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My hand crept back down the front of my pants. Okay, maybe I had two good things to look forward to, even if this first one was going to be over pretty fast.
I bit my lip, pushing my fingers under the edge of the ugly white briefs I was wearing to brush against the tip of my dick. It was all wet, just like it had been ever since the super-hot older guy had come into the restaurant earlier, and the minute I touched myself it jerked against my stomach, smearing the slick mess all over me.
I gasped, hips thrusting up as I totally forgot my plan to draw it out a little and shoved my hand deeper into my underwear. It felt so good that I might not even need to watch any porn to get myself there at this rate.
No surprise, I guess. At this point my dick had been so hard, for so long, that it was a wonder I hadn’t accidentally jizzed myself on the train home. I had no clue why the younger guy who’d called me over to the table had said all that filthy and exciting stuff to me about the other one giving me a birthday present, and I knew for sure that no one who could afford to eat at a place like that would ever actually be interested in me, but dang. That hadn’t seemed to stop my dick from getting all sorts of excited the minute Hot Daddy had walked into the restaurant tonight… and that excitement had made me all tongue-tied and stupid when they’d actually called me over to the table.
Callum. That’s right. The cocky young one had called Hot Daddy Callum.
And when Callum had looked at me, his dick had been hard, too.
And fine, maybe his hard-on hadn’t been for me. I mean, let’s be real, probably it hadn’t—it had probably just been part of whatever twisted game they’d been playing with all that filthy talk—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still pretend that the flash of heat in his eyes after he’d shot out of his chair and caught me looking at it hadn’t meant something. There was no harm in that, right?
I could pretend it meant he wanted me.
I could pretend it meant he saw me.
And that it meant that maybe, just maybe, if I tried really hard and was oh so good for him, he’d even take me… touch me… do all the sorts of things to me that I liked to watch online.
I moaned, immediately slamming my free arm over my face to try and stifle the sound behind my elbow since I never knew when Mom or her current loser would show up. I didn’t slow down, though. I couldn’t. I was panting hard, stroking myself faster and faster—well, stroking myself as much as I could, given that I hadn’t even unzipped my pants yet and didn’t have the patience to undo them or to shove my boring underwear out of the way.
I wouldn’t need to, though.
I was so close.
So close… so… so…
“Callum,” I whispered, imagining that he was the one who was doing this to me. And then I said it louder, even though I shouldn’t, my back arching off the bed as the cum suddenly started erupting out of me in hot, messy spurts. “Callum.”
I kept stroking, kept coming, kept saying his name over and over as I let the good feelings surge through me, cresting and crashing and rising again until I finally felt like I’d melted right into the lumpy mattress and might never move again.
I sighed when it finally started to fade, feeling good.
This was the best, the absolute best part of my day, and even though I was usually kind of squeamish about sticky, gooey things, I didn’t even mind the mess in my underwear this time. In fact, it was still there—along with my hand, wrapped around my softening dick—when I let myself drift off into a kind of glowy, dreamy nap, letting all those good feelings take me to a much better place than the one I lived in every day here in the real world.
A place where I could feel this good all the time… and someone like Hot Daddy Callum would actually want me.
A resounding crash woke me up.
“What the fuck is this, Dashiell?” Terrance, my mother’s boyfriend, spat, elbowing his way through the splintered bedroom door he’d just forced open as I jerked upright.
I flailed for balance, one hand still caught in my cum-soaked underwear and the other busy knocking my phone onto the floor. As soon as it hit, the sound of deep, nasty moans filled the room.
My heart shot up into my throat, trying to choke the life out of me. I must have accidentally swiped a play button on the porn site I’d left open on my phone when I’d knocked it off the bed.
“What… the actual… fuck?” Terrance said, breathing hard as his squinty, piggish-looking eyes darted between my phone, the broken door, and the scrap of lace in his hand.
The scrap of...
Oh.
No. No no no no no.
Please have me still be dreaming.
“Did you install a goddamn lock on this door?” he finally asked, his hard, mean gaze finally settling in one place—on me. “You put a lock on the door in my house, that I let you stay in rent free, out of the goodness of my goddamn heart?”
I swallowed, finally managing to extract my hand from my messy pants and trying to subtly wipe it clean on the bed without him noticing too much. I didn’t think Terrance was a hitter—at least, I hadn’t seen any sign of it yet—but the way the veins were starting to stand out in his forehead definitely wasn’t a good sign.
