Chapter 6
YVES
“Can you do that for me?” I asked, my voice rasping in my throat as the angel who loved to torment me cackled in my ear, ranting about how I’d come on too fast and too strong and blindsided the poor boy.
But then sweet Ollie silenced her, stealing my heart completely when he whispered, “Yes… Daddy. I can call you that.” Then, after a moment, his eyes so big I could drown in them, he hesitantly asked, “If it’s, if it’s really okay?”
“More than okay,” I assured him, the words rough with an emotion I thought I’d had no hope of finding inside myself again. “It is exactly what my good boy should call me.”
“Yours?” he repeated, his whole body going still, like a frightened animal.
I took a chance and cupped his chin, warmth blooming in my chest when he didn’t pull away. “It is what I’d like you to be.”
Mine. My sweet little boy.
It felt foolish to hope for, and yet, with Ollie, how could I not?
His guileless blue eyes got even bigger. “For… for how long?” he asked, then sucked in a breath and backpedaled fast. “Never mind. I mean, anything is fine. Please just forget I asked. I’m happy to just, um, whatever you want is fine.” After a moment, he peeked up at me and added, “…Daddy.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, the word slicing through my doubts. And yet, if I told him the truth about what I wanted—what I hoped for, even though it was truly too soon to know how well we’d fit no matter what my instincts were telling me—he wouldn’t believe me anyway. Not yet.
Instead, I’d need to show him… and I silently cursed myself for not recognizing what he could be to me sooner.
Back in New York. Any time or any place other than thirty-thousand feet in the air, where I’d have to exercise the kind of patience I was no longer sure I had when it came to this precious little one.
But my silence was too long. It was worrying him. He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip, chewing it mercilessly as anxiety rose like a visible wave on his expressive face.
“Non,” I said, tugging his lip free and indulging myself with one slow stroke of my finger across the soft, damp flesh. “None of that. You must be good and not hurt yourself this way.”
“Sorry… Daddy,” he said, still hesitating a bit before using the title, but then saying it in such an eager, breathy voice that it instantly had my cock swelling.
“And I will be good for you, I promise.” And then, with the shyest of smiles, he asked, “You’re really sure you want me to be yours for a while? ”
“I really am,” I said, somehow refraining from insisting it be for more than just “for a while.” I couldn’t overwhelm him, but his sincerity was the sweetest of aphrodisiacs.
It made it hard to counsel myself to have the kind of patience that history had taught me was wise.
Hard not to hope for, to believe, that Ollie was everything he seemed to be and all that I’d been looking for.
I’d been wrong before, though.
When Brent had left me, he’d said things which had hurt not so much because of their content, but because when he uttered them, they rang true…
and yet I’d been blind to them during the years we were together.
Blind to how often he simply humored me, played at being my boy, “put up with” my tendency to take charge and my desire to care for him in so many unorthodox ways…
but all without, as he’d so publicly and cruelly informed me at the end, ever actually wanting any of it for himself.
But from Ollie, who’d worn his heart on his sleeve for as long as I’d known him and whom I very much doubted had any artifice in him at all, “Daddy” came out with yearning, and wonder, and a kind of cautious hope that made me want to give him everything.
Wrap him up and protect him from the whole world.
Promise him forever and care for him always.
From Ollie, “Daddy” sounded exactly as I’d always hoped to hear it.
It sounded real… and, mon Dieu, it wasn’t only my heart that was affected.
Hearing Ollie call me Daddy also made me want nothing more than to forget where we were and lose myself in his tight little body.
Put him on his knees the way he’d teased me with when we’d first boarded.
Make full use of his eager desire to please and that promise to be good that he’d just given me, and then praise him—quite thoroughly—for how very, very well I already knew he would follow through on it if I let him.
“You are a temptation,” I said, keeping my voice low. “If we were not on an airplane—”
“But no one’s watching,” he interrupted, leaning toward me with his breath quickening.
I laughed, both charmed and aroused. “The social courtesies of flying first class.”
“Well, that and there’s a lot more space,” he said, making me laugh again. A laugh that turned into a low groan when he added, “Which makes it, um, very private?”
His eagerness was intoxicating, but he was mistaken. It was not very private.
But… it was a little bit private, the devil pointed out to me.
“A temptation,” I repeated, my eyes dropping to Ollie’s beautiful mouth. He wasn’t just eager; he was also irresistible. “May I kiss you?”
Ollie nodded so hard his hair flopped over his forehead. “Please. Yes. Daddy, you can do anything. I’m yours now, remember?”
“I will always remember,” I promised sincerely, pushing his hair back into place and cradling his face. “But be careful with promising me ‘anything,’ mon choupinou. If you allow me liberties, I will take all of them.”
“Yes, please,” he repeated in that breathless tone that did irreparable things to me.
And then, instead of letting me kiss him as I’d asked, he launched himself at me, exactly as he had once before.
But this time, instead of finding a teary-eyed, beautiful mess in my arms, his hot mouth landed on mine as if it had always belonged there, and I finally understood what it was I’d been missing all my life.
Not just the right boy, but this boy, who tasted of sunshine and filled my heart with hope.
This boy, who—by some miracle that I’d do all I could to deserve for as long as he’d let me—had just declared himself mine.