I swear my cock actually springs free with a bouncy sound effect the moment it gets a run at freedom, but my gaze is locked on his.
When he doesn’t immediately reach for my erection, I nod with satisfaction. “Good.”
Miles whines, clearly expecting the other half of the statement.
“Open your mouth,” I tell him, inching my hips forward when he greedily complies, “but do not suck.”
There’s disbelief in those beautiful baby blues now, and that only makes me harder.
I groan as I slide between those parted lips, though. Miles’s mouth feels every bit as perfect as it looks. He keeps his jaw lax while I slowly rock my length in and out of the warm, wet space he’s offering, but I can see how badly he wants to close his lips around me.
“Uh-uh,” I waggle my index finger at him when he presses the heel of his palm down against his own crotch. “Boys who want to get on Santa’s nice list need to wait for permission to touch themselves.”
He whines again, this time squirming a bit.
“No, Miles.”
He goes rigid, cheeks impossibly pink. There’s a hint of panic in his eyes, along with embarrassment. During our debrief with Jake, I reminded Miles that standard safe word rules still apply, and if he needs to tap out all he has to do is say ‘red’ or ‘red light’. He’s experienced enough with club play that I trust he will do exactly that if he needs to.
Still, this is our first time together, and I wouldn’t be a good Daddy —or Dom, for that matter— if I didn’t check in.
“You okay? You’ve got permission to speak right now.”
He pulls back from my cock and nods. “I’m good, Daddy. Just…” Glancing away, he startles only a little when he seems to recall exactly where we are, but I don’t think the jolt in the set of his shoulders would be noticeable to anyone other than me. Swallowing roughly, he looks back up, “I…almost came.”
I’d thought he was exaggerating earlier about being on a hair-trigger, but the surge of pride and desire I feel at being responsible for taking him to the edge so quickly is somethingelse. My dick twitches, a dribble of the proof of how arousing Miles’s admission is taking us both a little by surprise.
I watch as his gaze tracks the fluid as it slips from my head and down my shaft.
“Lick that up,” I demand, then moan as he does.
It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to remind myself that I have a job to do here. That we’re roleplaying for the cameras.
Clearing my throat, my voice comes out gruff when I say, “You have to tell me when you get too close, Miles. Daddy doesn’t want you to make a mess in your jammies. Not on Christmas Eve.”
There, back on track. Kind of.
“I need to get back on your nice list,” he nods, once again pulling back from my dick, this time with even more reluctance than before. Then his lips curl and the defiance from earlier is back. “Unless you prefer naughty boys, Daddy?”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Chapter Five
Years of theater training. That’s what I put my burst of confidence down to. Theater training and my time spent at The Grove. What else could explain how perfectly easy it is to perform like this for these people and the cameras?
Dmitri’s dick, maybe?
It is a thing of beauty all on its own, it’s true. I mean, is he bigger than most of the men I’ve been with? No. Thicker? Also no. But there’s something about the perfect curve of it, the way it arches up to meet his soft belly, glaringly clean skinned while surrounded by so much inked flesh.
But…no. That beautiful cock is not the reason I’m so comfortable doing this.
Dmitri himself?
Yeah…that might be hitting closer to the mark. He’s big and tattooed and intimidating at first glance, but beneath that façade there’s a gentleness that settles me. Even when he was yanking my head backwards, it was controlled and done with care. Thepain he inflicted was just enough to ride that line between ‘ouch’ and ‘I’m about to come’. Literally.
I can’t believe how close I just got from a tiny bit of hair pulling and some firm words from a Daddy Dom.
Not just any Daddy Dom, though. MydreamDaddy Dom.
