"Okay. Thank you."
"Of course. Good night, Sebastian."
"Good night, Daddy."
Chapter twelve
Sebastian
Itoss and turn on the couch for more than two hours. This is freaking torture. Being in the same apartment with my Daddy, yet lying in a separate bed, should be illegal.
Waking up on top of him this morning felt divine, and I want nothing more than to do it again.
Pouting, I throw the blanket off me and get up.
It's late enough. Daddy must already be asleep. Besides, he said he's a heavy sleeper, which is perfect for what I have planned.
I grab my backpack, the one I brought specifically for this, and pull out the small cameras. I'll install them in every corner. I need to be thorough and not miss a spot. Daddy deserves to be seen from every angle.
For protection purposes. Only.
Humming softly, I get to work. Installing them is easy and doesn't take long. I check the feed on my phone. Everything seems perfect.
Next, I move to the door and add a device that will alert me whenever it opens or closes. Lastly, I tuck trackers into every pair of Daddy's shoes. He has plenty, but I came prepared.
Someone may say this is over the top or breaking boundaries. To me, it's just my love language.
My Daddy's safety always comes first.
And I know better than most how many lunatics are out there in the world. They'll never touch him. Because I'm crazier than them.
Now that I'm done, the yearning to be close to Daddy comes back with a vengeance. It won't hurt to just peek in on him, right? I'll watch from afar like the good boy I am.
On silent feet, I make my way down the corridor. His bedroom door is left slightly ajar. Was that on purpose?
Did he know I'd come?
Did hewantme to?
Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously, he must know who he belongs to.
Tiptoeing closer, I peek inside. Daddy is on his back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other splayed across the bed. His breathing is steady, his chest rising and falling slowly. The night lamp is still on, casting warm light over his relaxed features.
He looks breathtaking. But then again, he always does.
I sink down to the floor, cross-legged beside his bed. I want to climb in, press myself to him, force his arms to wrap around me. I want to explore every dip of muscle, every line of him, brand him into my memory… brand myself into him.
The sheet slips lower as he shifts, baring his naked body. My breath hitches when I see him fully. His cock lies soft against his thigh, still impressive, still perfect.
I can't stop staring.
All I hear is the ringing in my ears, the voice in my head chanting,touch, lick, claim.
Even if the Devil himself was breathing down my neck, he wouldn't have been able to stop me from inching closer. Just one taste. Just one.
I flick my tongue over the head, and the flavor makes me shudder. Sweet. Hot. Addicting. Dreams never did him justice.
I bit my lip hard to silence a moan.
