Daddy suddenly snaps his hips up, and his hand goes into overdrive. Pleasure surges through me, and I bite my lip hard to avoid crying out.
“Sir?”
“Yes!” I say, immediately covering the mouth of the phone again as I spurt all over Daddy’s hand, my ass clenching around him painfully.
“Okay. We’ll have that to you in about twenty minutes. Will that work for you?”
My ass won’t stop pulsing around Daddy. He’s still stroking me, and it’s too much.
“Yes. Yes, that’s fine.” I reach out to put the phone back, but I can’t bend over again. I just can’t.
Daddy takes the phone from me and sets it on the receiver.
“You were so good, baby boy. Keep rocking on Daddy. Keep my knot hard. I haven’t come yet. I’m going to wait until I can fuck you properly.”
It’s easy at that point—letting his hands move me, my body humming from the easy pleasure of it all. I close my eyes and get lost in the sensation—the warmth of his hands, the fullness of his knot. I’m completely in the moment. I don’t need to think, all I have to do is feel.
At some point, he slowly moves my body until I’m facing the opposite direction and wraps his arms around me, guiding me to lie next to him in the bed.
There’s a knock on the outside door. “Shhhhh, baby boy. You don’t want room service to know that I’m fucking you, do you?”
I open my eyes in a panic. Room service is here, and Daddy is still making small circles with his hips.
“Tell them to come in and leave the food in the sitting room,” Daddy whispers, pressing his lips to the bite mark in the crook of my neck.
Somehow, I’m already hard again. At least room service won’t be able to see anything because of the bedroom door, but will they be able to hear?
“Come in!” I call out. “You can leave the food in the sitting room!”
I hear the outside door swing open and the rolling of a cart in the outer room. Daddy pushes deeper into me, and he’s right. My toes curl.
“Would you like anything else, Mr. Sullivan?” A female voice asks.
Daddy’s breath is hot on my neck, and his knot is still big inside me as the woman waits for my response.
“N-no. That’s everything!”
Plates clink in the other room and Daddy rolls his hips again.
“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Sullivan.” I hear the cart rolling away and the click of the door shutting behind the woman.
Daddy rolls on top of my body and drives into me with a force that makes the air leave my chest.
“Oh!”
Our bodies are slippery with sweat, so he has to grab the headboard for leverage as he pounds into me. My cock is trapped underneath my stomach, rubbing against the sheets. Daddy grabs my hair and yanks hard as he picks up speed.
“I’m going to fill you with my seed, baby boy. Breed you.”
He’s pegging my prostate now, and I clutch the sheets, powerless and pliant underneath him.
“Fill you so full with my cum.”
His thrusts become slower and harder, and I think I can feel it—his seed. Maybe that isn’t true. Maybe I’m imagining it. But God, it’s good.
Daddy fucks into me one last time, then collapses, sucking at the crook of my neck. The weight of him makes it hard to breathe, but I don’t mind. Peace washes over me as Daddy nips at my neck and shoulder, claiming me again and again. I could stay here with him forever. This is where I belong.
“See, baby boy? Ordering grilled cheese wasn’t that hard, was it?”
I laugh. I had forgotten all about that.
“It’s just that grilled cheese is for kids,” I try to explain. It even said so on the menu.
“Maybe that’s part of the appeal, baby boy. And that’s okay. I enjoy caring for you while you read to me or snuggle with Frankie. It makes me happy. Please don’t hide that part of yourself from me. I want to see it.”
I don’t know how to respond. We’ve only known each other for a short period of time, and yet it feels like Timber already understands me better than anyone.
“That part of me is bigger around you,” I say. That’s probably a weird way to describe it. At home, I find comfort in Frankie and my books, but around Timber, that comfort is thicker. It’s like the difference between water and molasses. It feels safer too. I can fully immerse myself and not be afraid of what might happen. I’m not even sure what I’ve been afraid of in the past. That I’d end up looking stupid in front of other people? I worry about it even when I’m alone. But with Timber, the fear is gone.
“Good,” Timber whispers in my ear. “Maybe the next time we see each other, we can explore it a little more? Would that be okay?”
I’m not sure what that would entail, but it sounds nice.
“Okay.”
We lie there in silence for a while as his knot goes down. I know we need to talk about how this relationship is going to work, but it was wonderful to read together and make love first. I think I needed that.
And I think Timber knew.
It’s funny. Love is so different than I thought it would be. I always imagined grand sweeping gestures in my youth—flowers, poetry, romantic dinners at fancy restaurants—but with Timber it’s cuddling in his lap, grilled cheese, and sex so good I’ll treasure the little reminders of our love every time my ass smarts.
Love with him fits me well.
“I think I can sneak you into my house,” I say. “I already have a car with a breathable trunk that I commissioned for my employee, Marjorie. When the courts were deciding how to handle my case, I wanted a way to escape if one of the Monroes ended up as my legal guardian.”
“That’s clever, baby boy.”
His praise feels good.
“You’ll get into the car at Marjorie’s place. She lives in a condo with an underground garage. It’s separate and private, and it has a door that connects to the main garage. I have a car I keep there, just in case. The day before our scheduled time together, we could get someone to pick up the car and drop it off at a different location. Then you’d drive to the location in some sort of disguise, get the car, drive to Marjorie’s building, and climb into her trunk before she comes to work.”
It’s not a perfect plan, but it will work until we can figure out something better. The reality is that Timber is not low profile, so no matter what we do, sneaking around is going to be complicated.
“Do you trust the people who work for you?” Timber asks.
“I don’t know.” A part of me has always assumed that some of them were being paid off by the Monroes to spy on me. In the past, it didn’t seem worth it to worry about it.
“Can you rearrange their schedules so there are a few days a week when no one is in the house but you and Marjorie?” he asks. He trusts my judgment about Marjorie. After being declared mentally incompetent by the courts, that’s nice.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“We’ll need burner phones. Have Marjorie arrange to meet with me about disbanding the contract, and she can give me the keys and the phone then. They may be following her as well, so make sure she’s careful when she buys the phones.”
Timber’s knot is soft now. He pulls out of me and gets up to retrieve our food. The plate of grilled cheese is still warm when he hands it to me.