Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
OREN
Keane’s sitting on the bed when I come back in, my journal propped open on his knee, thoroughly engrossed in my filthy fantasies. His sleeves are rolled, his tie draped carelessly over the headboard, and his eyes find me like I’ve just walked into court about to testify against myself.
My stomach flips. My throat goes dry.
“Interesting reading.” His voice is smooth, casual. He taps the page with one long finger. “Tell me, Oren. Was that just a story? Or was that a request?”
I want to melt into the carpet. My mouth opens and closes. I can’t lie, not when he’s looking at me like that.
“It was—” My voice squeaks. I clear my throat. “It was kind of a request.”
“Kind of?”
His brows lift. He’s savoring every second of this, the bastard.
“Because it sounds very specific. A custom Daddy mouth plug. That doesn’t read like fiction to me.”
Heat burns my face. My knees wobble.
“I was just—just writing.”
“Mm.”
He leans back, studying me, lips twitching as if he’s fighting a smile.
“So you don’t want me to shut you up? You don’t want me to fill that smart little mouth until you can’t talk anymore?”
A strangled sound escapes me. I don’t know if it’s a protest or a plea. All the bravado I felt earlier when I was flirting drains from my body in my next breath.
Keane pats his thigh. “Come here.”
My legs move before my brain catches up. I stand in front of him, staring at the way his gaze sharpens, heavy and knowing.
“Say it,” he murmurs, low enough to curl straight into my belly. “Tell Daddy what you want him to do.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. My face is so hot it could catch fire.
He waits, patient, silent, until I squirm, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears.
“Keane—”
“Not my name.” His voice hardens, and it shoots straight through me. “Try again.”
My knees nearly give. “Daddy,” I whisper.
“Better.” His hand cups my jaw, gaze falling on my lips. “Now use your words. Tell me what that dirty little brain of yours was begging for when you wrote it down.”
“I…” My throat is tight. Embarrassment and need are warring, twisting, tangling. My voice cracks when I finally force it out. “I want you to shut me up.”
He tilts his head, not satisfied. “How?”
God. He’s going to make me spell it out. My heart’s about to beat its way out of my chest.
“With—with your—” My breath hitches. I can’t believe I’m saying it. “With your cock.”
His eyes flash. His lips curve wickedly.
“Good boy,” he says, and I nearly come apart just from that.
My pulse is thundering so hard I feel it in my teeth. He hasn’t even touched me yet, not really, and I’m already trembling.
Keane strokes his thumb over my lip again, slow, deliberate. His eyes pin me in place as if I’m under oath.
“Such filthy words from such a pretty mouth,” he murmurs. “And yet, you say them so sweetly.”
I swallow, but it doesn’t help. My throat feels raw just from the thought of what I asked for.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?” His voice is even, but the look in his eyes isn’t. It’s hungry. Sharp. “To hear you beg me for it instead of hiding behind your journal?”
Shame burns bright in my chest, but it’s laced with this wild, electric relief.
“I wasn’t ready,” I whisper.
He nods once. “I know. That’s why I waited. But now—” His hand slides down my throat, not squeezing, just resting, heavy and claiming. “Now you’re ready to say it out loud. To ask Daddy for exactly what you need.”
My knees wobble, and I bite my lip so hard it hurts.
He shakes his head, catching my chin between his fingers to make me let go.
“No hiding. No biting back the words. You want to be silenced? Then prove you’re brave enough to tell me. Every dirty little detail.”
I can’t breathe. My chest heaves as though I’ve just run a mile. The words claw at my throat, desperate, humiliating.
“Say it,” he orders softly. “Beg me properly. Beg your Daddy to use you like the boy in your story.”
My face crumples. My whole body feels like it’s about to fly apart.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please, Daddy—shut me up. Use me. I need it.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and dangerous. I’ve just handed him the keys to lock me up forever.
“Better,” he says. His thumb presses against my lips, easing them open. “Much better. But I think you can beg prettier than that.”
My voice is nothing but a thin raw thread, and still it won’t stay small. He wants words, and I keep giving them, even though every one feels like stepping closer to a cliff’s edge.
“Please,” I whisper, the single syllable cracking.
“Please, Daddy. Please… don’t make me say it like a joke.
Don’t make me hide it. I need you to… to do what I wrote.
” My hands twist together in my lap, knuckles white.
“I need you to stop my mouth. I need you to make me quiet because I can’t make myself be quiet.
I—” I suck a breath in, panic and want tangling.
“I’ll do anything. I’ll take whatever you decide. I just—please.”
Keane’s thumb strokes slow circles against my cheek like a metronome. He waits, patient and terrible and kind all at once, letting me spill the rest of myself out.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low. “Tell Daddy how you want it. Tell me why you need it.”
His eyes burn into mine, and I feel naked and protected at the same time.
Words tumble out in a rush, humiliating and honest.
“Because my head won’t stop. Because I talk to fill the holes, and it only makes them bigger.
Because when you shut me up with… with what we talked about, I feel less afraid.
I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like I’m yours.
” My cheeks are wet. I don’t bother to hide it.
“Please, Daddy. Be the thing I can come home to. Be the thing that silences the noise and puts me in Little space.”
He lets out a soft, approving sound that makes something inside me unclench.
“Good,” he says. “Good, good, good.” His voice repeats the word like a benediction, slow and sure. “You asked for brave things, baby. You put them down on the page. You came back and read them. That’s courage.”
I beg again because I can’t not. Begging is the only honest currency I have here.
“Please don’t stop until I mean it for myself. Please don’t let me hide away again. Please… keep me.”
Keane’s grip tightens just enough at the base of my skull to ground me.
“I will,” he promises, every syllable slow and certain. “I’ll make you feel quiet because you choose it, not because you’re scared. And when I let you go, you’ll still be strong. You’ll still be you.”
The words wash through me, leaving a wake of relief. They're not what I thought I wanted—this is more. The pleading loosens from my throat into something deeper: trust. A sob chokes my throat, and I feel him fold around me like shelter.
“Now say it one more time,” he whispers. “Say it so I hear the part that matters.”
“I want to be yours,” I breathe. “Completely. I want you to be the only voice that matters. Please, Daddy.”
He answers with a hush that is both command and comfort.
“Then be mine tonight. Keep talking when you need to and be quiet when you want to. I’ll be here to teach you the difference.”
And even as my plea hangs in the dark between us, I know the tease will go on a little longer—because he likes my honesty, because he likes making me beg, and because every second of delay deepens the promise.
My body eases into him, my voice growing small as the tremors slow.
The wanting is still there, hot and insistent, but underneath it is an unshakable certainty that he will hold me through it.
Keane’s touch slows, steadies—measured in a way that makes me feel both undone and cared for. His hands map me as if he’s memorizing every shiver, every stuttered breath, every place I arch into him without thinking.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, voice rough velvet.
The words hit low in my gut, pulling a sound from me I can’t swallow back. My body thrums, all wound tight, every nerve tuned to the drag of his palm, the press of his body, the weight of his presence hemming me in, keeping me guarded even as he pushes me higher.
He opens his pants just enough to free his dick, as if that’s all I’ve earned of him.
His big hand fists his thick cock, stroking it slowly.
My mouth waters to taste him. With his gaze fixed on me, he comes closer and sits on the edge of the mattress, thighs spread wide.
His balls hang heavy, filled with the load I’m dying to swallow.
“Come here, boy. On your knees.”
I scramble to obey, settling on his plush carpet, with my face just inches from his dick. My cock throbs, begging for attention, but I won’t touch it until Daddy tells me I can come.
Keane taps the head of his cock against my chin, smearing precum over my skin.
“Open up,” he commands.
He feeds me the wet tip, sliding it over my waiting tongue. His bittersweet flavor blooms in my mouth, and I salivate for another taste.
“Suck Daddy’s tip. Convince me I want to give you the whole thing.”
Oh, God, ohgodohgodohgod, he’s gonna make me sticky before I’m told to come.
Swirling my tongue around his fat head, I use my lips softly, not sucking, just a teasing kiss, a caress and a promise of more. My tongue pokes into his slit to catch another drop of mana.
“That’s good, baby. Can you handle a bit more?”
He knows I can, but the question just sounds hot as fuck, as if my mouth’s too little to take my Daddy’s big cock.
I nod my head, refusing to surrender his dick.
Daddy rewards me with another two inches.
He’s thick, veiny, and hot, and I can’t breathe around his shaft.
He fills my entire mouth until all I can taste is Keane, his precum, his skin, and his promise to use my throat until it’s raw.
“If you need me to stop, just tap my knee. Otherwise, I won’t stop until I’ve plugged your mouth properly and I watch you struggle to swallow my load. Got it?”
Fuck, yes. You bet I’ve got it. But I nod for him.
“Good boy, now suck. Prove to Daddy your mouth is worthy of my cock.”
He follows the rough command with a gentle brush of his thumb over my jaw, feeling where it’s stretched wide at the hinge. I bet he loves that, knowing how hard I have to work to accommodate his girth.
My mouth gets sloppy fast—saliva running down my chin to drip onto my cock, my eyes watering as he pushes deep, my nose running as I try to breathe through it. The snot mixes with my saliva, and I taste it in my mouth.
“That’s my boy, show Daddy your sacrifice.”
Ungh, fuck. This man is pure filth and fire. Desperate for relief, I squeeze my thighs together, putting pressure on my swollen sac, but the move throws off my rhythm, making my teeth accidentally graze his sensitive cock. Keane punishes me by squeezing my nostrils.
He pegs me with a hard look. “Watch those teeth. If you can’t do your absolute best, I’ll just have to find another hole to plug.”
Jesus crap, please plug another hole. Plug them all.
“Focus, Oren.” His reprimand is gentle but firm.
Redoubling my efforts, I suck and slurp until Keane groans, head tilted back in pleasure.
His grip on my jaw tightens, and I know he’s close.
I take him to the back of my throat and try to swallow so that he feels my throat convulse.
His shaft throbs on my tongue and a moment later, warm pulses of cum fill my mouth.
Pride and a sense of accomplishment flood me. I did that. I made Keane come with my talented mouth. Before I can finish another thought, Keane grabs under my arms and hoists me up, dragging me over his body. I collapse over his chest as he lies back.
“Come here, boy. Sit on Daddy’s face.”
The fuck? I’ve never… okay, don’t ask me twice.
He tugs me forward until I’ve planted my knees on either side of his face.
His mouth settles into my crease, his nose poking at my hole.
It’s soon replaced with his warm tongue, sliding over my opening, lapping at my rim to loosen it.
The sensation makes it quiver with need, and Daddy uses the opportunity to slide inside me.
He stiffens his tongue and fucks my hole, and I take that as silent permission to touch myself, finally.
I wish I could last because this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done, and I absolutely love it, but… Nope, I’m gonna come any second. I can feel it building low in my belly, my ass clenching around his tongue, and the wave of tightened muscles as my entire body gives in and releases at once.
It’s almost dizzying. “Daddy, please…”
Please don’t stop.
Please tongue-fuck my ass until eternity.
Please do this again tomorrow morning.
Please be mine forever!
With a chuckle, he rolls me easily, guiding me onto my side and pulling me flush against the solid wall of his chest. The shift leaves me breathless, boneless in his hold, but held—always his. I don’t even think before tilting my face up and finding his mouth.
The kiss steals the last of me. Keane’s lips are warm, unhurried, commanding without force.
When his tongue slides along mine—velvety and thick—I shudder.
Heat blooms low in my belly, spilling outward until I feel molten in his arms. I melt into him completely, every inch of me aligning with every inch of him, until there’s no space between us and never should be.
My hand curls into his hair, anchoring myself as if he might vanish if I let go. But he only deepens the kiss, patient and thorough, until my body hums with the slow, sure certainty of belonging.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, voice rumbling through me as much as I hear it.
Wasn’t that the point of plugging my mouth? I let out a lazy little hum, cheek pressed against his shirt.
“Happy quiet,” I whisper, eyelids fluttering shut.
He chuckles again, softer this time, and presses a kiss into my hair. I sink deeper, feeling the sharp edges inside me dull, soothed by the warmth of his breath and the strength of his arms.
For once, I don’t feel like I have to say a thing. He already knows.