I push it down. I’m not ready to leave Andrew. Not yet.
“Okay. No to the seedy motels. That’s a terrible idea. But… I want to be with you.”
He twists in my arms until we’re face to face. “Really?”
I run my thumb along his neck, gently brushing the would-be bond bite. “Yes, but we have to be careful. And you need to convince your father that things between us are over.”
“Even if it means… sleeping with other men?” he asks in a soft voice, his determination from earlier faltering.
I shake my head. “Not that. Never that. You should never feel forced to have sex.”
He visibly relaxes.
“If it’s alright with you, I don’t want to get paid for this weekend,” I say.
His eyes widen. “But we signed a contract—”
“A contract that we can rip up and forget about.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “This is important to me, baby boy. Money can’t be a part of our arrangement. I won’t settle for being your hired knot if we’re going to take this risk. This is a relationship for me.”
Andrew snuggles into me, tucking his head underneath my chin. “Okay, Daddy.”
He couldn’t be clearer about his need to be cared for in that moment. It’s not surprising. The conversation with his father was stressful, and the potential loss of our connection clearly shook him.
We have all night to figure out what will come next. For now, we can take a break.
“Would you read to me, baby boy? I’d like to hear what happens to Frankenstein’s monster.”
He pushes himself up and gives me a shy smile with a slight duck of his head. He did something similar when I suggested he get a sprinkle cone at the ice cream shop. I remember thinking it was sweet.
He climbs out of bed and walks across the room to where his suitcase is still open and spilling over with books. The way he moves is different than the way he walked on our way back to the hotel. His shoulders sway a little more with every step and his stride is shorter.
Almost like a child.
I’ve been in the BDSM community long enough to have an idea of what that might mean. There are some subs who regress to a younger age from time to time. I’ve never played with a boy like that before because they generally wanted relationships, and I’m muzzled.
When Andrew walks back to me with that specific gait, it feels a lot like watching someone slip into subspace. It’s milder, and he’s more coherent, but the change in him still elicits an emotional reaction in me. It’s not the heady thrill I sometimes get when I take control of a scene but rather a yearning to hold him in my arms and bring another smile to his sweet lips.
“Come sit on my lap, baby boy.”
As he gets onto the bed he almost jumps, just like he did at the ice cream shop. Then he stops himself, his movements more deliberate now as he climbs over to me.
“You can be yourself around me, you know,” I say as he sits in my lap. I wrap my arms around him. “You don’t have to hold back. I’m your Daddy now.”
He smiles with that sweet duck of his head, and my heart expands in my chest.
“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
He relaxes against me, tucking his head under my chin again. “I can’t believe it either.”
13
Andrew
Timber’s big warm arms hold me close as I read to him. The words of the book seem to wrap around me just as tight, until I’m lost in a floaty relaxation that I don’t want to ever end.
But eventually Timber stops me with a kiss and grabs the room service menu from the nightstand.
“What do you want to eat for lunch, baby boy?” he asks.
Now that he mentions it, I am hungry.
“Does anything look good?”
He scans the list of offerings. “I think I’ll have the chicken salad since I plan to laze about in bed with you all day.”
That sounds really nice. Not the chicken salad but spending the afternoon in bed with him.
“I think I’ll have the same.”
Timber raises one eyebrow. “You always order what I order. Why is that?”
It’s a trick I learned from my alpha father when we were meeting with potential mates. I don’t have the refined taste of most Blue Bloods, so it was less embarrassing to order the same thing as everyone else than order what I really wanted.
“I don’t know. Habit, I guess?”
Timber flips the menu over and hands it to me. The children’s selections are listed on that side. “They have grilled cheese and chicken fingers. Do either of those sound better to you?”
They do, but should I admit that to Timber? He’s already seen me eating playdough ice cream and sleeping with Frankie. What is he going to think of me?
He just agreed to be in a relationship with me. I don’t want to mess that up.
I point to the top of the menu. “It’s for people twelve and under.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Order what you want, baby boy. Whatever you want. You can be yourself around me.”
He keeps saying that.
I want to believe him.
“Grilled cheese and chicken fingers aren’t healthy,” I remind him.
Timber chuckles. “That’s true. How about this? If you order the grilled cheese, I promise you’ll get your exercise this afternoon.” He nuzzles the crook of my neck, near the would-be bond bite. “I’ll make it good for you, baby boy. Make your toes curl.”
Just like that, my body comes alive. It’s such a different feeling from the floaty happiness of reading with him. I no longer want chicken fingers; I want him.
“We could skip lunch,” I suggest, sliding my hand along his hard stomach. “Maybe do other things?”
His eyes burn into mine. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, baby boy. Not ever.”
God, I hope that’s true.
He hooks his hand behind my head and brings me in for a messy kiss, nipping at my bottom lip and diving into my mouth with his tongue. I close my eyes and let myself get lost in him.
Then he stops. “Fuck, baby. I’m having such a good time with you I keep forgetting we need to talk about what comes next. Let’s order lunch, okay? And while we eat, we can plan.”
Without thinking, I pout. I feel a little silly doing it, but the smile that comes to Timber’s lips makes my stomach flip. I think he likes it.
“You made me hard, Daddy.” I grab his hand playfully and bring it to my cock. Watching his eyes glaze over as his fingers close around me is just as thrilling as his touch. He really wants me. That still doesn’t seem real.
He lowers his mouth to the crook of my neck and sucks at the would-be bond bite. I can’t help it. I arch into him, the pain spiking through my body like a live wire. “Oh, Daddy. Please.”
“You’re being so naughty, baby boy,” he whispers in my ear. “I might have to punish you.”
I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. In my fantasies, Timber always said that in a manufactured way. Even when I dreamed of being with him, those dreams only felt good when they were somewhat realistic, and I never imagined Timber would want anything but money from me.