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“Dirty,” he whispered. Needing more wetness, he spat into his hand and stroked me quickly. “As long as only I get to play with you, I’m down for anything.”
I liked that rule. “That sounds perfect to me.”
We were kinda done talking after that. He wanted to hold my hands, so I threaded our fingers together and held him tightly as he slowly, inch by inch, took me inside. God. It was possible I squeezed his hands a little too hard here and there, but I couldn’t fucking help it. He was so bloody tight and warm around my cock.
The pain and determination in his expression only turned me on more. I wasn’t particularly sadistic in my dominance, but when my boy wanted Daddy’s cock so much that he accepted pain in order to get fucked, I felt ten feet tall.
Most of the time, I was only interested in pain that heightened and intensified pleasure.
Most of the time.
Some boys needed the belt on occasion, and I’d just become utterly hooked on a strong boy with a knack for getting himself into trouble.
I couldn’t wait to explore what kind of attitude he’d have when he got feisty. Would he yield, or would he jut his chin?
I hissed as he sank all the way down, and he let out a pained moan.
“Daddy.”
“Take your time, baby. Let your little hole get used to being stretched.”
That made him whimper. “Your filthy fucking mouth… Say more stuff.”
I let out a breathless chuckle, only to groan when he clenched down on me. “When I get you alone, you’ll be cuddling up with your stuffie as Daddy fucks you into next week.” I carefully withdrew one of my hands from his so I could rub his cock. “Maybe you can suck on your thumb for Daddy too. Give him something cute to watch.”
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Oh fuck.” He started moving cautiously. “You, um, you really want me in your bed every night?”
“As close as possible.” I looked between us, right where we were joined. “I gotta have you in my arms.”
He nodded. “I want that so bad.”
I slowed him down again. It was time for me to take over. He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with setting the pace, and I couldn’t lie still anymore. I instructed him to get on all fours for me, and he was quick to scramble into position.
I kneeled behind him.
“Fucking hell, boy.” I kneaded his ass and dipped down to slick him up a bit more. Then I inched closer and pressed the head of my cock against his asshole, and I couldn’t look away to save my life. Full control, addictive view. “Breathe out and push back, okay?”
I smoothed my hand up his spine, brushing my fingers along his intricate tattoos. My little Danny Rose. I pushed inside, and he groaned and clamped down.
“Breathe out, little one. Daddy’s almost all the way in.”
He filled the silence with more of his needy sounds, and he pushed back as much as he could. I registered every noise, every look over his shoulder, and I was flooded with the urge to claim and own. His need for reassurance and comfort, for togetherness, turned me into a man possessed.
I started fucking him.
My hands roamed his worship-worthy body, every inch I could reach, and I told him to touch himself like he did when he was alone and thinking about Daddy.
We could never go back. I hoped he realized that. Exposing these sides of ourselves to each other had been the final nail in the coffin. I couldn’t be Payne, the hard-ass instructor who viewed him as nothing but a soldier. He couldn’t be the cocky sergeant who kept me and everybody else at arm’s length.
The walls had to be torn down.
I shuddered at a rush of euphoria, and I could see how my cock glistened more.
“My perfect little boy,” I murmured, mesmerized by the sight. “You’re milking Daddy.”
He cursed through a moan and pushed back harder. He looked at me over his shoulder too, cheeks a little flushed, eyes heavy with lust.
“I’m so hard,” he whimpered.
