Too compliant.
After what happened—after the belt, the clamps, the way his hard, juicy cock erupted so violently—is hereallythis settled?
Or is he playing possum, waiting for the next opening?
That’s the thing. Despite everything, the way we connected when the punishment became so sensual, he’s still a Galkin deep down. Or perhaps not even that deep down. Mikhail is a known master of deception and subterfuge. Perhaps the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree in Landon’s case.
But anyway, I have to leave in twenty minutes.
Viktor summoned me to the usual diner. No excuses, no delays. I can’t take him with me. Can’t leave him unbound and unsupervised either. Not after last night.
I make the decision before I can talk myself out of it.
I cross the room in four strides.
Landon looks up as my shadow falls across his page. Green eyes wide, questioning.
I don’t speak. Just extend my hand.
The boy hesitates—only a heartbeat—then sets the pencil down and places his fingers in mine.
“With me,” I command and pull the boy to his feet, then lead him through the archway into the kitchen. “Move.”
The wooden bench sits against the far wall—long, sturdy, built into the island like an afterthought. Perfect height. Perfect purpose.
I stop in front of it and release his hand.
“Strip,” I say, my voice low. Calm. “To your briefs.”
“Daddy?” Landon asks, but does as I command.
Color floods his cheeks instantly. He glances toward the windows—even though the glass is tinted one-way—then back at me. Flustered. But not frightened.
His hands move to the hem of the t-shirt. He pulls it over his head in one slow motion, hair ruffling as he goes. Chest bare, his nipples already tightening in the cool air.
He’s now naked except for the thin, flimsy briefs that are cut high on his appetizing upper legs. He stands there, arms loose at his sides, chin up, waiting.
My cock stirs behind my zipper. It hardens fast.
I smile—slow, wicked.
“Good boy.”
I step closer. Close enough that he has to tilt his head back to meet my eyes.
“On your knees,” I command.
He sinks immediately. Graceful. Obedient.
I unbuckle my belt. Undo my trousers. Free myself.
My cock is thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip.
“Open,” I growl. “You’ve got a big cock, but Daddy’s isbigger.”
Without hesitation, his lips part and I guide myself into his mouth—slow at first, letting him adjust—then deeper. His tongue swirls. He hollows his cheeks. Takes me like he was made for it.
I thread fingers through his hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Guiding the rhythm.
