CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DRAVEN
The last fewdays have been fucking miserable. Dillon has been cranky, refusing to eat or sleep for the most part. The entire house has been in a constant state o' sleep deprivation, trying to make the lad happy.
I am a wee bit jealous, iffn I’m honest. No one seems to give a shit how unhappy, cranky, and miserable I am. I’m heading back down to the study to get some work done after having laid the bairn down for his nap for the second time when the front door bursts open.
I’m positive I’m seeing things because the last time I checked with Everly, Tavish was still in his room in the basement o’ the mansion, with the door locked. He takes off toward the study, nae bothering to shut the door behind him.
“Tavish?” I gasp, even though I’m certain he isnae really there, and it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
He spins, and his eyes look up, up, up until they meet mine where I’m standing on a step midway down the staircase, staring at him incredulously. He drops his bag, dashing up the stairs to me. I’ve barely gotten my wits about me enough to catch him when he launches himself into my arms.
“Viking Daddy!” he yells.
“Don’t mind the rest me, I’ll just close the door and move the bairn away from the Laird’s bedchamber. God kens ye two will wake the dead for who kens how long,” Mack says as he shuts the door.
Tavish giggles in my arms; the sound is the happiest, most light filled sound I’ve ever heard.
“Ghille, what are ye doing here?” I ask, but honestly, I dinnae care about the whys or the hows. I’m just so fucking ecstatic to have him in my arms.
“I came home, Viking Daddy.”
“That’s nae becoming a thing,” I tell him, turning toward the bedroom. Our bedroom. The one I’ve nae been able to set foot in since returning from America.
More giggles, then he rains a deluge o’ kisses on my face. “Yes, it is. I told Everly it was your new name.”
I shake my head at the boy’s antics as I walk into our room. I kick the door shut behind me, then toss him onto the bed. I pull off my shirt over my head, then I rip the belt off, the thwap o' the leather leaving the belt loops followed by a crack that echoes in the room, has the boy’s full attention.
“Daddy, I really think a funishment is in order.”
I smirk at him as I push my pants down. “Ye do, do ye?”
“Ummm hmmm. I do.”
“And what if I said a punishment is in order? Ye have kept me waiting while ye screwed yer head on straight.”
He dissolves into a fit o' laughter and snorts, and I’m barely able to understand what he’s saying. Finally, I get that he’s laughing because I called him straight.
“I like cock too much to be straight.”
I pull his shoes off, then strip him the rest o' the way down, kissing, licking and biting at all the gorgeous flesh I uncover.
“Daddy, we really need to talk about the funishment. I think my ass and your belt needs to be friends.”
“Oh, really. And how would we go about making them friends?”
He taps his chin as if in thought. His eyes light up like a Christmas tree, then he says, “A spanking. It’s the bestest way.”
“Mo ghille donn, ye are ridiculous.”
“Please, Daddy!”
I kiss the boy, teasing him until he’s a squirmy mess under me, but when his legs move to wrap around my waist, I pull away from him. I flip him over onto his hands and knees, pulling him back to my chest. I grab my belt and drape it around his neck before knee walking us to the headboard.
I curl his hands over the wood and growl, “Dinnae move,” before biting down on his neck.
He yelps, and from my position, thanks to my height, I can see how excited he is. He’s leaking precum all over the bedding. My mouth waters at the sight, but I push that away and pull open the nightstand drawer. Most o' the equipment I have for bondage is most likely too big for the boy since it was all made with Simon in mind, but the rope in my nightstand is one size fits all.
