Page 116 of The Prodigal Son

“I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That you’d be talking to God.”

A smile tugs at my lips, but only until he slams into me again. Then my smile is wiped away and I’m on the brink of an orgasm.

“Shut up and fuck me harder,” I cry out. He quickly takes my mouth in a kiss, and I hear him groaning deep in his chest. He’s trying hard to hold on too.

We’re no longer sweetly making love. He has me practically folded in half as he pounds hard into me, and I have a pleasure-laced scream at the tip of my tongue.

“God, don’t stop. Fuck, I’m right…there,” I mumble incoherently.

“I’m right there too,” he mutters. “Tell me to come inside you.”

“Yes, please, Daddy. Fill me up,” I shout.

“You come first, baby.” He sounds like he’s on the razor-thin edge of control.

His hand around my cock squeezes the head on the upstroke as he nails that spot inside me again, and I’m a goner. The climax digs its claws in and I’m powerless against it. Warm cum lands against my chest and neck while I’m riding out the waves of ecstasy.

“I’m coming,” he groans as he slams in a couple more times before stilling. His cock pulses as he comes, and I love the idea of being filled and claimed by him.

We both collapse at the same time, and I instantly feel his heart hammering in his chest as he lies on top of me. It’s like heaven, catching our breaths together. Our hearts pounding together. Cum-covered and satisfied.

Eventually and begrudgingly, we both get up. He goes into the bathroom first and comes back with a warm, wet washcloth. I lie in bed, feeling like his filthy little sex toy as he gently cleans my chest and between my legs.

“What are you grinning at?” he asks when he sees my face.

“Nothing,” I reply with a big stretch. “I just love this.”

He pauses, gazing down at me. “Me taking care of you or the post-orgasm haze altogether?”

“All of it. But mostly just having you here.”

He goes into the bathroom and tosses the washcloth in the hamper before washing his hands. I get to stare at his sexy ass the entire time.

“You know,” I say, rolling to my side. “You could just leave some underwear here.”

“I thought you liked me wearing your underwear?” he asks as he picks up the ones he discarded on the floor before sex and pulls them back on.

“I do, but I sort of love the idea of you keeping your things at my place more.”

He stares at me with his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. “I could do that,” he says with hesitation.

“You could stay here too, you know. When I’m not here. Sleep in my bed. Swim in my pool. Jack off in my shower.”

He smirks as he climbs into the bed and lies next to me. “Isaac, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Am I moving too fast?” I ask, hearing how ridiculous this probably sounds. I’ve never even been to his place, and yet, I’m asking him to live in my house. This is probably too much, but I don’t care. I just love him so much and I want moments like this all the time. I want all the stupid domestic boyfriend shit every day.

He licks his bottom lip as he thinks it over. “I love that idea, too,” he mumbles, and I grin wildly at him.

“Really?”

“Really.” He nods.

Then we’re both grinning like idiots. He hooks an arm around my waist and tugs me toward him until I’m hugging him tight.

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