7
Slade
The words hadn’t even escaped my lips when I wished I could take them back. Jack’s eyes grew steely and cold. He wrenched my arms around, so they were pinned behind my back.
“Do you think you’re being funny right now, boy?” When my gaze fell to the floor, Jack captured both of my hands in one of his, using the other to tilt my head back so I had no choice but to look at him. “Answer me, boy.”
“Well, since the music thing doesn’t seem to be working so well, I figured I’d try my hand at comedy,” I quipped. “I’m hoping to take my stand-up routine on the road soon.”
It was apparent, I had absolutely zero self-preservation instinct. If I did, I wouldn’t have allowed Jack to stay in my apartment when I was too drunk to fend him off if he tried taking advantage of me. I would have told him to get the hell out of my bedroom when he walked in with toast in hand, as if I was incapable of feeding myself. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have taunted him.
I knew exactly what I was doing. He had warned me last night that if I kept calling him Daddy, I was going to pay the consequences. I had considered saying it again immediately, just to see if he would follow through but, deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. He had promised me nothing would happen last night when I was drunk, and I didn’t want to scare him off before getting him to help me. I’d heard some guys talk about how submitting let them stop worrying about all the bullshit in their minds. I wasn’t sure that was possible, but I’d reached the point I had nothing to lose. And, fuck, the idea of letting go and letting someone else deal with all the adult bullshit—even for just a few minutes—seemed worth whatever pain or humiliation came with it.
Jack’s grip tightened to the point of being almost painful.
“Don’t get smart with me, boy,” he warned. “You won’t be able to sit for a week if you keep that shit up.”
I hummed, licking my lips, trying to look as eager as possible. I arched my back, pressing my dick against Jack’s stomach. The air was knocked out of my lungs when Jack released me, and I fell back onto the bed. I grunted in pain when my head bounced on the lumpy mattress.
“The first thing you’re going to learn is I don’t appreciate little boys who try topping from the bottom.”
I cupped a hand over my junk, giving myself a quick squeeze. “Oh honey, there’s absolutely nothing little about this boy,” I quipped. “I am all man. Would you like to see?”
“You are a disrespectful little shit, that’s what you are.” Jack balanced on one leg, pulling up his sock before stepping into his shoe. He did the same with the other foot. The opportunity was slipping away for me.
No. Dammit. This is not how this morning was supposed to go. I had been awake for over an hour, curled up against the pillow Jack had used last night. I had everything planned out. I was going to get Jack to give me exactly what I needed in order to take off a bit of the edge that had been threatening to cut me for weeks now.
At the very least, I figured I could suck him off, swallow his load, and then jerk off later to the memory of how he felt, sounded, and tasted. I lunged off the bed, gripping his forearm tightly. “I’m sorry. Please, give me another chance.”
“Why should I?” Jack spat out without looking at me. “It’s obvious that you think this is a game.”
“It’s not,” I replied somberly. “I know that.”
Jack turned to face me. The arousal and irritation from earlier had been replaced by a dull sadness in his eyes. I slid my hands up his chest. It took great effort, but I finally whispered, “Please, Daddy. Give me a chance to prove this isn’t a joke to me. Iwantthis, but I’m scared, too. It’s not easy for me to step back and trust someone else the way I’m sure you’d demand.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow, then scrubbed a hand over his face, mumbling something I couldn’t understand. When he finally allowed his hand to drop to my shoulder, his eyes were a bit clearer. “You want to prove it to me, boy?”
I nodded, then remembered Jack’s earlier instruction about using my words. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”
Jack lifted a hand to cup my cheek. “I will be back at five-thirty tonight. If you’ve done everything I’ve instructed you to, then we can talk. If not, then we go our separate ways.”
I nodded, willing to agree to just about anything if he was going to give me what I needed. His fingers twisted in my hair, yanking tightly so that I looked at him. “I’m serious, Slade. There are no more second chances. If you want this, you’re going to have to prove it to me.”
“Okay, so what do I need to do?” Jack bowed and shook his head as he walked out of the room. I followed.
“I expect my boys to pay attention when I speak to them, Slade,” he explained as he walked toward the front door. He wouldn’t look at me and that hurt. I massaged my chest, trying to figure out why in the hell this mattered so much to me. Yesterday at this time, Jack hadn’t even been a blip on my radar, but now I was ready to fall to my knees, wrap my arms around his legs, and beg him to stay. The disappointment rolling off of him was nearly palpable, and I fucking hated that.
“I was… I mean, I will,” I corrected. “Tell me what I need to do. I’ll do anything.”
Jack held out his hand.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded. I scrunched up my nose and gaped at him. Seriously? This is what he wanted from me?
“Don’t keep me waiting, boy,” he warned.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, was the remote possibility of getting off with a sexy older man really worth all of this?
Yes, it absolutely was.
