by Cara Dee
August let out a long sigh when I sucked him into my mouth. His hands disappeared into my hair, and I took him all the way in, wanting to feel him grow harder and thicker at the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he exhaled.
I went all in, coating him in spit, sucking hard, and tracing my tongue along every ridge.
“Did it feel weird when I called you boy earlier today?” he murmured.
I hummed and hollowed out my cheeks as I inched back. “Not in a bad way. Just don’t confuse it with a Little.” I peered up at him with a smirk and sucked him in again.
“It was just my way of recognizin’ that you’re younger than your years.” He smiled down at me and touched my cheek. “I get the feelin’ you’ve been shouldering a dominant role because it’s expected of you once you reach a certain age.”
He wasn’t far off. I attracted younger men like shit attracted flies, but we didn’t want the same dynamic.
“My God, the way you use that tongue,” he muttered. “Get on all fours. I’ve waited long enough.”
Finally. It’d been too damn long since I’d bottomed. Unless, with my sad love life, I wanted to count a collection of toys.
I still had the salty flavor of his pre-come on my tongue when I got into position in the middle of the bed, and it made my mouth water with want.
August opened the drawer in his nightstand and lubed up his cock, and it shone in the faint glow of the light on the nightstand. It was the only lamp switched on in the room.
“You were wonderin’ about why we don’t share a room before, weren’t you?” He crawled onto the mattress and kneeled behind me.
“Among other things,” I replied.
He took his time to respond, instead using the next several frustrating beats wiping off excess lube onto my cock and balls. I dropped my chin and breathed heavily, watching his hand work me over between my legs.
The bastard teased me too. He slid two fingers between my ass cheeks, too softly, too seductively, which made it impossible not to move into his touch.
“The Daddy in me and the Little in Camden and are the happiest when he’s regressed,” he explained quietly. “I get to be his protective caregiver, and he’s my carefree little sprite.”
I bit down on my lip and screwed my eyes shut as he kept rubbing and stroking me in all the right places. But with entirely too little pressure.
“The problem is, he reaches a stage in his regression where he stops being sexual,” he continued. “I don’t mind it for shorter periods of time, and he doesn’t want to go that far very often anyway. But it makes for some tricky balancing and constantly being alert for when he reaches that point. His room is his safe space. In there, no one assumes anyone is up for play.” He released a breath. “I have no words for how much you turn me on, Anthony. Your ass was made to be fucked.”
“Then get to it,” I grunted. “I’m not good at begging.”
He chuckled huskily. “We can work on that. Another time.” Another time sounded good. Fucking finally, he released my cock and guided his own to my ass. “Where were we? Right—Camden. I’m not just a Daddy. I’m a partner too, and he gets lonely.” He rubbed the head of his cock around my hole. “Camden’s safety is my number one priority, and he prefers to sleep alone in his own room with all his toys when he’s Little—not just regressed. Which means I sleep alone in here most nights.” Damn. So Camden had three or four stages of himself. Who he was in a vanilla setting and presumably when he worked. Then the everyday Little who could balance both the kinky world and their marriage. Lastly, his regressive stages, one as…sexual? And one as nonsexual. “Throw in guilt because we always want to be everything our loved ones need,” he finished.
August was, in a way, a single parent. It was the only comparison I could make. So…he was torn between wanting to be the best Daddy and keep his little one happy, and also wanting to satisfy his other needs as a man.
“That’s rough,” I murmured. “I know the feeling of not being able to fit into a set standard for relationships.”
He hummed. “Yes, you do.” As he slid one hand up my spine, he shifted a little closer and began pushing into me.
The pain was bearable, despite his impressive size. It just felt fucking perfect. I’d needed this for too goddamn long for any pain to get in the way of the pleasure.
We both groaned as he buried himself in one long thrust.
Lust went from simmering and glowing to setting off shivers and explosions within me. The urgency shot through the roof, and I hoped he didn’t wanna carry on the conversation much longer. I wasn’t sure I could focus on anything but his big cock inside me.
He was done with his teasing, thank fuck. With a firm grip on my hips, he pulled out slowly, only to push in again much harder.
I cursed and clenched around him.
Fire spread its way through my veins.
Wanting him closer, I pushed against his cock and reached for him. He sat back on his haunches; I followed and was able to touch him more. He was able to touch me more too. His arms came around me, his hands roaming my chest and my cock, and I squeezed his ass greedily.
“That’s my boy. Fuck yourself on me.” He took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around my cock. “Perfect. So fucking perfect.”
I groaned and felt all my mental barriers shattering. I didn’t wanna feel self-conscious about my preferences, about wanting to be the subservient guy who just wanted to be fucked into oblivion. Just because people described me as rough around the edges and gruff didn’t mean I felt that way.
August moaned as I sat back on him harder, wanting more, more, more. Fuck, it’d been so long… He filled me, stretched me, and owned my mind, even when I was the one controlling the movements.
“It’s okay to be a greedy boy with me, Anthony.” He planted an openmouthed kiss along my neck that gave me goose bumps. “It’s what you are, isn’t it? You’re a greedy boy?”
He was doing this on purpose. He was pushing at my mind-set.
“Yeah,” I responded, sucking in a sharp breath as he moved his hips to dig deeper into me.
“Say it.” He nipped at my earlobe. “Let go, darlin’.”
I flushed all over and swallowed hard. “I’m a greedy boy.”
“You’re a greedy boy for my cock.”
He was killing me. I didn’t know why a part of me struggled against what I wanted. Maybe it was the same thing as always. Society’s rules.
Say it.
“I’m a greedy boy for your cock.” I did my best to shove aside the awkwardness that welled up within me.
“Mm. Next time I make you say that, I promise it’ll be easier.” He slowed me down with a firm grip to my hips. “Lie down on your back so I can take care of you.”
So I can take care of you.
Those words reverberated through me, pushing further at my mentality, as I eased off his cock and got comfortable on my back. Knees pulled up a bit, feet planted firmly on the mattress.
He moved between my legs and slid his hands over my knees, parting them farther. “So damn beautiful. I wish Camden were here with his camera. I want to save this very image of you. Open and waiting for me, rock hard and all man.”
Fuck, I was gonna grow addicted to him if he kept saying shit like that.
He didn’t give me much time to answer before he was looming over me, gathering my hands over my head, pushing his cock back inside me, and capturing my mouth in a passionate kiss, but I had to say something.
I groaned at the feel of him taking me, burying himself to the hilt. “I’ve followed your videos for almost a year without learning a goddamn thing. There’s a reason for that.”
He hummed appreciatively against my lips and began fucking me in deep, hard thrusts. “Did you think inappropriate thoughts about me while I was trying to teach you to cook, Anthony?”
I couldn’t contain the slow, half-sheepish grin that took over, because of-fucking-course I’d thought inappropriate thoughts about
him. I could write a book solely about his hands. And the charisma he exuded with each smile, not to mention how expressive and warm his eyes were. Hazel mixed with experience and assertiveness. Hell, I was getting lost in those peepers right fucking now.
“Can you blame me?” I closed the distance and kissed him. “Every move you make is pornographic, and you’re lethally handsome.”
He released one of my hands to cup my cheek, and he kissed me with so much hunger that I stopped breathing.
Neither of us had anything else to say. We became all hands, mouths, and the rest of our bodies. We spurred each other on and made out like teenagers. He made me feel shit I hadn’t felt since I actually was a teenager. The desire I had for this man that spread through me like wildfire was mind-numbing.
My lungs burned for air, and I felt myself slip from the present in short intervals when all I could focus on were the changes inside me. How everything became magnified compared to what I was used to, from shivers and goose bumps to how I tensed up when he hit a sensitive spot and even how I breathed. He made me lose my goddamn breath. It hitched each time he drove his perfect cock into my ass, which sent sparks of pain-laden pleasure through me.
August left no room for insecurities and awkwardness. He demanded total control and fucked me whichever way he pleased, and I couldn’t hide my reactions. When he hooked an arm under my knee and drove in forcefully, he’d fucked the last of my inhibitions outta me. I met every push and pull, and I had to have my hands on him at all times. He tried to lock my hands above my head again at some point, and I just wiggled free and grabbed at him.
“My sweet, affectionate boy,” he whispered, out of breath. Then he slipped a hand between us and gripped my cock, manipulating me with long, firm strokes that ended with a twist that skimmed the head of my cock across the palm of his hand. “Tell me what you want right now.”
“For you to keep—keep that up,” I panted. “Fuck.” I was so fucking sensitive at the head that each brush of his hand sent waves of liquid heat over me. “Harder—fuck—take me, August. Please fucking take me.”
Oh my God.
My orgasm started rolling through me, and I lost all composure. Pretty sure I lost my English briefly somewhere, too. I just vaguely registered a string of curses in Italian gusting out of me, and by then, I was already gone.
Ropes of come shot out from my cock and landed across my stomach.
August’s gravelly groan sounded far away. I felt him rock into me a few times before he grew still, then how he panted against my neck.
The orgasm took everything from me and left me feeling weirdly raw.
I blinked, swallowed against the dryness in my throat, and waited for my heart rate to return to normal.
Mamma mia, I was fucking shaking.
August withdrew from me and reached over to the nightstand for a box of tissues.
My ass was gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.
“I’d get you a wet towel, but I’m not ready yet.” He spoke quietly as he cleaned up my stomach.
I didn’t know what required readiness for grabbing a towel, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to leave the bed, much less the room. Once he was done, he tossed the tissues aside and buried us under the covers, where he gathered me in his arms. And it felt indescribable. I plastered myself to his body and snuck a leg between his.
I breathed in deeply, my mouth watering from the strong smell of sex. Of us.
He exhaled at the same time and lifted my chin. “You’re amazin’, darlin’.”
So are you.
I kissed him unhurriedly, teasing my tongue with his, and got settled to share his pillow. “Ditto.” I cupped his cheek and brushed my thumb over his silvery stubble. “I, uh…I should go to the bathroom and clean up.”
He gripped my ass cheek and squeezed, which didn’t exactly help prevent his come from slowly trickling out of my thoroughly fucked ass. “That’s a matter of opinion,” he informed me. “And my opinion trumps yours.”
I chuckled into a quick kiss. “What’s your opinion, then?”
He made that very clear by brushing a finger over my sensitive opening. “That I prefer to play with your pretty little asshole when it’s wet with Daddy’s come.”
“Jesus.” I turned my face into the pillow and let out a big breath. “You and Camden have the filthiest fuckin’ mouths.”
He rumbled a chuckle and kissed my shoulder.
Eventually, he stopped playing with my pretty little asshole too, and he hugged me tightly to him.
“Speaking of Camden,” he said. “I apologize for going on too much about our situation. He and I haven’t shared a bed with another man since the very beginning of our relationship when we were more focused on kink, so I suppose I’m a bit rusty.”
I eased back a little so I could look at him properly. “Have I complained? If anything, I want more answers. I’m interested in your dynamic.”
He smiled faintly and stroked my cheek. “Still. It’s not why you’re here, is it? You’re on your vacation and deserve a little carefree fun. That doesn’t entail playing therapist to me.”
I snorted and leaned in, pressing my forehead to his. “How about you let me decide what I want on my vacation. And that’s a rhetorical question, you rusty old man.”
Amusement and warmth seeped into his eyes again. “That’s fair. As long as this rusty old man gets to do unspeakable things to you, it’s all good.”
“Whenever you want, papi.” A yawn broke free, keeping me from scoffing at my own behavior. Listen to me. Nicky called Gideon papi all the time; he musta rubbed off on me. “When do we have to get up tomorrow?”
“I set my alarm earlier. I figured six thirty would be safe. Then we don’t have to rush through breakfast.”
Six thirty. Cazzo. I wasn’t used to getting up that early. The Initiative had contracts with a few different elementary schools in our area, but even they didn’t schedule music before ten. And the rest of the classes were private, so they were obviously scheduled to start once school was out for the day.
“Then we better get some shut-eye,” I said, stretching out along his body. “I’m not the friendliest person in the morning.”
August smiled and scrubbed his hands over his face. “No one’s worse than Camden.”
We’d see.
Chapter 8
Washed by the Water - I
I chugged half a bottle of water as Luiz and Chris guided us into what was the most challenging song for me, personally. I had to bring out the gospel singer in me, and I glanced back to find Maria giving me a reassuring nod.
Chris’s bass danced with Luiz’s crashing cymbals, and Nicky unleashed the feedback effect from his guitar. It was about everything I’d get where backup sound was concerned, at least through the parts where my singing was the focus.
I cleared my throat and gestured to Luiz that I was ready.
Have mercy.
I summoned all the strength I could at the bottom of my stomach and screwed my eyes shut. Only Maria and Matt existed at the forefront of my mind; it was them I sang with, them I led through the first two minutes of the eight-minute-long song.
Have mercy.
Then I got a quick breather but made sure I never looked out over the crowd. This song was too personal; I put every fiber and emotion of myself into it. Luiz took it away, expertly, and marked on the tom right before everyone else joined in. Bass, drums, guitars, keyboard, choir.
I bent the strings and bobbed my head to the beat, delivering a short solo that Sylvia took over soon enough.
Have fucking mercy.
In my defense, the reason I wasn’t feeling moody the following morning was August.
“If you’d canceled your reservation yesterday like I told you to, they wouldn’t be charging you for a second night you’re not even there.” He nuzzled my neck and nipped at my skin, sharply enough for me to wince.
“Lesson learned?” I grinned lazily and set down my phone on the kitchen cou
nter. Then I locked my arms around his neck and sought out his lips. “I didn’t know youse were gonna want me to stay beyond the first night, and the motel had already charged me for that.”
He hummed into a slow, tongue-teasing kiss. “Well, now you know. You’re mine for the rest of your stay in Nashville.”
I could live with that.
I deepened the kiss and thought, I could live with this too. Waking up in August’s bed, to his kisses, to him seducing me, to him fucking me like a god in the shower, then coming down here to make breakfast together while the sun rose outside.
The coffee was ready.
The eggs were scrambled and cooking on low heat.
Bacon strips in the oven.
“Daddy!” Camden whined sleepily from upstairs. “Why’d’ju set my ’laaarm?”
August and I laughed a little and broke our kiss, and he rested his forehead on my shoulder for a second.
Okay, so maybe Camden took the prize for morning crankiness.
“One day, he’s gonna learn that we don’t allow yellin’ in this house,” August murmured.
“Today’s not that day,” I chuckled.
Camden stomped down the stairs and huffed and puffed to himself all the way to the kitchen.
Christ, he was adorable. Hair pointing in every direction, sleep in his eyes, Darth Vader pajama pants. He must’ve changed them.
“Mornin’, baby boy.” August withdrew from my arms and went to check the bacon in the oven. “What have we said about hollerin’ across the house?”
“That it’s okay for emergencies,” Camden grumbled. “I’m not goin’ to the festival. Why did you wake me?”
“Because I thought you’d want breakfast with us before we take off,” August replied. “We need to discuss your chores for the day too.”
“Darn it,” Camden complained. “I don’t like chores.”