Pretty Boy

by K. M. Neuhold

  “Fantastic,” he says, his lips twitching in what is the equivalent of a full grin in the world of Alden’s bland facial expressions.

  “You bringing a date this time?” Kiernan asks with a hint of teasing. It’s been over a year since Alden has showed up at one of our fundraisers with a date, and it’s become quite the topic of conversation, not just among the four of us, but with our donors and many of the pretty arm candy who tend to show up at every event with a different date each time.

  “Unlikely,” he answers, taking a sip of his wine.

  “Quite a persistent dry spell you’ve been going through,” Lorna notes.

  “Is it a dry spell if it’s self-imposed?” Alden asks, sounding rather bored by the topic. “All of the boys at the club have lost my interest, and you know how I feel about playing with anyone new to the lifestyle.”

  “That’s the problem, you want someone you have to work for, but experienced boys aren’t likely to scratch that itch,” I point out, and he grunts in agreement.

  The waiter appears to take our orders. I order for Sterling again and earn another secret little smile in return, stowing it away against my heart for safe keeping.

  The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. My friends are perfectly polite and even do their best to include Sterling in conversation as much as possible. He’s quiet, but seems to grow more comfortable as dinner wears on. By the time we walk back to the car, my hand on his lower back, his body leaning into my touch, he seems relatively at ease.

  “Did you have a good time?” I ask, opening the car door and ushering him inside. Once he’s seated, I duck inside to buckle his seatbelt, brushing a kiss against his lips in the process. I can feel the shape of his smile against my mouth, and it sends a jolt of happiness through me.

  “I did. The food was so good, and your friends were nice.”

  “I told you.” I smirk before closing the door and going around to my own side to get in.

  “Is being smug a Daddy thing or is it specific to you?” he asks, startling a laugh out of me.

  “I suppose it’s probably a me thing,” I answer.

  “Good to know.”

  When we get home, I lead him upstairs so we can both get changed into something more comfortable. Sterling starts to unbutton his shirt as soon as we’re inside the walk-in closet, but I stop him, replacing his fingers with my own.

  “Oh right, you said dressing your boys is a thing you like to do,” he remembers, standing still for me so I can get each button open before slipping the shirt off his shoulders.

  “I do,” I say fondly. “It’s one of my favorite things, actually.” I move on to his pants next, feeling the bulge of his cock cage as I pull the zipper down.

  “Really?” He seems surprised by that.

  “Sure. Why, were you expecting something else?”

  His ear tips pink, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m tugging his pants down now, leaving him standing in nothing but a pair of tight, blue briefs, or because he’s shy about the answer to that question.

  “I figured your favorite would be something…” he trails off, and it’s not hard to guess where he’s going with this.

  “I love pleasuring my boys sexually,” I say matter-of-factly, dropping to my knees so I can coax each one of his legs up to remove his pants fully. He puts a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he lifts one foot and then the other. “But, there’s something so intimate to me about this part. I like the connection.” I lean in and press a gentle kiss against his belly, and Sterling giggles and squirms.

  “Sorry, that tickled.”

  “You can laugh,” I assure him.

  I get back to my feet, tossing his clothes into the hamper and grabbing one of my over-large t-shirts again. He lifts his arms obediently when I hold it up, making it easy for me to slip over his head. He looks so sweet and so utterly mine, that it fills my chest and makes me ache to touch him. So I do. I pull him into my arms, grabbing his perky ass in both hands and kissing his mouth hard this time, taking my fill of his lips until I’m hard and nearly panting.

  “Daddy,” he says breathlessly.

  “Go get in bed, Pretty Boy,” I tell him, and his skin pinks again. “There’s a stack of books on my nightstand, pick one for me to read to you.”

  “Books?” he repeats, the lust clearing from his eyes, replaced by confusion. “But…” he looks down at the tent in my suit pants.

  “Not everything is about sex,” I tell him with amusement. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but I love intimacy with my boy even more, and tonight I just want him in my arms. Besides, sometimes the anticipation is half the fun. By the time I unlock the cage, he’ll be begging for me, and that’s more than worth waiting for.

  He licks his lips and nods. I give his ass a playful swat as he turns around to leave the closet and do as I said. I undress slowly, tugging on a pair of pajama pants and following him into the bedroom. I find Sterling in bed with Stranger in a Strange Land on his lap.

  “I saw this one once, and I wanted to read it, but it looked so long, I figured it would take me half a lifetime to get through at the rate I read,” he explains.

  “Perfect, we’ll read it together.” I pull back the covers and make myself comfortable with my back against the headboard. He shuffles down and lays his head on my lap, the perfect spot for me to stroke his hair while I hold the book in one hand and start to read.

  Chapter‌ ‌14‌

  Sterling

  Aged paper scratches my upper lip as I lift a book close to my nose and breathe in deeply. I always thought there was something magical about books, the way they can transport you to a whole other world, and there ain’t nothing quite like the smell of a book.

  “Book sniffers u-unite,” Em says, punctuating it with his signature giggle. “I read somewhere that the sss-smell is from Lll-l-...dammit,” he huffs in irritation at himself before taking a deep breath and trying again. “Lignin in the wood the p-paper’s made from. When it d-d-…breaks down it sss-smells like vanilla.”

  I take another deep breath. “Yeah, it kinda does, I guess,” I agree with a smile. My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket, and I pull it out to see that it’s my alarm going off to remind me I need to get home so I can get ready for the gala tonight.

  “Something wrong?” Em asks.

  “Nah, jus’ gotta go to this fancy pants thing tonight that I’m dreadin’,” I admit, shelving the last book in my stack and standing up.

  “I love fancy ppp-pants things,” he says, his face going all dreamy at the idea.

  “You can go for me,” I joke.

  “W-why don’t you want to?”

  “I feel so dang outta place. Daddy…I mean Barrett—” My face heats at my slip up, and I glance over at Em to see his reaction. He cocks his head and grins at me.

  “Oh man, you have a D-d-daddy? Jealous,” he declares, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “You’re into that stuff?” I ask.

  “Fuck yeah,” he answers. “I mm-mean, theoretically. I’ve n-n-never actually…”

  “Yeah, me neither,” I admit with a nervous laugh. “Barrett’s my first. Well, he’s my first everything.” I brush the dust off my pants. “Anyway, he got me this expensive suit, and he seems really excited to take me.”

  “He p-p-probably wants to show you off.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Show me off?” I repeat, not understanding what he means.

  “Yeah, he’s p-proud to have you on his arm,” Em explains, but that only makes his statement more confusing.

  “You’ve seen me, right?” I say as lightly as I can, adding a laugh at the end, even as my stomach twists itself up in knots. “I ain’t nothin’ to show off.”

  Em frowns. “You’re totally hot. And if he’s dating you, I’m sure he thinks so too.”

  I squirm uncomfortably, ducking my head so he can’t see how red my cheeks are getting. “Thanks,” I mutter. I’m sure he’s just being nice. “I�
��d better go so I have time to get ready.”

  “Cool. H-h-have fun.”

  When I get home, I find Daddy in the library reading. As soon as he hears the door creak, he looks up from the thick book and smiles.

  “Hey there, little rabbit. Come here.” He pats his lap, and I happily cross the room to climb onto it. It’s become a nightly ritual for him to read to me in bed before we go to sleep, but we haven’t sat in the library like this since my first day here, which was only two weeks ago but feels like a whole lifetime longer than that. “I marked a paragraph I wanted to read to you,” he says, putting his arms around me so I can snuggle close, and then flipping back a few pages and reading. Just like always, his deep, soothing voice washes over me, transporting me to the world inside the book.

  “I like that,” I say when he’s finished reading.

  “I thought you would.” He sets the book down and tilts my face up to kiss me. I sink into his lips as soon as they touch mine, my body lighting up all at once. My cock tries to swell against the cage, becoming overly sensitive in every spot it rubs against the metal. It’s been a week since he put it on me, and he hasn’t touched me since. Well, that’s not exactly true. Barrett touches me almost constantly when we’re together, little kisses and brushing his fingers against my skin, cuddling at night…but all that’s done is make me ache for him more.

  “Daddy,” I groan against his mouth, wiggling on his lap until I can feel the hard press of his erection against my behind.

  “We have to get dressed or we’ll be late,” he says, and I groan again, this time in frustration. He breaks the kiss and doubt creeps in like it always manages to do. Why doesn’t he want me anymore? Can he not stomach doing the filthy things he did to me when we stayed the night at the hotel again? Has my ugly face burned itself into his brain and repulsed him? “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I want to tell him it’s nothing, climb off his lap, and go get dressed. If I ask him and he tells me I’m right, that he ain’t attracted to me, then what will I do? If he don’t want to fuck me, does he still want me to stay and be his boy?

  “Why don’t you want to touch me?” I finally blurt.

  Barrett’s eyebrows scrunch together, and he tightens his fingers against my thighs. “I’m touching you right now, Pretty Boy.”

  “No.” I squirm against him, still feeling the hardness between his legs. That has to mean he’s turned on by me, don’t it? “I mean, why don’t ya want to fuck me?”

  A wicked grin twists on his lips, and he yanks me closer until I’m completely flush against him, his thick arousal pressed against my cock, still straining inside the fancy cage. Barrett’s hands slide onto my backside, kneading my cheeks as he grazes his teeth against my earlobe. “I’ve laid awake the past four nights fantasizing about fucking you,” he whispers to me, his words a deep growl that sends a shiver down my spine and make my balls ache.

  “Then, why haven’t ya?” I grab fistfuls of his shirt, nuzzling his cheek and loving the way his wiry beard burns against my skin.

  “Because what we’ve been building is too important to rush things,” he answers, kissing along my throat and back up toward my lips. “Because, this is all new to you, and I wanted you to know this is about more than sex.” Heat pools in my belly as Barrett slips his hands up the back of my shirt, his fingers dancing along my spine. His mouth finally reaches mine, but he doesn’t kiss me full on the lips, instead, he teases my bottom lip with his tongue until I part them. “And, because, sometimes waiting makes it that much better.”

  I nod obediently, even though he didn’t ask me any questions, his tongue still tracing the shape of my lips until he finally shoves it inside. I moan around it, twisting his shirt in my fists and melting into him.

  I whimper when he breaks the kiss a second time, my cock leaking precum through the cage, even though I can’t get hard.

  “Trust me to know when the time is right, little rabbit.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I answer.

  Barrett stands, hefting me against his body at the same time, startling a squeaky sound from me. He chuckles, and I wrap my legs around his middle so I don’t fall.

  “Time to get dressed.” He carries me out of the library and up the stairs to the bedroom like I don’t weigh nothing. He takes me straight into the walk-in closet, setting me down in front of the mirror, and standing behind me. I look at him through the reflective surface while he undresses me one item of clothing at a time. Each piece he takes off of me, he gently kisses the back of my neck, and I think I get what he was saying downstairs. Things moved so fast with me coming here and all, it’s been nice to enjoy all of his affection without going straight to sex.

  Barrett strips me down until I’m completely bare, nothing but the cock cage hanging heavy between my legs, a smear of precum against my thigh, my balls full and aching. I’ll be a good boy and trust Daddy to know when the time is right, but dang, I hope it’s soon.

  He grabs the suit bag hanging among all his nice things, and reverses the process by dressing me up like I’m his favorite doll. I look into the mirror the whole time, mesmerized by the look on his face and unable to believe it’s meant for me…that he’s meant for me. My own face takes up my peripheral vision, the dark, blotchy birthmark always taunting me, but softened by Barrett in the frame. If he wants me, is it possible I ain’t so bad?

  “Perfect,” he says as he slips my top button into place and kissing my neck one last time. I want to tell him that I ain’t anything close to perfect, but the moment is too nice to spoil, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I lean back into him and smile when he wraps his arms around me. “Oops, almost forgot.” He pulls away to grab something out of the top drawer of the bureau a few feet away. He returns with a velvety box, popping it open to show me a pair of diamonds. “They’re cufflinks,” he explains, turning me around to face him.

  “These are too much, Daddy,” I protest as he slips the heavy cufflink through the hole in my sleeve.

  “Be a good boy and let me spoil you,” he insists, his voice firm, the words good boy making my heart beat just a little faster like they always do. I think I’d do just about anything if it meant I’d be his good boy, but these cufflinks prob’ly cost a fortune. It don’t sit right. I bite my lip against arguing and he chuckles. “I want you to behave, but don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” he teases, and I laugh along with him.

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gifts.” I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful or nothing. “I just don’t need them.”

  “No?” he asks, fastening the second one into place. “So, if I’d have driven into Billow in a rust bucket of a car and whisked you back here to a studio apartment, you’d still be happy with me?” The words sound casual, but I don’t miss the hint of insecurity underneath them. In a strange way, it makes me feel better to know that even a man as handsome and perfect as Barrett gets insecure sometimes too.

  I look up at him, slipping my hands out of his grasp and wrapping them around his neck. “I dunno,” I tease. “Would you still read to me?” I ask, and he nods, a slow smile creeping over his lips. “Then, I reckon I’d still be pretty happy.”

  I have to get up on my tiptoes to reach his lips, and I realize this is the first time I’ve kissed him. Barrett wraps his arms around me, lifting me up just enough that I don’t have to strain so much, and kisses me back so sweetly that it makes my throat tighten like I’m about to cry. Which is silly, because who the heck cries from a kiss? Even a kiss this dang good.

  He gets dressed next, and I watch shamelessly because there ain’t nothin’ like Barrett naked. The man should have statues made of him. Except, I’m not so sure I want anyone else to have the chance to drool over him the way I am. Maybe a private statue only I get to look at.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks with amusement as he slips his own cufflinks into place.

  “You,” I answer, which has been true since the day he walked into the bar and I told
him off for trying to tip me a hundred bucks. I smile at the memory.

  I bask in all these happy, glowy feelings up until the second we get out of the limo at the gala venue and I’m reminded just how out of place I am on Barrett’s arm. There are a couple of people with cameras waiting outside to snap pictures of us as we make our way in. I duck my head, my stomach clenching at the thought of my picture being splashed all over newspapers. I can’t imagine anyone would want to see a thing like that. Maybe they’ll crop me out…or maybe it’ll become a big headline: “Billionaire Philanthropist Seen With Some Ugly Hillbilly: Probably His Newest Charity Endeavor”

  “Jeez, it ain’t like you’re Brad Pitt or nothin’,” I mutter once we step through the doors to get inside.

  “I’m far more handsome than Brad Pitt,” he teases. “They probably won’t even use those pictures, but they always try to get a few to sell to the society pages or to hang onto in case I turn out to have a massive drug problem or I’m found out to be sex trafficking children or something heinous, then my picture will be worth millions.”

  “That sounds like a nightmare,” I mutter, shuddering at the thought of my picture being anywhere at all.

  I’m so busy imagining that horrible scenario that I don’t bother to take in the hall until Barrett’s led me all the way to a table. The place is…I don’t even know a stronger word than fancy, but dang that’s not enough. There’s crystal chandeliers, waiters carrying trays of champagne, and an orchestra playing on the stage.

  “I know I ain’t too smart about this stuff, but it seems like you spent a lotta money in order to make money for charity.”

  He laughs, snagging a glass off of one of the trays as the waiter passes. “It’s moronic, isn’t it? We have to fluff rich people to convince them to donate. If it was up to me, we’d skip this whole dog and pony show, but sadly this is what it takes to loosen wallets.” A woman in a long, red dress approaches, and he greets her enthusiastically, kissing her cheek and laying the compliments on thick. It’s a little funny to watch, so clearly not the real Barrett. I hang back, hoping nobody will notice me as long as I stay in the background. Of course, he ruins that plan in seconds, gesturing me forward and putting an arm around me.