Chapter 8 #2
Daddy’s grin matched my own as I leaned back to watch him.
Without another minute of hesitation, he tore his T-shirt off his head and tossed it somewhere.
He made quick work of his boxer briefs that followed.
Damn, he was pretty. His dick was thick and nestled in a bed of dark curls.
His dick was a respectable six or seven inches—not so big that I couldn’t swallow him, which made him perfect.
My fully extended arms became too shaky to support me, so I dropped to my elbows. Daddy’s smug grin warmed me. My favorite kind of sex involved smiling, laughter, and fun. Right now, in this moment, in my kitchen, I felt so damn good—and it was all because of the cowboy next door.
When Daddy’s mouth dropped to my dick, it felt like a revelation.
His tongue swirled over the head, collecting the beads of precum that had gathered in the slit.
The tip of his tongue dipped inside, and a shuddery shiver moved through me.
The nerve endings along the underside of the rim zinged and zapped.
When Daddy unexpectedly sucked the head of my cock into his mouth with a firm tug, I shouted in surprise—followed by a moan that came straight from my soul.
I desperately wanted to drop to the counter and let my body simply feel, but then I wouldn’t be able to watch this sexy man worship my cock.
Worshipped. He made me feel divine. His moans of appreciation and his exploring tongue made me want to crack myself open for him.
If there was any part of me he wanted, I’d gladly give it all and ask if he wanted seconds.
Daddy slipped the full length of my rock-hard cock into his mouth. I was a small guy and…proportional…but for once, I wasn’t preoccupied with whether I measured up. His head bobbed while his tongue swirled, and I knew he didn’t give a damn how many inches I was packing.
Over and over, Daddy brought me to the edge and then pulled me back again. His hands kneaded my thighs, played with my balls, or traced the path of my taint—and it sent me into the stratosphere. I would’ve begged, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to end or if I’d survive if it continued.
A familiar pressure built at my spine and moved its way through my core until my back arched so far I thought I might split in half.
I soared higher and higher until my body exploded into a million fireworks—the shimmery kind that left gold glitter spreading across the sky.
Daddy did his best to swallow every rope of cum, but a drizzle spilled out.
He caught it with his thumb and licked it up too.
When I returned to Earth and my eyes could focus, I realized Daddy’s heaving chest was slick with sweat and his dick jutted from the juncture of his thighs.
After he made me see stars, there was no way I was going to let him suffer.
With more fortitude than I thought possible, I slid off the counter and fell to my knees in front of him.
The Saltillo floor tile was blessedly cool against my overheated skin.
“Sugar, what are you doin’?”
“My turn, Daddy. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” My hands gripped his muscled thighs and drew him to me. Daddy threaded his fingers through my hair and guided my mouth to his cock. I swallowed him down without hesitation. I wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made me feel.
I gobbled his dick like a man eating his last meal and was rewarded with the sweetest, most satisfying guttural moan that came from somewhere so deep inside him I wasn’t sure even he knew where. Daddy was as affected as I was, and damn, it was good to not be the only one off-kilter and shattered.
Daddy sagged against the counter as I made sure to swallow every drop, just like he had for me. I tasted his saltiness and wanted more. It was like a carnal salt lick, but I wasn’t sure if that made me the cow—well, the bull.
And then I got the giggles.
“Sugar, what the hell is going on down there?” Daddy’s tone was fake stern, and that made me giggle more.
I made the mistake of glancing up at him, which let me spot a trickle of sweat trailing down his thigh, so I licked that too.
And that made me laugh harder. Daddy’s chuckle drifted down to me as he played with my shaggy hair.
Best damn breakfast in the world.
“How about we do breakfast, take two?”
“No more distractions this morning?” I asked Daddy with a grin as he followed me down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Unfortunately, no. After I leave here, I need to go confirm tags on a herd of Watusis.” His words were a little muffled as he dried his hair from the shower, but the gist was clear. He was heading back to work, and I should probably do the same.
And he wasn’t wrong. This was exactly the kind of distraction that had always gotten me in trouble before.
I’d meet a guy, think he was amazing, we’d have sex, and then nothing else mattered except making him happy—turning myself inside out to be exactly what he wanted in the moment.
Daddy had the right idea: have incredible sex, then go back to real life.
Which was slightly less incredible, but not terrible.
“Do you want me to help with breakfast?” Daddy asked.
His voice was easier to understand now, but his body was no less distracting.
He looped the towel over the back of his neck, and the only thing covering him was a towel around his waist. His skin was two-toned—lighter where it was usually covered, sun-browned everywhere else—and it made my mouth water.
I was so very down for round two, but I was determined to be the mature, productive adult I claimed to be.
No more attempts to get him back into my bed this morning.
The trickle of water down his chest was a test of my stamina. I was close to giving up.
“No, I’m good. Before we got distracted, I was mostly done anyway. Oh—shoot, I didn’t even ask—do you like omelets?”
“Sugar, I like any food I don’t have to cook.”
“For the record, your naan barbecue chicken pizzas were yummy.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, especially since I hardly ever bother.”
“And you’d like to keep it that way?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
Daddy’s wink made my heart stutter. “Busted.”
“I’m usually happy to volunteer,” I answered over my shoulder while I worked on the omelets.
“Did you ever think about going to cooking school?”
“Nope. It’s like with people who love to read, and everyone says, ‘Why don’t you write a book?’ Because I don’t want to write a book. I just want to do the part I like.”
I knew I was rambling, but what else was I supposed to do when he was distracting me with that bare chest? I was only human. Restraint was not my strong suit.
Daddy settled himself at the counter after wiping it down with a cleaner. I slid a cup of coffee to him, but he waved off my offer of creamer or sugar and nursed his mug while I turned back to the stove.
“Are we gonna talk about yesterday, Jasper?”
“Ideally, no.” I sighed. “I was having a moment. It’s not a big deal.”
“Did something happen?”
“Let me just say, off the bat, that my dad loves me very much. I know it, he knows it, my brothers know it. But he also thinks I’m kind of a screwup, and he’s worried this might just be one more in a line of screwups.”
“Well, okay. But does he know how to make a balloon dog?”
“Well, no, because he doesn’t need to make balloon dogs to make a living. He’s a doctor.”
Daddy tapped his chin, pretending to think while I finished the omelet. Finally, he pronounced, “I think it would be helpful as a side gig.”
“You know, next time I talk to him, I’m absolutely bringing that up.”
“That’ll shut him down.”
I appreciated Daddy’s optimism, but I had my doubts. Still, one of these days, I’d master those damn balloon dogs.