So he slowed down and rubbed his swollen prostate.
He alternated between circling Emmett’s gland with the tips of his fingers and working them in and out of his channel. Two fingers moved to three before too long, Rooster barely able to hold back from driving his aching cock inside his boy.
Right after he wiggled a fourth finger inside him and spread them apart, stretching Emmett in the way he loved, he was rewarded for his patience when Emmett whimpered and began to beg.
“Please, please, please. Need you, Daddy.”
His boy’s pleas were like a shot of tequila straight into his veins, making him feel drunk and powerful at the same time. He kissed his panting mouth and murmured, “Right here, baby.”
Emmett’s fingers were digging into his upper arms as he trembled beneath him. “Need more. Please.”
“I know.”
He pushed upright as he pulled his fingers out, quickly slathering lube onto his cock and lining up. He didn’t waste time, pushing his dark head against his loosened hole until it popped inside. Sliding slowly in, he gripped Emmett’s dick with his wet hand and gave him a few strokes just to feel him clench down on his cock.
He grunted as he thrust forward. “So good, my perfect, sweet little boy.”
“Daddy.” Emmett was thrashing his head, nails digging into Rooster’s skin.
Once he was fully seated in his boy’s clenching heat, he settled himself back down over him, pressing their skin together and shoving his hands underneath so he could grip the back of Emmett’s shoulders. Then he pulled back his hips andthrust.
Emmett moaned loudly in his ear, so Rooster did it again and buried his face in Emmett’s damp neck, breathing in his sweet scent. He couldn’t pull all the way out with them pressed so closely together, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Emmett wrapped his arms and legs around Rooster’s body and held him tight, gasping and moaning in his ear over and over.
As they both neared the end, he raised his head and found Emmett’s glassy eyes, his lashes wet. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” Emmett said, the words barely more than a moan.
Rooster thrust in a little harder. “That’s right. And that means you’re mine, right?”
Emmett nodded immediately, but that wasn’t good enough. He needed the words.
“Say it, Emmett.”
It took several tries before more than just breathy sighs came out of Emmett’s mouth. “I’m yours, Daddy.”
“Damn straight,” he snarled, reaching between them to grip Emmett’s steely cock and giving it a few quick, rough tugs.
And that was all he needed.
Emmett threw his head back as every muscle in his body tensed, and then he was yelling out his release and scraping his nails down Rooster’s back. He hissed at the burn but didn’t slow down for even a second, his hips pistoning in and out of Emmett as he chased his own release. The tight, clenching heat felt so good, he couldn’t hold himself back for too long, flying over the edge with a shout.
It took him a while to be able to catch his breath and get feeling back in his limbs, but he was still faring better than Emmett, who was gazing up at the ceiling dazedly when Rooster came back from the bathroom with a rag. After he cleaned them up and climbed back into bed, Emmett stirred though, settling in against Rooster’s chest with a soft sigh.
Humming, Rooster ran a hand down the arm Emmett had thrown over his chest. “Good night, little boy. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
12
“Emmett!” Ollie squealed, sprinting toward him and Rooster the second they walked into the clubhouse.
Rooster chuckled and stepped back, leaving Emmett to be engulfed in the citrusy-scented arms of his friend. Which would have been fine, except Ollie was still holding a glass of what appeared to be a mimosa and almost spilled it all down his back.
“Whoops,” Ollie said, stepping back and grinning. “I promise this is only my second one. Do you want one?”
Emmett cast a questioning glance at his daddy, getting an indulgent smile and nod. Turning back to Ollie, he rocked up onto his toes in excitement. “Yes, please.”
“Come on.” Ollie grabbed his arm and led him over to where a table had been set up near the sitting area, club members with their own families—and Kenneth and CJ—already lingering around, most with flutes filled with orange juice and champagne in hand.
