail as if it were only last night. Our tongues slid against the other, as my requested song played throughout the club’s back patio. My skin could feel the slightest breeze. However, it only served to cool me down from eating those liquor infused pineapple spears, versus providing any great chill.
“If you’re my bad habit, Banana Boy,” he muttered into my ear, licking the lobe. “The only thing that could get me into a twelve-step program is if you joined me in rehab,” he added, smoothing his soft palm across my cheek. “Spending even one night without you is a feat I’m unwilling to fathom.”
Who the fuck knows what I replied with? If I had to guess, I’m thinking I might’ve spewed some word vomit to the effect of, “then let’s get lost in a sea of ecstasy together, Daddy.” And even at that, I’m certain it came out an unintelligible, slurred mess.
His hand creeped down my backside, shimmying between my ass crack and the belt. My cock twitched at the slightest touch. I knew it wouldn’t take much longer before I’d need to cum a river of bliss. Yet our song ceased to end. It lasted for what seemed like an hour. Yet it’s literally only three and a half minutes long.
Ed Sheeran’s lyrics speak about finding paradise, late nights with an unfamiliar person, and entertaining the temptation to keep seeing them because it feels so good. But that’s just the thing. Reid Fairchild is the last person on the planet whom I imagined falling head over heels for. After all is said and done, he seems to be the one person who understands me the most.
“Let’s get you poor fella to a place we can lie down,” he groaned under a veil of intent.
When the song finished playing, Daddy Reid whisked me into his strong arms. The world spun madly around my peripheral vision. Meanwhile, the man I’d just agreed to move in with, stopped at his car to give his driver special instructions.
His tone remained low, so I’m fuzzy on exact verbatim. But I think Daddy asked Gordon, “before you call it a night, please go to Lilo’s Pizza for a large—extra pineapple and ham—”
In that moment, I remember an image briefly flashed in my mind. The pizza box which I carried around to my bed at The Tiki Tavern, merely a moment before Reid’s Grindr messages blew me out of the water. Then a light drowned my periphery, all the while feeling Daddy carry me away from his car.
