Chapter Twelve
I grin as Spencer shoots his load into his palm. I already decided to spank him this evening, but playing a game makes it much more exciting. The side effect of him wanking when I can’t touch him is my raging boner. But sinking into him after his punishment will be worth the wait.
“Oh, Spencer. So close too.”
He narrows his eyes, but a smile is hiding behind his twitching lips. “You did that on purpose.”
I shrug. “I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”
I unclick my seat belt and lean over the console for another kiss. “But that was fucking hot, little one.”
“I need a tissue,”
Spencer says.
I open the glove box and bring out a pack of hand wipes. It doesn’t take me long to clean him up.
In the lift, Spencer strokes my chest and bats his eyelids. “Are you really going to spank me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Have you changed your mind?”
Has he never been spanked? He made it sound as if he likes it through experience over desire.
“Hell, no!”
He grins. “I just wondered.”
“Then you’d better get into our bedroom and undress.”
The lift door wooshes open.
He gives me a curious look, then darts into the apartment, laughing loudly. Did he notice I said our bedroom? That’s what it has become. It’s only a matter of time before I ask him to make it permanent.
The moment I step in the bedroom, my breath hitches. Never have I seen such a beautiful sight. My boy on his elbows and knees, his round arse up in the air. Since I came out, I’d fucked plenty of men, but never has anyone evoked the feelings Spencer does. It isn’t just lust, a craving to fuck him seven ways till Sunday. That’s true, but he brings out an emotion I never thought I’d feel again. One that is so wasted on such a small, innocuous four-letter word—Love. I’m falling in love with him.
I kick off my shoes and yank my T-shirt over my head. I keep my jeans on but remove my belt and pop open the button. As I draw parallel to the bed, I stroke over the curve of his arse. “Tell me you’ve done this before.”
He looks at me, his pupils blown to an inky black. “Once or twice, maybe three times. No more than a handful.”
“They can’t have been that memorable if you’re not sure.”
I smirk and run a fingertip down his crease. “I’ll make sure you never forget this one.”
I give him one solid crack on his left cheek. He yelps, a lovely sound.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my legs apart. “Over my knee, boy.”
I pat my thigh. Spencer scrambles to get into position with his back arched and his arse in the air. I brush my hand over the red handprint.
“Ready, boy. This is because you came when I’d told you not to.”
With a breathless voice, he confirms. “Yes, Daddy.”
The first smack is over the same cheek. Spencer lets out a gasp, but I don’t allow him to process the sensation and hit him until his arse cheek is bright red and warm. I move to the other side. He’s squirming, fidgeting to get away from my touch. He hasn’t lost himself in the feelings yet. But he will. With my free hand, I keep his back down and wind a leg around his, fixing him on my lap.
“Just feel, little one. Don’t fight the feelings.”
I slap him, alternating sides, but the pressure is the same. As he sinks lower, I soothe the angry skin. He found his space. It won’t be long before he’s flying. I trace a finger between his cheeks to his hole and tease the tight pucker.
“Daaaaddy,”
he whines, pushing back onto my finger.
I ramp up the smacks until he cries out, then slumps and hits his space. It’s easy to gather him up in my arms and cradle him to me. “Such a good boy, so perfect for Daddy.”
He wraps his arms around my neck and sighs. “Unforgettable, Daddy.”
I smile, kiss his hair, and stroke up and down his back until he stirs. When he lifts his head, his eyes sparkle. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
I kiss him deeply, our tongues entwined. He shifts and straddles my legs. I cup his arse, the flesh warm under my fingers, and scrape my nails over the tender skin. Spencer moans into my mouth. I want—no, I need to be inside him. “Ride me, little one.”
I groan against his lips.
Spencer slides off my thighs and retrieves the condoms and lube from the drawer while I shuck out of my jeans. My rock-hard shaft slaps against my stomach, leaving a sticky patch from the pre-cum leaking from the tip. He expertly runs the condom down my length and slicks it up with lube. I grab the bottle and pour some onto my fingers. When Spencer straddles me again, I reach behind him to stretch him open. One finger becomes three.
“Enough,”
he grunts. “I’m ready.”
After lining my cock to his hole, he sinks down. No easing onto me gingerly but taking me balls deep in one swift movement. I hold firmly on to his waist as he sets a punishing pace. It isn’t going to take him long to reach his climax and force mine out of me. I want him to go slow, to take it easy, but it isn’t my call. I put him in charge and have to let him take what he wants from me.
Only when his thighs tremble and he shakes from the effort do I take over. Spencer rests his hands on my chest as I rut hard and fast into his velvet, smooth, hot channel. “Come for me, little one.”
I fist his dick and stroke him in time with my thrusts. With a silent cry and his head thrown back, he comes. Thick ropes of cum pelt our stomachs. The squeeze of his muscles around my dick pulls me deeper inside and milk the cum from me. I empty my load into the condom, crying out his name.
As my dick softens and slides free, I roll us onto our sides and remove the condom. Spencer’s eyes are closed, and a satisfied smile plays on his lips. One I’m sure I mirror.
“Are you okay?”
I whisper. He nods and blinks at me.
“Yeah, I’m feeling kind of high.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a very good thing, Daddy. I am a bit sticky, though. Can we have a shower?”
“How about a bath?”
Spencer widens his eyes. “Together?”
“Yes, little one, together. As if I’d let you do this alone. Stay here. I’ll go and get it ready.”
I slide out of bed and pad into the bathroom. I feel his gaze on my arse, but I don’t turn around. I plug the bath and turn on the taps. My children gave me some essential oils last Christmas, which I’ve never used and stored in the cupboard between the sinks. But now they prove to be handy, and I pour a few drops of lavender oil into the water. Next, I search for the soothing gel I’ll need for his arse. I don’t want it to bruise, but the idea of him remembering my hand when he moves and sits appeals to me.
I check the temperature and switch off the water. “Do I need to carry you?”
I go back into our bedroom.
“Hmm, as nice as that thought is, I can walk.”
He shifts to the edge, swings his legs off the bed, and stands. As he stretches his arms above his head, he winces. “That’s a burn I’m going to be feeling for a few days. But I guess that’s what you want.”
“As long as it wasn’t too much, then yes, I like the idea of you feeling me when we’re not together. Come on, the bath is ready.”