Pretty Boy

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Pretty Boy Page 15

by K. M. Neuhold


  For some reason, this is funnier than it should be. I giggle a bit at the stern, concerned look that would no doubt be written all over his face. It only takes a few seconds for the giggles to turn to a sob, a few more tears falling as I think back to that night, holed up in the bathroom with a pair of kitchen scissors clutched tight in my hand, taunts I’d heard all day long at school filling my head. They said if they looked like me, they’d kill themselves, and at the time I thought maybe they were right. What did an ugly boy like me have to live for?

  I wrap my arms around myself and take deep breaths until I manage to stop crying quite so hard. At the time I thought I was a coward when I lifted the scissors to my wrist and didn’t manage to do nothing with them. But maybe I was strong. They said they’d’ve killed themselves if they were me…well, maybe I was stronger than any of them. I was strong enough to keep going.

  That realization settles over me in a thick, heavy blanket, comforting part of my soul that needs soothing the most and mending a few parts back together that’ve been badly cracked.

  I set the book down and stand up, pulling my shirt up to wipe my face clean of all the tears before going in search of Barrett.

  Barrett

  It’s obvious Sterling’s been crying when he shuffles into the living room to stand in front of me. I reach for the remote to turn off the tv, so I can give him my full attention. My heart aches at the sight of his puffy, red eyes and tear stained cheeks. I want to pull him into my arms and tell him he doesn’t have to come up with a compliment; he doesn’t have to do anything that’s going to make him cry like this. I want to kiss each tear away individually and replace them with my favorite look of shy joy, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be quite so happy.

  “I thought of somethin’,” he announces, holding his head up high and surprising me with a look of confidence I haven’t seen in his eyes before. Defiance, sure, but not confidence.

  I pat my lap, and he doesn’t hesitate before climbing on, one leg on either side of mine, his hands braced against my chest. He sniffles, and I lean forward to kiss one damp cheek and then the other.

  “Tell me, sweetheart,” I encourage him, putting my hands on his thighs to ground him, so he knows I’m right here for him.

  “I’m strong. I coulda given up a long time ago, but I kept fightin’.”

  I squeeze his thighs and kiss his cheeks again and then his forehead. “You are strong,” I agree. “And beautiful and smart,” I add. “Even though I know you can’t say those ones out loud just yet.”

  He shakes his head and clenches his eyes closed. He’s trembling just enough that it almost feels like he might come apart at any second if I don’t hold him together. So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Sweeping him into my arms, I stand up from the couch, carrying him out of the living room and up the steps to our bedroom.

  He hangs on tight, burying his face into the crook of my neck and making muffled, sad little sounds that grow slightly more frantic until I feel his lips against my skin. He kisses the side of my neck, my throat, the hard edge of my jaw, my chin, and finally my lips. I can taste the salty tears on his mouth as I part my lips to kiss him back, soft and needy at the same time, keeping one eye open so I don’t run into a wall on my way to the bedroom.

  Sterling makes a breathless sound against my lips as I lower him onto the bed, my muscles barely straining under the weight of him. He’s my perfect boy in every way—petite enough to carry, but sturdy enough not to break, sweeter than hell but with a sassy mouth and set of claws when he needs them, needy in just the right way. I couldn’t have dreamed a more perfect man, and yet here he is in my arms, in my bed, moaning Daddy against my lips as I deftly unbutton his pants and shove them down with one hand.

  His mouth moves against mine, soft and slow, his body writhing beneath me. My heart and my life feel so incredibly full with Sterling in them. The feeling inside is almost too much to stand and somehow not enough at the same time. Love…it’s love.

  A surge of possessiveness and protectiveness rises up inside me at this realization. I’ve played with plenty of boys through the years, but I’ve never wanted…no needed…to keep one the way I need Sterling. I want to spend the rest of my life showering him with everything his heart desires, reading to him, spanking his perfect little ass, being everything he needs in a Daddy and a lover. Forever.

  I break the kiss and look down at him with a sense of awe spilling from every cell in my body. His dark hair is mussed, his cheeks rosy with arousal, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks up at me with the same feeling shining through his eyes.

  I cup his jaw, my heart hammering hard against my ribcage. Running my thumb gently along the curve of his cheek, just beneath the edges of his birthmark, I’m almost certain this feeling is going to get so big it will burst out of me and leave me nothing but a shell.

  “I love you, beautiful boy.”

  He gasps at my words, his eyes going wide. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, maybe a shy smile, happiness filling his eyes, my feelings returned if the universe is feeling generous toward me today. What I absolutely don’t expect is the way his expression goes from shocked to anger, his jaw hardening and his entire body tensing beneath me.

  “Don’t say that,” he grits out between his teeth, squirming in a half-hearted attempt to get me off of him.

  I scrunch my eyebrows together, searching his face for answers as to where I went wrong. “Don’t tell you I love you?”

  “No.” He pushes on my thighs and when that doesn’t budge me, he starts to shove against my chest.

  “The only way I’m moving is if you safeword,” I say firmly and then pray like hell he doesn’t, because we need to discuss whatever’s upsetting him. I’ll let him up if I have to, but I won’t like it.

  He huffs in frustration and then sniffles and stops fighting against me. “Just, don’t say it,” he says more softly this time, a hint of desperation in his voice like he’s seconds away from coming apart at the seams.

  “You don’t have to say it back,” I tell him gently. “I need you to know how I feel, that’s all.”

  “No,” Sterling says again, his voice cracking on the single syllable. “You can’t.”

  “I can’t what?” He’s not making any sense.

  “Stop it,” he says again, returning to his attempts to squirm out from under me. I get ahold of his arms, pinning them over his head, both of his wrists grasped in a single hand.

  “Use your words, sweetheart. I can’t be a good Daddy if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I’m not beautiful.” He thrashes and bucks, but nowhere near hard enough to dislodge me. And since he still hasn’t used his safeword, I stay firm. “You can’t love me. It’s not true.”

  My heart stutters to a halt and starts to ache for him. My sweet, perfect boy.

  “You’re wrong, Pretty Boy,” I insist, putting more force behind my words. “And you’re not going anywhere until you believe me.”

  “No,” he whimpers helplessly as I reach for the length of soft rope in the top drawer of my nightstand. We haven’t played with bondage yet, but I think something to ground him will help him hear what he needs to.

  Sterling continues to wiggle and make noises of protest as I get his shirt over his head and then tie his wrists, making a loose knot in the right spot to avoid pressure points, and securing them to the headboard. When I’m done, I check his fingers and the ropes to make sure it’s not too tight, and then shuffle down to get his pants the rest of the way off. It’s breathtaking to see him naked and tied to the bed. The navy blue sheets offset his creamy skin in a way that makes him look ethereal.

  He’s still now, looking up at me warily, his cheeks still pink, now more from exertion than from arousal. God damn, he looks incredible wearing nothing but ropes and my cage, but fucking him is the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. It’s not what he needs right now.

  I lean close and brush a kiss against the e
dge of his birthmark on his cheek. “You’re absolutely breathtaking,” I say, pressing a second, firmer kiss less than an inch over, right beside his nose where his skin darkens to almost a purple color.

  “No,” he gasps.

  “Yes.” My tone is firm and unwavering, but his eyes are still full of disbelief. I kiss the rest of his face, every inch equally before trailing my lips down along his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs under my kiss as he swallows. “You are beautiful and stunning and so sexy I can hardly keep my wits about me.”

  “No.” This one is more of a whisper, his voice raw and strained.

  “Yes.” I drag my fingertips along his belly, not quite as flat as it was when I first brought him home. He’s eating better now, filling out exactly the way he should. “You’re smart and kind. Your heart is just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

  Sterling thrashes his head from side to side, his breath hitching like he’s trying hard not to cry. It’s okay if he cries. The tears can be a baptism that will wash away all of the ugly thoughts that were put into his head by ugly people.

  I kiss my way up one arm until I reach his fingers and then kiss each one individually. “You’ve made my life better by being in it,” I tell him as I kiss just below the binding on his wrist and then move over to start on the next arm.

  “Daddy, stop,” he pleads, still not using his safeword. “It’s not true. It hurts too much if I—” The words catch on a shuddering breath, and he swallows hard, squeezing his eyes closed.

  “It’s okay, my sweet, beautiful, perfect boy,” I murmur, kissing the center of his chest, feeling the way his heart is hammering. “It’s okay to let yourself believe. I want you to believe me. I’m your Daddy, and I would never lie to you.”

  He makes a strangled, almost wounded noise from between clenched teeth. “I can’t.”

  “You can,” I insist, kissing down his belly until I reach his belly button and then dipping my tongue inside before continuing my journey with my lips down to his hip bone. “You’re the strongest, most amazing man I’ve ever met. I’m so in awe of you and so desperately in love with you.”

  This time a full sob falls from his lips. I crawl back up his body to find his cheeks stained with tears, more large droplets still streaming from his eyes and rolling over his skin. Now that he’s lost his battle with holding them in, more gasping sobs rack him, shaking his body and bursting from his lips.

  “It’s okay, Pretty Boy,” I assure him, kissing each tear away as it falls. “Daddy’s here, and I’ll remind you every day just how perfect you are until you believe it, until you can feel that it’s true.”

  I let him cry it out, untying his hands and gathering him into my arms. Sterling curls against my body, burying his face against my chest and bathing us both with his tears. I run my hands up and down the soft, smooth skin of his back until he eventually settles, sniffling and breathing more slowly.

  When he finally lifts his head to look at me, I see a new strength shining through his eyes. “You love me,” he says in a hoarse voice. It’s not a question. My heart swells, and a smile curves on my lips. Dipping my head down, I press my forehead against his.

  “I do. So much.”

  “I…” he swallows and licks his lips, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “I love you too Daddy. It’s so scary, but—”

  I cut him off with a firm kiss against his mouth, getting addicted all over again to the way his lips yield to mine, the way they soften and part for him. I can taste the salt from his tears and his own sweet declaration of love.

  “You never have to be afraid. Do you know why?” I ask.

  “Because you’ll take care of me?” he guesses.

  “That’s right. I will always take care of you.”

  “I need you to fuck me, Daddy,” he begs hoarsely. “I need to feel you inside me so I know it’s true.”

  I groan, kissing him again, blanketing his body with my own and parting his lips with my tongue. I run my fingers through his hair, grabbing a fistful to keep him firmly against me and grinding my hips slowly against him. My cock is achingly hard, but my boy’s sweet mouth almost feels like everything I’ll ever need. I could sustain myself with the taste of his lips for the rest of my life.

  Eventually, I reach into the nightstand to grab the lube and the key for his cock cage. He doesn’t get hard as soon as I unlock it, but his cock does lay plump and half-interested against his thigh while I strip out of my clothes and toss them aside.

  Slicking my fingers with the lube, I slip them between his ass cheeks to find his sweet little pucker, bringing our lips back together at the same time that I slip a finger inside. Sterling gasps into my mouth, his inner muscles fluttering around me, his legs parting wider and his back arching.

  I add a second finger, then a third, fucking him carefully and greedily devouring each sound he feeds me. His cock is fully hard now, bumping against me and leaving droplets of precum clinging to my skin. Sterling grapples and grabs at my arms, sinking his fingernails in and whimpering around my tongue when I crook my fingers to find his prostate.

  Once he’s soft and pliant around my fingers, I ease them out and line myself up.

  Unlike the last time, there isn’t any frenzied slapping of skin or dirty words. There’s just my cock finding its home deep inside Sterling’s tight hole, filling him slowly until we’re fully connected, sharing heavy breaths and slow kisses.

  “I’m so in love with you, Pretty Boy,” I murmur again, nuzzling my nose against his and rocking my hips, his legs cradled around my waist and his fingers digging into my back.

  He gasps again, but this time he doesn’t protest and doesn’t cry. “I love you, Daddy,” he whispers.

  The words fill me more than anything else could, finding a home deep inside me and taking root there. I rock into him faster, filling him over and over. I never knew it was possible to feel this connected to anyone. Not just our bodies, our hearts and souls are connected, as cheesy as that sounds.

  Sterling cries out, the sound muffled against my lips. His channel tightens and starts to pulse around me, hot spurts of release hitting my skin as he trembles and gasps, giving himself over to the pleasure. With a roar, I follow him over the edge, filling him with my cum. The thought of flooding him, of his thighs sticky later with my release, makes the pleasure a thousand times more intense until I’m sure it might just kill me.

  I could sustain myself on nothing but his mouth. But this, this moment, it makes me a new man who lives to love this boy.

  Chapter‌ ‌20 ‌

  Sterling

  I don’t believe I’m on my way to France until we’re seated on the airplane. Even then, the huge, cushy first-class seats seem like more of a dream than any kinda reality that makes sense in my life.

  I glance over at Barrett, putting our bags into the overhead compartment, and I smile. Heck, my reality hardly makes sense anymore. But if being loved by him is a dream, I sure hope I never wake up.

  He takes the seat next to me, making himself comfortable.

  It seems like ages before everyone is on the plane and a man’s voice comes over the intercom letting us know how long the flight will be and all kinds of other stuff.

  “Now might be a good time to let you know that I hate flying,” Barrett says, and when I look over, he’s gripping the arms of his seat so hard his knuckles are white.

  It’s a bit startling to see the man who’s become my rock so unsteady himself, but it’s also nice to see him so human. It can be easy to forget that Daddies can get scared just like anybody else.

  I reach over and take his hand, giving him a serious look. “I got you, Daddy,” I assure him, and he chuckles, tightening his fingers around mine.

  “Thank you, little rabbit.”

  He gets a bit pale when we take off. I don’t really blame him; it’s mighty frightening the way the plane rattles a bit when it lifts off the ground. And I could go a lifetime without having my ears pop again and be perfectly ha
ppy. But I make sure to be strong and not let him see that I’m a mite nervous too.

  Once the plane is in the air, he seems to relax a lot, which is good. But just to make sure he doesn’t get scared again, I move the armrest out of the way and snuggle close to him while we watch a movie.

  Seventeen hours later, the plane touches down.

  As soon as our wheels are on the ground, Barrett is back in full Daddy mode, taking charge of everything to get us out of the airport and to our hotel. It was fun to comfort him for a change, but I’m glad to have things back to normal real quick.

  If I thought the hotel we stayed at during our drive to Vegas was fancy, this hotel is on a whole other level.

  “Look at the ocean,” I gasp, stepping out onto the balcony, the smell of salty water hitting me along with a sense of awe at the view.

  Barrett comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my middle. “It’s the Mediterranean Sea,” he corrects. “Specifically Riviera Ligure di Ponente.” The way his mouth caresses the words makes me grin. I tilt my head back so I can see him.

  “You sound hot when you speak French, Daddy.”

  He chuckles. “That was Italian.”

  I frown. “We’re in France, and that water is Italian?” I point out at the sea. “Whatever language it was, it was hot.”

  “I don’t know much Italian or French, but I guess I’ll have to learn some dirty phrases for you. Unless you’re particularly turned on by locations and geography.”

  I giggle. “Can’t say geography does it for me. But I’m pretty sure you could read me the phone book and make it sound sexy.”

  “Mmmm,” he hums, kissing the side of my neck. “Sounds like a fun challenge.”

  I sink back into his arms, relaxing and soaking up the impossible beauty of the moment until the feeling is so big inside me, I don’t know how I manage to stay in one piece.

  “Let’s go to the beach,” he says after a few minutes of silence.

  I crane my neck again and eye him skeptically. “It ain’t one of those nudie beaches is it?”

 

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