He’d whimper, push back, beg for more. I’d lube my fingers all the way to the knuckles, guide the boy firmly but with enough mischief to make him giggle nervously as he began to bounce.
And when I finally slide all the way inside him…damn.
He’d be tight, hot, overwhelming. I’d set a slow, punishing rhythm, one hand on his hip, the other tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make him moan.
“Please, Daddy…harder?—”
I stroke myself faster, water pounding down my back, breath coming in harsh pants.
I imagine flipping him over, spreading those thick thighs, watching his face as I drive into him. His eyes glassy, mouth open, completely undone.
“Come for me, boy,” I’d growl. “Come for Daddy without a hand on you.”
And he would—shaking, crying out, clenching around me so perfectly I’d follow right after, spilling deep inside him with a long, animalistic groan.
My orgasm hits hard, pleasure ripping through me as I brace against the shower wall, stroking through the aftershocks until I’m spent and shaking.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile, breathing hard.
Fuck.
If the fantasy is this good, the reality might actually kill me.
I finish showering, dry off, and fall into bed naked, sheets cool against my skin.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll see if he shows up.
And if he does?
Well.
We’ll see how good a boy he really is…
Chapter 5
Danny
Wow.
Maybe I shouldn’t have had that final beer after all…
The world tilts sideways as I fumble with the hotel key card, the little green light mocking me by refusing to blink on. Or maybe it's red. Everything's a bit blurry right now…
“Hmmm,” I say, trying to make sense of something that should be so basic.
The hallway spins like one of those carnival rides I used to love as a kid, but this isn't fun—it's queasy.
How many beers did I have at O’Malley’s?
I lost count after the third pitcher, but the live band was killer, and the crew was on fire, laughing and toasting to the affordable housing project like we were heroes.
"Damn it," I mutter, jabbing the card at the slot again.
It slips from my fingers and clatters to the carpet. Bending down to pick it up feels like a bad idea—my stomach lurches—but I do it anyway.
"Whoa, easy there, big guy," Taylor's voice booms from behind me, his hand steadying my shoulder. "You look like you're trying to pick a fight with the door."
