“I want to be the one who takes care of you,” he said. “Is that okay, baby?”
“Yeah,” I rasped. “Uh, I mean, yes, Daddy. Please, um, do that.”
That… might be the reason I’d come back, if I was being honest. Thank fuck he was offering, though, because I don’t think I had it in me to ask. And sure, it was going to suck to have to go back to regular hookups once Andy got tired of doing this Daddy shit with me, but until then, fuck. Fine. I'd admit it. I wanted it. And not just because I needed some dick—because let’s be real, I could find that anywhere—but because fuck if everything didn’t feel a million times more intense this way, with Andy telling me what to do and then telling me how good I was when I actually did it.
“Can I, um, can I suck you off now, as long as I don’t touch my dick?” I asked, licking my lips.
Andy rubbed a finger over them. “You can give me your mouth,” he said. “But no sucking yet. Just let me in, sweetheart, and remember that I’m in charge.”
He kept one hand on the back of my head and popped the button of his fly open with the other while he was talking, and fuck, that was all it took for me to screw up. Forget and reach for my dick, my mouth fuckingsalivating.
“Stop,” Andy said firmly, his grip tightening on the back of my head to keep me in place when I lurched forward to get some. “What did I just tell you?”
I blanked, suddenly so horny I couldn’t think. But… uh…
“To, uh, not to jerk off while I blow you, and… you’re in charge,” I said, wanting to just lean forward a little but more so I could grab his zipper in my teeth and yank it down.
Couldn't, though. Andy didn't let me.
“That’s right,” he said. “and if it helps, you can keep your hands behind your back.”
“Do I have to?” I asked, jerking my eyes up to his as my heart rate suddenly went into double time. The idea freaked me out for some reason. Or… maybe turned me on? I couldn’t tell which.
“You never have to do anything you don’t want to,” Andy said, which was… what, disappointing?
God, I really was fucked up. OfcourseI didn’t want to do shit that I didn’t want to do. Who would? But it would still be easier—and a fuck-ton hotter—to know what it was I actuallydidwant if Andy would just figure it out for me and then tell me to do it, the way he had before, instead of making a suggestion that had my stomach going all squirrelly again and then expecting me to know what the fuck to do with that.
And damn if Andy didn’t somehow understand all that even though I hadn’t said a word, because he slipped a couple of fingers into my mouth, rubbing them over my tongue, and said, “Put your hands behind your back, Jordan.”
I relaxed, my hands snapping behind me like his voice was some kind of override switch, shutting down the noise in my head and settling all my nerves. I grabbed my wrists and locked them together, more of that fuzzy-bliss sensation from before starting to creep into the edges of my brain when he smiled down at me.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, slipping his fingers back out of my mouth. “Everything I ever wanted.”
Oh fuck. I was so screwed.
“Open,” Andy said, tugging my head back toward his bulge, still without taking his cock out, and fitting my mouth around the wet denim.
I moaned, closing my eyes and letting him use me again, and he kept right on talking as he did it, just like he had before, telling me shit that was way too good to be true and exactly what a needy bitch like me secretly wanted to believe. It made my brain slow down even more and my cock start to throb harder with every word, with every breath, as if every beat of my heart was the one that would set it off and have me coming untouched in my pants.
My mouth had been open for so long that it was getting dry again, but I gave zero fucks as long as it was still making him happy… and it was. I could taste salt, his precum leaking right through the denim when he moved my mouth over his cockhead and held it there, rocked into it, used me like a stroker, moved one hand back down to my chin and opened me even wider as he swelled against my tongue, his hips thrusting against my face and making me feel fuckingowned.
Then he pulled my head away, and fuck if I didn't whine like a desperate pet.
“Eyes on me, petal,” he said, breathing hard as he finally unzipped, pushing his jeans and boxers down just far enough to get his dick out. And... shit, was it the world’s most perfect cock, or had he put some kind of spell on me? I mean, it was just a dick. Cut. Good-sized, but not big enough to make my ass cringe. A decent width with a little curve in it. But I swear to fuck, I’d never wanted one more.
I licked my lips, swallowing a few times to get my mouth wet again, and Andy tugged my hair sharply, making my eyes shoot up to meet his.
He was grinning. “When I said eyes on me, I meant up here, not on my cock.”
“Sorry,” I lied.
“I like it when you look at me, sweetheart,” Andy said, stroking himself a few times. “I don’t want you to forget who you’re with. Who you belong to right now.”
“You,” I said, not even playing. I was totally his... and pretty sure it wasn’t just a “right now” thing. I had been ever since he’d pushed me up against the wall that first time I’d come over, when he’d shown me that I’d never been kissed right before.
It was definitely a stupid thing to feel—and probably should have been scary as fuck, too—but I was already too gone to worry about that. Freaking the fuck out about it later, though? Definitely on the agenda.
“Open for me,” he said, stroking my cheek bones... my lips... petting my whole face and then running his fingers through my hair until I felt drugged-out and hazy and followed his directions on pure autopilot, wanting him to keep looking at me like that even more than I wanted my own dick stroked. Which, for the record, I definitely wanted, too. Would have already had myself in hand if he hadn’t told me not to. But damn, this was better. This could go on forever and I’d gladly die of blue balls to have it.
