Brave Boy (Perfect Boys Book 2)

by K. M. Neuhold

  “And you’re comfortable like this for our conversation?” I check, and he nods, not making any move to cover himself up.

  I finally give in and let my gaze roam over him. He’s even more stunning bathed in moonlight than in the pictures he sent. He’s not skin and bones, nor is he waxed to the point of hairlessness like most boys I’ve dated. He’s all lean muscles and a dusting of dark hair, his cock half hard, resting against his thigh. I offer him my hand, and he takes it, letting me pull him to his feet.

  While I lead him over to the patio couch, I slow my steps momentarily so I can catch a quick glimpse at his backside, grinning to myself when I catch sight of the tattoo on his right butt cheek. If we make it past this conversation tonight, I’ll have to ask why he lied about it.

  Emerson picks a fat, ripe strawberry off the tray and takes a seat on the couch while I shrug out of my suit jacket and kick off my shoes, otherwise remaining fully clothed. I love the feeling of staying dressed while my boy is bare for me, fully on display and eager to be touched.

  Not that we’ll be touching tonight, I remind myself. There are too many important things to discuss, not the least of which being the dynamics of a potential relationship. We talked about these things as LonelyDaddy and BraveBoy, but now we need to agree to them as Emerson and Kiernan.

  “I want to start by saying that I’m sorry for not being honest with you. I need you to know that I struggled with what would be best for you, and the choice I made was purely based on your needs.”

  “I know,” he says easily before wrapping his lips around the strawberry in the most obscene way possible, his eyes fixed on mine the entire time. My cock swells, caressed by the soft material of my boxer briefs. He chews slowly and then drags his tongue over his bottom lip, gathering the lingering juices from the fruit. In the moonlight it’s hard to tell if there are any remnants of lipstick left on his mouth or if it was all kissed away. “S-s-sit down?” He pats the cushion next to him when he finishes chewing.

  I didn’t realize I was still towering over him until he said something. I take the spot he indicated, making myself comfortable. As soon as I’m seated, Emerson eyes my lap shyly, nibbling that plump bottom lip of his.

  “If you’d be more comfortable having this conversation over here, then by all means.” I gesture to my lap. That’s all the invitation he seems to need, scrambling over and making himself comfortable, his head against my shoulder and his butt squarely against my rapidly hardening cock.

  He leans forward and grabs a few more pieces of fruit off the tray, shifting his weight against me and rubbing his perky ass over my cock. I should get some sort of medal for managing to stay focused. But this conversation is important.

  “We discussed a lot of things online,” I say, and Em nods. It’s too dark to tell, but the bashful way he ducks his head makes me think he’s blushing again. Such a sweet blush he has. I’m eager for the chance to lay him down in proper light and chase the flush of his skin with my lips. I want to worship every single inch of his body and tell him what a good, perfect boy he is until he’s overflowing with my praise and there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he’s already mine.

  “I still m-m-mm-mean it all.”

  My heart swells and triples its beats. “You want to be my boy? Even though I withheld information from you?” I ask. “You trust me to be your Daddy?”

  He nods his head rapidly. “I n-needed it.”

  I wrap my arms around him and hold him a little tighter. Is this real? It’s hard not to get my hopes up that Emerson might be the boy I’ve been dreaming of for years now, the boy I can share my home and my life with.

  “I’ll always put your needs before everything else,” I promise him. He leans into me, putting one hand against my chest and bunching the front of my dress shirt with the other. A soft sigh falls from his lips and ghosts over my neck.

  “I know.”

  Those two simple words are everything I was almost afraid to hope for. Every inch of his trust is contained within that simple statement, and it’s worth more than every dollar in my vast bank account.

  I turn my head and press a soft kiss to his forehead. He leans into my touch, tightening his grip on the front of my shirt and wiggling his ass against my erection again.

  “Can w-w-we have sex n-n-now?” he asks, sounding the slightest bit breathless, an almost irresistible edge of neediness in his voice.

  I chuckle, my lips still against his forehead. “Not so fast, sweetheart.” I pull back and card my fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you understand why I didn’t tell you the truth sooner, but I still think you should take a night to sleep on things, to let them settle.”

  Emerson frowns. “I d-don’t need to,” he says stubbornly before purposefully grinding his ass against my erection again, with a pointed look like he thinks he’s winning this round.

  I slide my hand down to his thigh, holding him in place and thrusting my hard, throbbing cock against him. His smug smile widens. Silly boy. I lean in, brushing my nose against his earlobe and then giving it a playful nip. Emerson shivers, his own cock hardening between his legs, thickening, and starting to stand up.

  “Daddy said no,” I whisper near his ear, and his breath catches and then turns into a frustrated whine. “Here are your options: we can take a swim, finish our snack, and then crawl into my big, soft bed and fall asleep together.”

  “Or?” he asks, eyeing the pool. He doesn’t seem opposed to option one; he just wants to see what’s behind door number two before he commits. Smart boy.

  “Or you can get dressed and I’ll drive you home. Then I can come pick you up in the morning and take you to breakfast so we can talk more.”

  “The first one,” he answers quickly.

  “I was hoping that’s the one you would pick,” I confess, lifting him off my lap and setting him back down beside me.

  He starts to protest until he realizes I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

  “C-can I help?” Emerson asks eagerly.

  Jesus, he’s sweet. I stop working the buttons open and stand up, turning to face him. “Go ahead and undress me,” I offer, letting my arms hang at my sides as he quickly gets up on his knees and picks up where I left off, undoing one button at a time until my shirt is hanging open. He lets out a quiet whimper, staring in awe at my chest covered in a blanket of auburn hair. I’ve been slacking on my gym time for the past year or so, my once firm muscles now covered by a soft layer.

  It’s clear Emerson isn’t disappointed by my lack of a six-pack, hurriedly pushing my shirt off and then running his greedy hands along my belly and up to my chest, his eyes devouring my body before returning to my face.

  “So sexy, Daddy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and brushing a kiss against the center of my chest, sending a rush of heat and affection all the way down to my toes.

  “Finish with my clothes, Brave Boy, so we can go for a swim.”

  He nods and gets back to work, undoing my belt and then opening my pants. My erection strains against my underwear, and my boy licks his lips, reaching for it.

  “Emerson.” I say his name sternly, and he pulls his hand back and looks up at me with a full-on pout.

  “I c-c-c-c-c…”

  “I said not tonight,” I remind him when he stops struggling with what he wants to say and licks his lips. His expression tightens, his pout turning more genuine, no longer appearing to be just for show. “What’s wrong?”

  He gives a sharp shake of his head, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and yanking them down. My cock springs free, thick and heavy with arousal. It sways between my legs, my balls just as weighty, aching for a relief that isn’t going to come tonight.

  I step out of my pants and underwear once they’re around my ankles and then offer a hand to Emerson to help him up. He puts his hand in mine, letting me guide him over to the pool.

  “You do know how to swim, don’t you?” I check, stopping just short of the pool steps.

  He ro
lls his eyes. These are the types of things it’s easy to miss over texting. I had him pegged as an all-around sweet, pliant boy, and he is, but there’s also the barest hint of a brat just waiting to feel secure enough to be unleashed. “Yes, Daddy,” he answers, sounding rather put out.

  “Too bad. You would’ve looked cute in the orange life vest I have stashed around here somewhere,” I tease, and he giggles.

  I step into the lukewarm water. Even with the heat outside, I prefer my pool be kept around eighty-five degrees. Emerson wades in behind me, making a pleased noise as the water surrounds him. Once we’re waist deep, he lets go of my hand and dives into the water, his body slicing through the calm surface as he swims to the far end of the pool and then flips around and swims back, clearly showing off.

  “Swim team?” I guess when he pops up in front of me again, splashing water in all directions.

  “All through h-high school,” he answers with a grin. “Would you really have m-m-made me wear a l-life jacket?”

  “If you needed one,” I reply simply, although I suspect we would’ve stayed in the shallow end if he couldn’t swim.

  He smiles, a sweet, hopeful kind of smile that warms me from the inside. But then a thought seems to occur to him. He tilts his head and wades a few feet in front of me.

  “Do you l-l-like a boy who y-you can baby?”

  “Age play?” I ask, and he nods. “To be honest, it’s not my particular kink. But I’m going to tip my hand here and tell you that I like you quite a bit, and if it’s something you need, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

  “No,” he answers. “I w-w-was going to s-s-ss-say the same.”

  I swim a little closer, and he playfully floats farther away with a teasing grin.

  “Okay, so we’ll both be adults,” I conclude.

  “N-naked adults,” he points out, looking down at our bare bodies, illuminated by the pool lights and distorted by the water.

  “Such a horny boy,” I tsk, reaching out and snagging him by the wrist. It’s easy to tug him close in the water, his body floating toward me while he laughs and then crashes into me. I wrap one arm around him and use my free hand to brush his wet hair off of his forehead.

  “Is that okay?” he asks, his voice dripping with insecurity.

  “More than okay,” I assure him, ducking my head for a kiss.

  I can taste the saltwater on his lips, contrasting the sweetness of the fruit he was munching on. He wraps his legs around my hips and his arms around my neck, trusting his full weight to me and parting his lips so I can ravage his mouth. His hard cock presses against my belly, my own bumping the curve of his ass while I coax his tongue to play with mine.

  “Daddy,” he whimpers, nearly trembling in my arms, squirming to hump his erection against me.

  “Shh.” I try to settle him, slowing the kisses to something sweeter, continuing to slide my tongue and my lips against his. My attempt at soothing seems to have the opposite effect, my boy tensing a bit, some of his pliancy vanishing. I break the kiss and look at him. “What’s wrong?” I ask for the second time, prepared to push it if I have to in order to find out what’s bothering him.

  Emerson starts to shake his head again but stops when he notices my stern expression. “Do you n-n-not w-w-w-w…” He pauses and licks his lips. “W-w-w-why w-w-w-w-…” He huffs in frustration, clearly getting himself too worked up and tongue-tied to get out what he’s trying to say.

  “Why won’t I fuck you tonight?” I guess, and he gives a sharp nod. “I already told you why. I want you to have a night to sleep on things, to be sure of your feelings before we jump into anything physical.”

  “W-w-we’ve had sex,” he says.

  In spite of the irritation and insecurity etched on his features, his statement brings a smile to my lips—still tingling from our kiss. I’ve been with too many men who only consider it sex if there’s penetration, relegating everything else to lesser. The fact that Emerson views the intimacy we’ve already shared as equally valuable as in-person sex speaks volumes. It’s not about where someone sticks their dick or even about getting each other off. Sex is about choosing to share the deepest possible level of intimacy with someone, and I think Emerson might be the first man I’ve been with who understands that.

  “Then humor me,” I suggest. “I want to spend the night drunk on just your lips, imagining the pleasure we’ll find in each other’s bodies later. A little delayed gratification never hurt anyone, has it?”

  “Debatable,” he groans, thrusting against me again. “But you do w-w-want me?”

  “Oh, my Brave Boy, I want you more than I want my next breath.”

  He smiles and then offers me his sweetly parted lips again, his eyelids fluttering closed before my mouth even meets his.

  We swim and kiss until our hands are pruned and both of our stomachs are growling, and then we get out of the pool and dry off. We lie down on the patio couch, Emerson tucked close with one leg hitched over mine, his head resting in the crook of my arm, and feed each other bites of fruit and cheese until the tray is nothing but crumbs.

  While we eat, we talk again about books and some of Emerson’s favorite plays.

  “I w-w-wanted to try out for West S-s-ss-side Story so bad in high school,” he confesses, licking the last bit of watermelon juice off of his fingers.

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask, and he fixes me with a look that screams be serious. “I would’ve been in the audience every night.” I kiss the top of his head.

  “You’re too n-n-nice; you’ll ruin m-me,” he warns.

  “Good, then I’ll have to keep you all for myself.”

  The look Emerson gives me is full of disbelief and hope. He’s not sure yet that I really want to keep him. That’s okay; I have all the time in the world to prove it to him.

  Eventually, he starts to yawn. I usher him inside, leaving him alone for a few minutes to get ready for bed. I tidy up my bedroom a little and straighten out my sheets, climbing under them and resting my back against the headboard to wait for him.

  When he comes out of the bathroom, there’s a shyness about him again that’s absolutely endearing. He almost tiptoes to the empty side of the bed and then lingers there, waiting for my permission to get in.

  “Come here, sexy boy.” I pull back the sheet and crook a finger at him. He grins and climbs in, scooting close to me. “I thought I’d read a chapter for you. Do you remember where we left off last time?” I check, picking my book up off the nightstand while Emerson rests his head against my thigh. He nods while I card my fingers through his drying hair, clearing my throat and picking up at the chapter where I left off when I read to him the other night on the phone.

  It only takes a few pages before he’s snoring softly. I tuck my bookmark back between the pages and carefully sink down to lay my head on the pillow, moving his head up to my chest. He murmurs something sleepily, wrapping his arms around me as if he’s afraid I’m going to get away.

  Silly boy. As if I’d go anywhere when my bed finally has my boy in it.

  Chapter 15

  Emerson

  The unfamiliar surroundings when I open my eyes should be disorienting, but even still half-asleep, I remember every second of last night. Kiernan’s arms around me, his lips on mine in the pool, the tender way he fed me fruit and cheese while we lay on the patio couch, the deep, soothing voice reading me to sleep. It was the most incredible night of my entire life.

  He’s still fast asleep while I slowly wake up. I’m not sure if he did it consciously or we simply ended up this way during the night, but his body is spooned around me, holding me close. The vast expanse of his bare skin is hot against mine, both of us slightly sticky with sweat. His cock is resting against my butt, half hard but fucking massive.

  I wiggle against him and feel it thicken and stiffen. My hole flutters, and my own cock gets hard, imagining him rolling me onto my belly, pinning me down, and sinking inside me. My breath catches at the thought.

  I w
ant to feel trapped under him. I want both of my hands caught in his and held over my head so I’m at his mercy while he uses me for his pleasure. My hand twitches toward my erection, but I know I shouldn’t touch…not until Daddy says so anyway. Fuck, that thought forces another quiet gasp from my lips, my cock throbbing.

  Kiernan makes a rumbly noise in his sleep, the sound vibrating against my back. He tightens his arms around me, but otherwise seems to stay asleep. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. It’s not easy. I feel like a teenager discovering my own dick for the first time. I’ve been with plenty of men over the years, but never anyone I could tell my fantasies to or trusted enough to explore my kinkier whims with. Until now.

  It’s exhilarating and centering all at once. Somehow, I feel like a live wire and yet unbelievably calm at the same time. I think it’s because I know Kiernan will take care of me.

  I squirm in his arms until his grasp on me loosens enough that I can roll over to face him. His face is placid with sleep, so I take the opportunity to simply stare at him. I’m still having a hard time believing I got everything I was hoping for. Not only that Kiernan was the one on the other side of the computer screen, but that he seems to be just as perfect of a Daddy in real life as he seemed to be online.

  As much as I wanted to tempt him into fucking me right there in the pool last night, I’m glad he didn’t. If all I am to him is a quick fuck, he could’ve had me already and then put me in a car and sent me home. But he didn’t. He kissed me like it was the only thing he wanted to do and then fed me snacks and read me to sleep. It made me feel…cared for. Emotion tightens around my throat. It’s been a long time since I felt as important to someone as Kiernan made me feel last night. Not since my grandpa died.

  I run my fingers over the wiry hair of his beard, and the muscles in his face twitch. His eyelids flutter but don’t quite open. He must be a very sound sleeper. I grin, a sense of mischief filling me as I wonder what I’d have to do to wake him up.