Brave Boy (Perfect Boys Book 2)

by K. M. Neuhold

  The name on the package simply reads Tom followed by my address. I frown, trying to remember my neighbor’s name. I could’ve sworn it was Alex or something with an A. Who the hell is Tom?

  It’s a testament to how tired I actually am that it takes me a good minute and a half of standing in the hallway, staring at the package, before I remember that Tom was the name I told Daddy.

  A smile jumps to my lips, and I give the box a shake, trying to see if I can guess what’s inside. Whatever it is, it thuds heavily against the inside of the box. I feel like a kid on Christmas, eager to tear into it and find out what it might be. But, considering the last present Daddy sent me was a butt plug, I’d better go inside before I open it.

  I step inside and kick off my shoes, barely letting the door close behind me before I’m tearing the plain brown paper off the package. The box inside the wrapping is just as non-descript, not giving any hints about what the present is. I bounce impatiently on my toes as I pick at the tape along the edge, finally getting it loose and getting the box open.

  In my excitement to get it open, I fumble it, spilling an exceptionally large dildo to the floor with an impressive thunk.

  “Holy sh-shit.” My eyes go wide as I stoop to pick it up. It’s heavy in my hand, the material silky smooth in between the realistic veins adorning the shaft. I’ve never seen a more lifelike dildo—from the slight curve near the tip to the way the soft silicone moves under my touch. There’s even a thicker inch just below the head that makes it look like an uncircumcised erection.

  My own cock hardens, and my hole flutters as I hold this beauty in my hands. My Daddy is so good to me.

  Leaving the torn packaging abandoned on the floor in front of my door, I carry my present into my bedroom and sit down on my bed, one hand already on my phone, getting ready to text Daddy. I set the dildo down on my bed and palm my hard cock through my pants, groaning quietly. I eye the dildo again, and something catches my eye. There’s a brand name etched small near the base…

  Clone-a-Cock.

  Does that mean…? My breath catches, and my cock twitches against my hand, a wave of lust rushing through me. I press the call button with my thumb, putting it on speaker and then setting it on my bed so I can unbutton my pants.

  “Did you get your present?” Daddy asks in a rich, deep voice.

  “Mmhmm,” I hum, picking the toy up again and wrapping my fingers around the shaft, stroking it just like I would if it were his real cock. “Is it…?” I whisper, grateful that I’m able to get the two words out.

  “A replica of my cock?” He guesses the end of the question. “I hope you don’t mind. Imagining you fucking yourself with my cock made me so desperately horny I could hardly breathe.” There isn’t a hint of shame.

  Mind? I huff out an amused sound as I line up the large dildo against my cock and hold both together in my fist. My cock pulses out a burst of precum, my breath catching on a moan just feeling his weighty erection against mine. The only way it could feel better was if it was throbbing with his pulse. His arms around me wouldn’t exactly hurt matters either, but one step at a time. I’ll be ready eventually, and in the meantime, this really was a thoughtful gift.

  I hump against the toy, and Daddy groans quietly into the phone. Fuck, it must be so hot hearing nothing but the squeak of my bedsprings and the hitch of my breath. I can only imagine the filthy things he’s picturing right now. Is his hand down the front of his pants while he tries to conjure the image of my hole being stretched by his cock?

  I squirm and gasp at the thought. I want Daddy to get off watching me fuck myself with the present he sent me. I thrust against the toy a few more times, barely able to control myself. Then I reach for my phone again with shaky hands. He’s still on the line, breathing heavily and listening to me play, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to get out the words I have for him. So, I type out a clumsy text and send it.

  BraveBoy: Can we get on video so you can watch me?

  I’m already strategizing where I can set up my phone, so he’ll have the best view. He lets out a low moan when he reads my text. I can hear rustling on his end, no doubt taking his pants off.

  “I’ll call you back on video,” Daddy says, his voice sounding strained. I hit the button to end the call and scramble to set up my phone, propping it up and spreading my legs so he has a front-row view. The video chat starts to ring, and I hit the button to accept and then grab the lube and dildo and lie back.

  I let my eyes flicker to the screen, curious if I’ll get a peek at Daddy’s face. But, like me, he has the camera angled down to show off his body instead. His shirt is unbuttoned, the white undershirt beneath it rucked up past his slightly round belly, perfectly dusted with auburn hair, just like in his pictures. His large cock is laying hard against his stomach, looking twice as tempting as the exact replica still clutched in my hand.

  “Let me see your fingers stretch that pretty hole of yours,” he commands in a deep, rumbly voice.

  I fumble to drop the dildo and open the bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount onto my fingers and then slipping them between my legs. Daddy makes a low moan of appreciation, his cock twitching. Fuck, I want him here, pinning me down and teasing my hole with his own thick fingers. I just have to be bold enough to ask, and I have no doubt he’d be here. My throat tightens and my pulse races at that thought.

  I really want to live up to being the Brave Boy he calls me, but my tongue gets stuck when I try to form the words to ask him to come over.

  “Relax, sweetheart,” Daddy says in a soothing voice.

  It’s not until his calm voice washes over me that I realize I was trembling with nerves. I take a deep breath, holding it until my heart rate slows and then letting it out. I do that a few more times until my nerves fade.

  “Good boy,” he praises, those simple two words going straight to my cock. “Show me how you get your hole ready.”

  I tilt my head back, letting my eyes flutter closed as I slip two slicked fingers inside slowly. Daddy makes another low, growly noise as I work my fingers in and out. I peel one eye open and catch sight of his hand wrapped around his cock. My own erection throbs, twitching and spilling a long, sticky drip of precum against my skin.

  I reach for the dildo and squeeze more lube onto it. No matter how much I finger myself, the toy is so big I’ll never be able to prep enough, and I’m not in a particularly patient mood.

  “No,” Daddy says sternly when I line the toy up with my entrance. I huff but go still. “You’re not ready. Put down the toy. I want three fingers.”

  I clutch the toy tighter and let out an indignant puff through my nose. He’s not here; he can’t actually stop me from pushing the cock inside me and riding it until I come. Will I get a punishment if I do? The thought is both exciting and a little intimidating. I’m not sure I’m the disobedient, bratty kind of boy because the memory of the words good boy from just a few minutes ago is enough to convince me to do as he says.

  I set the toy back down and work two fingers back inside my tight, hot hole, fucking myself a few times before adding a third.

  I whine at the sting of the stretch. Okay, fine, he was totally right that I wasn’t ready for the girth of the cock yet. I watch the up and down motion of his hand on his cock, and I try to match the rhythm, working my fingers in and out as deep as I can until my inner muscles are relaxed and my balls are tight and aching for release.

  I want to beg him to let me use the cock now, to promise him I’m ready for it. I don’t even care right now that my words will likely get tangled up around my lips and tongue or what he’ll think of me if they do. But Daddy reads my mind like he always seems to. He knows what I need before I even have the chance to tell him.

  “Go ahead, but take it nice and slow.”

  I let out a shaky breath, pulling my fingers out and lining the dildo up a second time. “Slow,” he says again, the commanding edge in his voice almost enough to make me come all on its own.

&n
bsp; Kiernan

  I tighten my hand around the base of my throbbing cock to keep myself from coming as I watch Emerson slide the long, thick replica of my cock into his glistening hole. His slim thighs, dusted with dark hair, frame either side of the camera, his heavy balls pulled tight against his body, his cock leaking against his belly, and I stroke myself slowly.

  I’m playing with fire if I don’t want to finish too soon, but I can’t help myself. The needy twitch of his hips, accompanied by the breathy sounds falling from his mouth, is beyond addicting. I wonder how opposed the boy would be to spending a week in my bed, naked and perpetually covered in a mixture of our cum. I may have to propose it after we’ve met. I can’t imagine any amount of my sweet, perfect boy would be enough to sate the craving I have for him.

  His thighs tense and tremble, his cock jerking against his stomach as he pushes the toy all the way up to the flared base.

  “Ooh,” he moans, his hand flying to his cock. It jumps to my lips to tell him to slow down, but my own cock is leaking and my balls are aching.

  “I love your pretty cock,” I praise, working my hand faster up and down my length, and he does the same, rocking his hips while he pants and whines. If he weren’t so worried about me hearing his stutter, would he babble dirty things for me? In the future, will he let me coax them out of him? I want to hear filthy words on his sweet lips, and I want to hear them when his ass is squeezing my cock.

  “I want to fuck you deep until you feel me in you for days,” I groan. “I want to leave you dripping with my cum.”

  He moans, his abs tightening and his muscles twitching. He strokes himself even faster, humping into his hand. By the sounds he’s making, I’d guess the dildo is sitting just right inside too, grinding against his prostate with every swivel of his hips. I’d give anything to lick the stray droplet of sweat off his skin as it trickles down his chest or to sink my fingers into his slim hips and fuck him nice and deep until he falls apart.

  Emerson makes a strangled sound, and his cock starts to pulse, pumping thick ropes of cum over his knuckles and all over his stomach. I slam my hips up, fucking into my fist until the heat in my gut explodes as well, rushing through me as my balls tighten and I make a mess of myself with my release.

  I work my hand up and down my cock until Emerson’s body relaxes, and he stops stroking himself.

  As hard as I just came into my own hand, I’m not feeling all that settled or relaxed, no doubt because I can’t tug my boy into my arms and feel his breathing slow as his body softens into a boneless sleep.

  I wipe my cum-covered hand on my bamboo sheets and sigh. The camera jiggles on his end and then goes black. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes with a text.

  BraveBoy: Was that okay?

  Daddy: It was perfect. YOU’RE perfect. I just wish you were in my bed right now instead of across town.

  I’ve been careful not to pressure him, and I don’t want to think I am now. But I can’t deny how badly I want to be with him.

  BraveBoy: I’ll be brave enough soon, Daddy. I promise.

  Daddy: I’ll be here when you’re ready

  There’s no doubt in my mind about that. I’ll wait for Emerson as long as I have to, as long as he needs me to. He’s worth it.

  Chapter 12

  Kiernan

  I absently drag my index finger over the embossed lettering of the invitation that I’ve been staring at for a solid ten minutes. Boyd’s yearly masquerade parties are legendary among the wealthy and connected here in Las Vegas. They tend to be a rather fun time as well.

  Last year, an extremely famous pop star was there. Sweet girl.

  The question isn’t whether I’m going to RSVP to the party, it’s whether I’ll RSVP with a plus one. Taking anyone other than Emerson is absolutely out of the question. But is my boy ready for a little push, or is it best if I continue to let him set the pace? I hum thoughtfully under my breath, stroking my beard with my free hand.

  “Trying to decide which one of the many adoring boys you're going to grace with a request to be your plus one?” Barrett asks. I look up to find him standing in the doorway to my office. “I knocked, but you didn’t say anything,” he explains.

  I wave him in and set the invitation down.

  “Not exactly,” I answer his question as he settles himself into the chair in front of my desk, crossing his ankle over his knee. I eye my life-long friend. Wanting to let Em set the pace and get comfortable is only part of the problem. I don’t need Barrett’s permission to pursue things, but it will sure as hell make my life a lot easier if he’s not all surly and disapproving about the whole thing.

  “Why the conflicted expression then?”

  “What if I were to ask Emerson to be my date?” I come right out with it. There’s no point in playing coy about the issue.

  He frowns. “I’m not your keeper.”

  “You told me to back off,” I remind him.

  “And I still think you should,” he says simply. “I don’t think the two of you are a match.”

  “You’re wrong.” My voice comes out in an unintended low growl. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know a damn thing about what’s going on, and I don’t intend to enlighten him, but he couldn’t be more off the mark on this one.

  He cocks his head and studies me curiously. “You’re already seeing him.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Fine, it’s none of my business. But I’ll feel a lot better if you make it abundantly clear to him that the money this company is investing in the mobile library project is in no way contingent on him reciprocating your interest.”

  “I’m a lawyer,” I remind him.

  “Right.” He nods. “So, are you going to ask him to the masquerade?”

  “I haven’t decided.” Although knowing that Barrett won’t pitch a fit does help tip the scales a bit. I just don’t want to rush anything and scare him off. “I think I will take a break for lunch though.” That decided, I stand up and button my suit jacket.

  He gives me a knowing smirk. “Going to the bookstore?”

  “Reading is important,” I answer, returning his grin and patting him on the shoulder as I stride past and exit my office.

  The afternoon traffic is light, so it doesn’t take me long to get to Unicorn Books. I stride into the shop with a spring in my step, intent on reminding Emerson that he promised me a new book recommendation or two.

  My boy is behind the front counter, leaning over it and yawning widely. He looks absolutely dead on his feet with dark circles under his eyes and a weary set of his shoulders.

  All thoughts of books and flirting fly immediately out of my mind as I approach the counter with concern. “Emerson.” I say his name in a firm but gentle tone. He startles, standing up straight immediately and shaking himself like he’s trying to dispel his fatigue.

  “Hi,” he practically squeaks the word. “I have a b-b-b-book for you.”

  I ignore the book he slides in front of me, still focused on the unusual paleness of his skin. “Are you feeling well? You look exhausted.”

  He blinks at me in what seems to be surprise. “I’ve had a f-f-few l-ll-late nights.”

  My frown deepens. I know I haven’t kept him up particularly late at all this week. A momentary flair of jealousy makes me wonder if there could be someone else he’s chatting with as well, but I bat that away quickly. He’s not the type to do something like that.

  Instead of worrying about the cause of his lack of sleep, I go into problem-solving mode. I glance around the shop, looking for Sterling.

  “Are you working alone today?”

  “S-s-s-ss-Sterling will be in at th-th-three.”

  I check my watch. It’s only one o’clock now. My house is entirely too far away.

  “How far is it to your place?” I know his address, but I’m not sure of the distance off the top of my head.

  “Twenty m-mm-minutes.”

  “Hm.” I stroke my beard again, trying to come up with a sol
ution.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I’m trying to think of where I can take you for a nap,” I tell him, and he scoffs.

  “I c-c-c-cc…” He stops and shakes his head quickly.

  “I’ll watch the store,” I explain patiently, when he fails to get the word out and seems to give up in exasperation.

  “Kiernan,” he says my name with a hint of frustration, and it settles all wrong over me. I want to hear how the word Daddy will sound on his lips. Ideally, slightly breathless as he looks up at me through those thick eyelashes of his, all sweet and needy.

  Patience, I remind myself.

  “No arguments,” I say firmly. He’ll only waste his energy, and the result will be the same.

  Emerson sighs, clearly knowing he’s not going to win this one. “There’s a c-couch in the b-b-break room.” He points in the direction of the back of the store, and I smile. Before I can convince myself it’s too much, I round the counter and stoop to hoist him over my shoulder.

  He gasps and grabs onto the fabric of my suit, his body draped over me, his ass up in the air, my hand resting securely against his thigh. My cock hardens immediately, but it’s the last thing I’m worried about. My boy needs a nap, and I’m going to make sure he gets one.

  I’m not exactly sure where I’m going, but I carry him in the direction he pointed until I find an unmarked door near the back of the shop. I step through and flick on the light switch. It’s a small break room with a ratty couch along with a table and two chairs. It’ll do.

  When I set Emerson on his feet, he’s all pink cheeks and shy glances. By the way he quickly angles his body away from me, I have no doubt he’s as turned on as I am.

  “Lie down,” I instruct, shrugging off my suit jacket and rolling it up to create a makeshift pillow. Emerson looks at me in disbelief but doesn’t argue. He settles himself onto the couch and yawns again. “Get some sleep, and don’t worry about the store. I’ll take care of things.”