Chapter 8
This boy was everything I've ever dreamed of.
And what I was doing with him was probably a very bad idea.
No. Not probably. Definitely.
I knew I was making a huge mistake. I knew giving in to the temptation that was Alfie would be my undoing, but I was powerless to resist him.
I was powerless to resist the sweet, needy sounds spilling from Alfie's lips as I rimmed him open with my tongue.
Fucking hell, it should have been illegal for someone that beautiful to sound like that—nearly sobbing with need, trembling under my hands, gasping my name between pleasured curses and broken laughter.
Holy shit, he was a firecracker. He was a bomb, set to go off at the smallest spark, and I was the dumbass who couldn't help but light the fuse.
I didn't stop to ask myself why I was doing this.
Why I was giving in. There wasn't room for questions anymore, not with the way my cock pulsed and ached at the taste of him, the way my hands fit perfectly around his narrow waist, the way his whole body arched to follow every flick of my tongue.
He was the perfect fit, and he was right here, and for the first time in a long time, I could actually have what I wanted.
What I wanted was this naughty boy.
This outrageous brat.
My beautiful fucking mess.
"There we go, now you're all sloppy and ready for your Daddy's cock.”
I couldn't wait any longer.
I grabbed hold of my cock, stroking it with one hand, cupping Alfie's ass with the other.
Pushing the head of my cock against his wet, waiting hole I nearly came undone as I started pressing in slowly.
Alfie let out a high, broken whine, shoving his face deeper into the pillow.
I watched in fascination as his fists clenched the sheets, and his ass pressed back, greedy and perfect and hungry for it.
At my age, fuck knows I'd been with my fair share of men.
I knew how it worked. Understood the mechanics.
But never—never—had anyone responded to me like this, with this mix of shamelessness and raw need.
"Relax," I said, voice low and rough. "Just feel me, baby. That's it. You’re such a good boy." The words felt weird leaving my mouth, but also perfect. Like I'd always been meant to say them to him.
He relaxed, just like I told him, and I slid in deeper.
His heat wrapped around me, and—fuck—I had to grit my teeth to keep from blowing right then and there, at the insane warmth and tightness.
I'd never been so close to losing it, not even in my basement years ago when my first boyfriend finally let me take him all the way.
Being inside Alfie was absolute perfection.
I started thrusting, slow and steady at first, not trusting myself not to blow my load if I really let go.
Alfie seemed to sense where my head was at, or maybe he just liked making me suffer, because every time I pulled out, he arched his back and whined, his greedy little hole sucking me back in like it couldn't bear to be empty for even a second.
"Fuuuck, Daddy," he moaned, voice muffled by the pillow. "You feel so good, so fucking big—" He broke off with a shuddering gasp as I bottomed out, all the way in. The sound made my cock jump, made me want to ruin him.
I didn't move at first. I just stayed there, cock buried to the root, savoring the perfect heat and pressure, the way his back arched to pull me deeper and the needy whimpers he let out. The air was thick with our sweat and the musky, desperate scent of sex—so sharp it hit the back of my throat and made me want to lose all control. Alfie’s little noises went straight to my head, making me dizzy with the urge to fuck him until he forgot his own name.
It was a fight between the part of me that wanted to be gentle and the part that wanted to ruin him. Ruin him for anyone else. Ruin him for all other Daddies, all other men, put my mark on him so deep he’d think of nothing but me for the rest of his natural life.
And as ridiculous as that thought might have been, I couldn’t—not with my erection deep inside him—stop myself from thinking it. Tonight I would give myself this. Tonight I would have him. I’d worry about tomorrow… tomorrow.
"Shit, Daddy, please, more… I need it so bad," he whined, and I was powerless to resist him.
I started moving again, a little faster now, a little rougher.
Each thrust punched a guttural whine from Alfie’s throat.
His hands grabbed hold of the pillowcase, bringing it up against his face so he could muffle the lewd, tantalizing sounds coming from him; his shoulders tensed like he was trying to hold himself together, but I could see him trembling.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I told him, not even caring how desperate I sounded. “You take me so fucking good, Alfie.”
He turned his head and, even half-suffocated in the pillow, managed a filthy little grin.
“That’s ‘cause we’re made for each other, Daddy,” he rasped, and something splintered in me at the words.
I hadn’t realized until then just how badly I needed to be wanted, needed someone to need me, too. To claim me back.
“Say it again,” I growled, hearing the edge in my voice. I’d never been this far gone, never lost myself like this with anyone. But Alfie was so fucking pretty, so eager and hungry for me.
“Say it,” I ordered again when he didn’t respond to my first order, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. He sobbed around a wild, desperate laugh, hands going white-knuckled on the pillow as he looked at me over his shoulder. Those eyes—fuck, those big, earnest eyes—told me everything.
“I’m yours. You’re mine. We’re… us… together…
” The words, even though at the end they didn’t make much sense, cut through everything.
Through the haze of lust, through years of loneliness, through the sick certainty that I’d never have anything worth keeping.
He said it like it was a fact, like there wasn’t even the possibility of another answer, and I believed it.
Stupid, reckless and dangerous. I believed it.
I pinned both his wrists to the mattress, wrapping my hand almost fully around them. The way he went pliant for me, the shivering surrender, it made me see red. Not with anger, but with the crazed, animal need to keep him, mark him. Make him mine in some permanent way.
But no matter how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him, in some permanent way, that wasn’t for me. That wasn’t something I could have.
So I’d focus on what I could have.
The now.
I snapped my hips, dragging out a guttural moan from Alfie’s throat.
His entire body shook under me. This time, I didn’t hold back.
I let myself go, driving into him, every muscle in my body burning with the need to consume him, claim him, destroy him only to put him back together exactly how I wanted.
He arched, back bowing so beautifully I almost forgot to breathe. I let go of his hips, grabbing his hair instead, pulling his head back so I could see his face. Sweat and tears streaked his cheeks, and he was smiling, mouth open wide and eyes glazed over with the wild delight of it all.
“Daddy, please, please, please—” he babbled, and hearing him beg for it, beg for me, did something to me I’d never admit even if you tortured me for days. My free hand slid around his hip, and I grabbed hold of his rock-hard erection, giving it a few rough tugs.
He was steel and velvet, so tight in my grip and so soft at the tip, leaking already.
As I pumped him in rhythm to my thrusts, Alfie’s whole body writhed between surrender and need.
Each time I bottomed out, I felt his hole flutter and squeeze, milking me deeper, spurring me on.
The noises coming from him were obscene, almost too much, and I never wanted to stop hearing them.
“Daddy, so close, please can I—” he gasped, his voice breaking on the plea.
I didn’t even think. “Not until I say so,” I growled, slowing only to let him feel the threat of denial before slamming back in. “You’ll come when I tell you, and not a second before.”
He whimpered, trembled from head to toe, like he was on the edge of a cliff, toes curled over the drop, waiting for a push or permission.
I could feel my own orgasm building to a fever pitch. I was about to blow and needed him to blow with me. I needed to feel him come undone around my cock.
“Come for me, baby,” I ground out, the words an order more than a plea.
He came instantly, hot and slick all over my knuckles, and the pulse of it sent aftershocks through his whole body.
After he finished, I kept moving just enough to keep him riding it out, then pulled him up until his back was against my chest and I was holding him, just holding him, while I finished inside him.
His head lolled back against my shoulder, and I pressed my mouth to his temple—not a kiss, not really, just lips against sweat and skin, the words I would never allow myself spoken in the hollow between us. I wanted to keep him.
But I never got to have nice things, and he deserved more than I could ever give.
Afterward, I half-carried him into the tiny motel shower, washed us both with trembling hands, and wrapped him up in a towel.
He looked up at me with those green eyes, all soft and sleepy and so fucking hopeful it made me ache.
By the time I had him tucked in bed, his eyes were already closed, and within minutes of wrapping my own body around his, he was giving off the most adorable, faint snores.
I’d give this to myself. Just this. This moment.
I’d need it tomorrow when I was back on the road. Alone.