Daddy's Home

by Landon Rockwell

  Cruz's eyes open. Even from several feet away, I can see the mixture of blue, green and yellow in his eyes, that same magical mixture that captured my breath more than it should have last night.

  He sits up, and all of the muscles in his stomach flex at once. There are six packs, and then there are his abs. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he has a fucking ten pack. His body looks like a Photoshop project. Perfect, like a sculpture dipped in bronze.

  My first words to him come out pretty harsh, but I mean them. "Why did you bring me here? I told you I didn't need a babysitter." I realize he could've left me for dead last night. Or that he could've done shit to me after I passed out that most guys wouldn't have hesitated to do. And by the way, he's definitely gay. My gaydar is always spot on…

  But just because he's a stand-up guy, it doesn't mean I want to be bossed around by him anymore. I absolutely need to let him know that he's not in charge of me.

  He shakes his head and looks immediately pissed off at me. "Really? Those are the first words out of your mouth? Then tell me… I had to pick you up, carry you up three flights of stairs, and then tuck you in bed, and you're arguing to me that you don't need a babysitter?”

  He reaches for his jeans and throws them back on faster than I’d like him to. He gets up from the couch and walks towards the kitchen area of his place and sticks a coffee pod into his Keurig machine. "You never asked, but my name's Blade by the way."

  I laugh. "Blade? Are you for real right now?" It doesn't sound familiar, but I wasn't all too sharp from the moment my plane landed.

  He scoffs and grabs a white T-shirt off his kitchen table. As he puts his shirt on, I notice the deep disappointment I feel as his chest and abs disappear under the veil of his shirt. “No, I'm not serious at all. But I thought maybe if I had a tougher name, you'd start listening to me a little bit more. My real name is Cruz, which, I already told you. Simple, but to the point."

  “Cruz is still pretty tough,” I say, flushing red.

  Get a grip, now.

  I'm surprised this guy can even lighten up enough to make jokes like this. He's been nothing but uptight from the moment I met him. Not so sure what's got his panties all in a bunch about watching over me until my father gets back, but I’m guessing he must owe my father something or other. "Cruz, that's easy enough. Do you remember my name?" I say.

  He rips open a sugar packet and completes his cup of coffee. "I wasn't the drunk one last night, remember? I was the responsible one trying to keep your ass out of trouble. So yes, I remember your name, Reese."

  Asshole.

  I hate being incarcerated by anyone, especially the all-knowing types like him, even if I am fighting back the jitters in my stomach and the throbbing in my cock every second I get near this man.

  Oh, and I don’t completely hate the way my first name sounds rolling off his tongue, but whatever.

  Either way, I sure as fuck am not staying here.

  I realize that I probably don't have access to my father's house anymore, also known as my house. However, it doesn't feel like much of a home if I don't have the access code to get in. All my shit should be arriving from L.A. by Monday. In the meantime, I'll have to plan on getting by with what's in my travel suitcase.

  This feeling isn't new to me. Not since my mom died anyways, which happened when I was eleven. I was raised by nannies and housekeepers ever since, so it's no shock that even as a 21-year-old, my father had to have somebody else pick me up from the airport instead of him doing it himself.

  I decide I might as well make myself comfortable. I sprawl out on Cruz's couch, over exaggerating how comfortable it feels to lie down on it. "I bet you've done some damage on this leather, is that true?" I say, my dick reacting instantly to my own words.

  Cruz grabs another sugar packet from his cabinet. "That's the difference between a kid with no real responsibilities and a man who has to fight his way through this world," he says.

  I sit up straighter, my eyes focused directly on his massive hands as he whips the spoon around in his coffee. "Enlighten me, wise man,” I say.

  He laughs. It's actually pretty sweet and genuine, a laugh that lets the serious side of him wash away for the moment. "That’s bullshit, Reese,” he says lightly. “I'm not that much older than you. Just more responsible. You really should decipher the difference someday.”

  I hate that I’m intrigued by this man in more ways than one.

  "I know, you keep reminding me every five seconds that I'm a clueless idiot with no real world sense,” I say.

  He walks right up to me, and he smells way too good for someone who just woke up from an uncomfortable night on the couch. My body tenses up as he gets closer. Cruz is all man, and he could smash my skull in if he chose to. But that's not the real reason I tense up...

  His muscles can barely breathe in those jeans of his, and I already got a good look at his package in his underwear, and as I said there is plenty to go around down there.

  Like I said, guys in their thirties and all…

  Huge. Turn. On.

  But his body is taking things to a whole new level.

  "Smell that," he says, holding the cup of coffee up in front of my nose. I smile, but do exactly what he says. “Best breakfast blend on the market,” he adds. It smells delicious, best coffee ever for sure. “You like that, don't you?"

  "I guess. What’s your point?”

  Cruz slides my legs off one of the couch cushions to make some room for him too. His gaze is intense, but his lips look like they're on the cusp of smiling. It's as though he's always in the ready position, even though part of him is desperate to lighten the fuck up. "No point, just felt you needed a whiff.”

  He flashes a confident, all-knowing grin. “Oh, and to answer your question. Yeah, I’ve done some serious damage on this couch,” he says, adding a wink before taking another sip from his cup.

  I swallow hard.

  He glances down at my leg that's creeping back up on his couch. “Just remember, there’s more to life than sex and booze, Reese.”

  Then it all comes flooding back… him talking about spanking me, me calling him Daddy. "You can’t be serious after that shit you said last night?" I say.

  He squints and buries his mouth in his coffee.

  “Didn’t think so,” I say. “You’re plenty young still, right?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about my capabilities, son. Not in any area of life,” he says.

  My cock starts to ache but I can’t resist defending myself. “I’m not your son. And let’s just be clear that I can leave whenever I want,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “No, you can’t. And honestly, you’re really beginning to try my patience. I haven’t asked for much out of you. A simple lift home from the airport from me for starters, and all I need you to do now is lay low until your father gets back. That's it. And considering I got the worst night's sleep I’ve had in a long time so that you could be comfortable, a goddamn thank you would do you fine." He lets out a deep breath and takes another sip from his coffee. “But I guess your parents never taught you that little trick. You know, showing some appreciation.”

  This time he actually strikes a real nerve in me. My mother was an amazing woman, and I don’t appreciate him including her in our conversation. I’m not even so sure that my father didn’t become an asshole simply because she died. She always taught me right from wrong, and that included being respectful, and doing shit like saying thank you when I needed to.

  Cruz doesn't know shit about me.

  I get up from the couch. “I’m leaving. Thanks for the fucking bed, even though I never asked for it to begin with. I never asked for any of this. I’ll leave you alone so you can get on with your virtuous life.”

  I pat down the pockets in my jeans and realize I don’t have my wallet or my phone. “Where’s my stuff?” I ask.

  “My bedroom, safe and sound.” He nods towards the room down the hall. "But seriously, you’re not going anywhere. You’re in
no state to leave right now.”

  I shake my head and immediately march down the hall and into his bedroom. I look around for my wallet, and can’t find it on his bureau or his nightstand.

  Fuck, I just want my shit.

  I go to open the top drawer to his nightstand, thinking he might have placed it there, out of sight. His place is ridiculously spotless as it is, it’d probably drive him nuts seeing any clutter around here.

  Great, found it.

  But I definitely spoke too soon.

  I grab my things and go to turn, only to run right into Cruz. I would have been better off running into a fucking brick wall. I ricochet off his citrus-scented body and onto his bed. His eyes snap together as he moves closer towards me.

  “Are you seriously doing this right now?” I ask.

  “I’m just keeping you safe, that’s all your father asked me to do.”

  I look at him, awed by the size of his body. No question he could pin me down and have his way with me, or tie me up for the entire weekend until my father comes back home.

  Luckily, both of those things would be illegal without my permission. And I’m willing to bet that Cruz isn’t insane enough to do either. My father may be a lot of things, but his judgment of character has always been spot on. Plus, how dangerous can a man who gave up his bed for me really be?

  I stand up and get right in front of his face. “Here we go again, Daddy.” I realize the second I call him that my dick starts to thicken in my jeans.

  Cruz grits his teeth together, as though he’s trying to hold back his anger, or something else even.

  I can’t stop trying to push his buttons. “It must suck that this is your first time acting like a real daddy and you have me as your kid. Am I right, Daddy?” I say.

  What am I doing? I hate that he thinks he can control me because he can’t. But I hate even more that I kind of want him to explode.

  On me.

  “I’m not your daddy. Leave if you want. You know I can’t really keep you here. You love to test me, because your real father isn’t here.”

  I know what he’s doing, and I’m not getting sucked into his game right now.

  I inch towards his mouth, determined to tell him off. But our mouths are so close it’s dangerous. He could rip my face off if I push him too far. He could rip something else off too.

  “You think you’re so much smarter than me? Look at you,” I say, looking his body up and down completely, "having to watch over me like this."

  I take a step or two back until I am sitting on his bed. I flash a wry grin. I’m done with games. “You want me to stop pushing you? Then force me to be good, Daddy.”

  His brows snap together like two elastic bands. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he says.

  I smile. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Come on now, show me why I need to listen to you. Show me why I’m so clueless and you know exactly what I need, Daddy.”

  This is insane, but I literally cannot stop myself. If he wants to play the I’m-so-mature-and-I-make-all-the-right-decisions kind of guy, then I’m going to bring him to the edge.

  I know Cruz thinks I’m attractive, and that he'd gladly fuck me if he could somehow get away with it, but I have no idea whether or not he’d ever snap completely and take that type of risk.

  At least the risk falls on him, right?

  If only I knew… I couldn't be more wrong.

  Cruz

  Why am I even pretending to play this stupid game with this dumb, arrogant kid right now? Okay, maybe dumb is a bit strong. There’s something behind those eyes of his that I didn’t quite expect when I first started texting with him from the airport last night. I just can’t tell what it is. And regardless, it doesn’t matter.

  Besides, my problems with Reese are growing by the second.

  My dick is on it’s way to full-tilt hard, but I refuse to let him know that.

  And now he's actually got the balls to test my will power to no end, lying in front of me like this on my own bed, his legs all wide and sprawled out.

  Do I want to pin his tight little body down on my bed and own that hole of his? Teach him a lesson or two?

  Fuck yeah, I do.

  But that one stupid move would spell my end. Because I need Gordon’s money and his business affiliation more than I need oxygen if I’m going to make a go at starting over, and showing those stiffs over at Kline Partners that they made a huge mistake by getting rid of me.

  The problem is, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a piece of ass this tight. So long, I’m almost embarrassed to admit it. My marriage with Jill put my real sexual wants, make that needs, on hold for way too long.

  So if there is any vulnerability on my end, it would the years of repression I had to endure. That and the fact that Reese basically fits the exact description of my ideal body type in a guy. Athletic and toned, beach blond hair, blue eyes, bumpy abs. And of course, I like them smaller than me so I can be the one in charge.

  Doesn’t matter, that’s neither here nor there. Fuck, why am I thinking about him like this? The moment I snap out of my daydream, I realize my dick has grown even more. This should be a major warning sign.

  But before I can execute a good decision and right this ship, Reese gets up from my bed and grabs my shirt. “Come on, Daddy. If you don’t take charge, real charge, then I promise you I will walk out of this fucking place and never come back. We both know you’re a lot stronger than me, but do you have the balls to be my real daddy right now?”

  My heart thumps in my chest as his hands clench my shirt. I grab his forearms, and heat shoots up my neck. Reese stumbles back and lands on my bed.

  I should be angry, not turned on. What the hell is the matter with me? Why am I letting him break me down like this? It’s so obvious what he’s doing, and I can't let some young buck jeopardize my entire future like this.

  But fuck, between him needing to keep up this whole daddy charade, and my need to keep him in line, maybe it’s not my fault that I'm currently finding myself in a slight predicament. He started this, not me. Jesus, listen to me... now I’m the one who sounds like a child.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest, and catch him glancing over at my bulging biceps. Good, because Reese needs to be real clear that I could knock him into next Saturday if I ever actually took him up on his devious little offer right now. Typically, once I get pushed past the point of no return, reason no longer plays a role in my decision-making.

  They learned that the hard way at Kline. Sure, I ended up getting kicked out, but not after putting up a killer fight. And they know who was in the right; I had to do what I did over there, even if it put my entire career at risk. So if I have to do what I have to do with this kid, I will. Whatever it takes to set the record straight and make it clear to him who's in charge here.

  And to give my body the release it’s begging for right about now.

  "Why are you doing this to me? You know you're acting like a child, don't you?" I say.

  He smirks. “And based on the fact that you just shoved me to your bed, you're finally beginning to act like a man. I've learned so much about you and in less than twenty-four hours. Such an easy read.”

  My heart starts to race even faster, between the way his legs are sprawled open and his wise-ass remarks.

  Such an easy read? Give me a break. Nobody's ever said that about me. “And what is it that you learned about me so fast, Reese?”

  "For one thing, you're afraid to let go. You keep so much shit inside. Part of you knows it. Like, I know you want to fuck me right now, but you're afraid to. You take everything so seriously. You won't let yourself do the things in life that you deserve to do. You love being in control, but you're afraid to go all the way with that. You know, you kind of go halfway in life which must suck at your age."

  Did he really just say all that? I bite down on my lower lip, trying to restrain myself from ripping his face off. Or, maybe I should pull my pants down, take my dick
out, and show him just how willing I am to take things all the way. Maybe that would shut his pouty little mouth up for a while.

  He has the nerve to go on and say, "See, you're doing it again… You're stewing, instead of doing. You really want to kick my ass? Then just do it. Or maybe you want to do something else, Daddy."

  My dick reaches full capacity and my hands form into tight fists.

  I should leave my bedroom immediately.

  For a lot of reasons.

  "And what about you? I'm no Sigmund Freud, but it seems like you have some pretty bad attachment issues yourself. What's the matter, did your mommy and daddy not hold you tight enough when you were a little baby?"

  Reese stares coldly at me. Good, the score is even. He stands up and gets right in front of my face, again. He's persistent, I'll give him that. "I'm not afraid to go for shit, I'll tell you that much. See what I mean," he says, reaching down and grabbing a handful of my cock. Fuck, he catches me so off-guard that I literally stumble backward and almost fall. A wicked laugh escaped his mouth. "I told you you're an easy read."

  I stumble to my feet and rush towards him. This time, I lose all sense of consciousness as I tackle him onto the bed. I pin his shoulders down hard against my mattress. Reese struggles to move, but he can't budge. Now I'm the one smirking, leaning over his body and pushing down on his shoulders.

  This is bad.

  Reese tries to break free. But try as he might, he isn't going anywhere without my permission. "Is this what you want?" I say, my voice low and raspy. "Is this what you fucking want, boy?" He had no business touching me like that. He needs to learn a lesson. He can't just go and grab my dick like that and not pay a price.

  He mutters something, but I can't quite make out his words. I lean in close and say, "What did you just say?"

  He mutters what seem like the same few words again, but his voice is low, partly because my knees are pinning him down by the shoulders and making it harder for him to talk. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," I say again.