Chapter 19 Cam #2
I groaned against his mouth. This was the moment when I told him to fuck off or something, and he made me regret the words, except…
Fuck, I couldn’t. I couldn’t focus. He was everywhere, filling all my senses with only a few strokes.
It was everything. His body heat, his scent—the spice that was half his body gel and half a remainder of the refuge that was an intrinsic part of him.
The soft grunts he gave whenever I pushed against him or tried to gain control of the kiss.
“Daddy.”
This time, I didn’t use the honorific because I had a request or needed reassurance. I used it because it was the only word within reach, the only thing that made sense.
“Give me three things you want today, and three things you definitely don’t want.”
I gasped. He squeezed the tip of my cock. I wasn’t sure how the sharp sensation was supposed to help, but I didn’t think questioning that would get me an answer. Or that I cared enough about it to expend the energy like that.
“I just want you to make me come, Daddy.”
The sound that came out of him was the perfect mixture of a startled laugh, a grunt, and condescension. I grew hot all over for it.
One quick glance confirmed that Damian was back at his place. I assumed he’d adjusted the AC or whatever it was, but it was hard to tell how I felt outside of how Daddy was making me feel.
“You’ve done this before, Cam?”
Huh?
I blinked as I focused back on him. “Exhibitionism?”
“For starters,” Daddy quipped.
I tried to hump him, but he moved out of the way. I mewled when he started circling me. It was hot.
“Yeah.” I remembered to breathe before I answered too. I was embarrassing myself enough as it was. “You can’t just assume I haven’t done stuff because of the diaper thing. Or the whip thing.”
Inadvertently, his gaze went back to my pierced dick. “Clearly.”
The piercings were just part of a rebellious phase I went through while I was in vet school, and not something I thought about half as much as I imagined most other people did.
I’d also cried a lot while getting them done, and I’d always be glad to the piercer Daddy who kept promising me it was okay and that he was not going to tell anyone.
Now, the piercings were great because they got the attention of all the Doms. Worked better than milkshakes—not that I’d really tried the latter.
“I don’t break easily.”
“Good.”
I closed my eyes. He hadn’t finished his circle around me, but I didn’t need eyes to feel him all the same, and I needed the darkness to think if I was going to make sense.
Three things I wanted, three things I didn’t want.
Breathe, Cam. Nothing you haven’t done before.
These talks weren’t ones I struggled with, dammit.
They didn’t mean as much as I was being led to believe this meant, either.
They were just talks. It was fine. Kink was fun, and it wasn’t something where I had to question who I was and how I held myself.
It didn’t go deeper than the needs in my body and the arousal that became everything.
“Pain.” I licked my lips. “Sharp.”
“Okay.” He traced my jawline with his knuckles. “What else?”
“More mouth action.”
He smirked. I worried for a second that it wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear, but clearly, I didn’t know him well enough.
“One more, Cam.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. It was that or embarrassing myself further because of the zing that traveled up my spine when he talked to me like that.
“Breath play. Just light stuff.”
“I can do that.” As if he was testing it, his knuckles trailed down the length of my neck, forcing me to tilt my head back against the padded rest he had crafted with his own two hands.
I didn’t need to apologize if the fact turned me on, right?
Before I could get lost again, or before I found myself arching enough I could hump his leg in spite of the restraints keeping me bent over, I licked my lips and continued. “I don’t want anal. Or CBT. Squeezing is fine, but nothing more than that. And no sensory deprivation.”
I liked that he’d phrased it as three things I didn’t want and not three limits because those were different things, but I still held my breath, worried I had put him off regardless.
It wasn’t something I’d apologize for, but I’d definitely cry—after I found a semblance of privacy, which couldn’t be so hard in a house this large if he undid the cuffs holding me and got me off the swing.
“That’s fine.”
I blinked fast. I’d never been particularly interested in reading a Dom’s expressions in the middle of a scene, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off him when he was right there.
He summoned all my attention in a way that bordered on dangerous.
I didn’t know if this was how others felt when they talked about 24/7 and TPE dynamics, but I suddenly saw the appeal if it was the case.
Long-term dynamics where the lines blurred had always made me wary.
Here, with him, I only wanted to lean forward and remind him of my leaking cock. I just didn’t know which one was the priority.
I wanted everything he wanted to give me.
More, if it was even possible.
“I’m going to give you mine now, and you’re going to answer with your colors. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Air left my lungs as he pulled me closer, as he pushed his tongue inside my mouth and tasted everything I had to offer.
“Good boy.”
Something strange happened: I believed him.
It made me question everything, if maybe I had been playing wrong all this time.
When others called me a good boy, it felt good.
Great, even. It sent a thrill up my spine and made me lean closer, chase whatever it was they were giving me, but there was always an undercurrent of the act it was.
Role play was the name of the game, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe otherwise.
But…
But when the man in front of me uttered those two words, it was with conviction. Or it felt that way. It left me certain of it, that I was being good for him, that he thought me good.
And that was the end of that thought process—lest I started crying for real.
“What do you want to do, Daddy?”
Pushing the words out brought me back into the present, into the physical reality of being strapped naked to a swing with a shirtless Daddy and a slightly unhinged stranger watching the whole thing.
I really was not going to last long before I spilled.
It was getting harder to remember why it would even matter.
“I want to mark you.” The words were low enough, I’d be surprised if Damian could hear.
I didn’t care whether he did or not, but my stomach cramped at the thought that Daddy did, that this was only for me to get off on.
“I don’t care that much if you cry or not, but I wanna see you squirm on the truck all day tomorrow.
And I want you to spill down my throat only. ”
If he wanted the latter, it would be smart that he stopped saying all the right things and pressing all the right buttons.
I gasped. Was this part of his edging technique? He had to realize the effect he had on people when he… Right?
“You said…” I swallowed, no idea how to get the words out or form a coherent thought. Oddly enough, the way his eyes stayed on mine helped boost me. “You said you don’t do impact with someone you don’t trust yet.”
It seemed important to bring that up, even when it made me start squirming the way I supposed he wanted me to.
“I don’t need to flog you to have you squirming.”
Of course not.
It was cliché, but I didn’t question the truth in his words. No, I just ignored the dryness in my mouth instead and swallowed through the knot building in my throat.
“Okay.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”