Page 33 of Wrecked for the Holidays

Papa’s words soothed me like he knew they would. I melted against him and let myself feel the water swirling around me. His chest moved up and down with his steady breathing, and I allowed my own to match his. I was in a swirly place between big and little and wanted to stay here forever. In this space, I got to experience all my big feelings for Papa but enjoyed being little while I did it. When my body listened and stopped tensing, I could enjoy the experience of being bracketed by Papa’s legs. My fingers itched to explore him. I moved my hands to his knees and ran my hands up and down the length of his calves. His muscles twitched under my fingers, and I giggled when he grew harder beneath me.

“Papa, you ’kay?” I asked in a breathy voice.

My brain gargled a mixed potion of want and need. My tongue swelled in my mouth. Forming words in a way that made sense was a struggle. My dick thickened, and I came close to begging Papa to touch me. My mind was a roiling mixture of want, desire, and desperation.

And then he did touch me, and I almost cried. It felt so good, but good wasn’t enough of a description. It felt heavenly, though more devilish than angelic. Papa’s hand slid down my chest, over my fluttering tummy, to the juncture of my legs. His long fingers traced the length of my shaft to my mushroom head and gently explored the slit before retracing his previous path. My balls ached something fierce and drew up, anticipating his touch. My whimpers were barely audible, but Papa’s deep chuckle clued me in that they weren’t silent.

“Love, do you know how many times I’ve thought about this pretty cock of yours?” Papa’s whispered question turned my body to Jell-o, all wiggly and soft, except my dick. There was nothing soft about that. “You’re such a good boy. So sweet. So kind. So fucking hot.” He punctuated his compliments by dropping kisses along my shoulders. “I’ve dreamed about this dick and what it would feel like inside me.”

“Papa!You want me inside you?”

In all the porn I’d watched—which was a lot after I moved into the hotel—the boy was almost always the one who took his Daddy’s dick. The few that had theboy being allowed to fuck his Daddy were the ones I watched over and over again. If Papa wanted to fuck me, I was down to try it, but in my fantasies, I imagined it the other way.

“Does that surprise you? My preference is for bottoming. I like the idea of laying you out on my bed and riding you.” Papa stopped to nibble my earlobe, and I thought my insides would be incinerated by the heat curling through my body. “If you don’t want to top, it’s fine.”

“No, no, Papa, you don’t understand.” I stumbled over my words because my brain was glitching. Hard. “I want to top you, but in almost all the stuff I watched, it was the other way around.” I felt Papa’s lips curve against my skin.

“Love, there are no rules except the ones we agree on.” At some point, my hands had returned to his thighs, and my fingers dug into his skin. “So long as we are both on board, and everything we do is safe, sane, and consensual, we make our own rules. The only thing I want is for you to enjoy yourself. Are you?”

Papa tried to sound innocent, but he was a faking faker who faked. His fingers had encircled my dick, and he knew exactly what he was doing. And what he was doing was not innocent at all. He waswicked.

“Y-y-yes.” I didn’t even recognize my voice. Who was this person who had taken over my body? Never in my life could I have imagined a scenario where I would boldly reach for what I wanted in a bathtub with the world’s sexiest Papa.

I lost the thread of my self-congratulation when Papa’s hands moved back up my chest and lazily pinched and tweaked my nipples. My labored breathing was close to panting but nothing helped my lungs to work properly. My head lolled back against Papa’s shoulder, giving me perfect access to nuzzle and kiss his neck. When I pulled on his earlobe with a gentle nibble, I felt his entire body shudder.I was a sex god.

And that’s when the giggles started.

“Oh, this is funny, huh?” Papa murmured in my ear. His fingers stopped stroking me and started tickling me instead. My squirming splashed water over the edge of the bath and onto the floor.

“Papa! What are you doing?” I shrieked as a swath of bubbles fell over the edge of the tub.

“Me? Nothing. What are you doing?”

I craned my neck around to peer up at him. Papa’s eyes danced with laughter and his smile was easy. He looked so happy and carefree, like he was a boy again, enjoying his favorite toy. I knew in my gut that Papa would never be the kind ofperson who was careless with his toys. He was the type to treasure and love them. That’s exactly how I felt—treasured and loved.

“I’m trying to take a bath like a good boy. But someone”—I paused to waggle my brows at him—“is distracting me. And they are making me make a mess in the bathroom. If I get in trouble with my Papa, then it’s not my fault.”

“Is your Papa the unreasonable kind?”

“No, my Papa is the bestest kind. He’s sweet and nice and buys me toys and fixes me yummy dinners, and he let me move into his house.”

As I named each reason Papa was the best, I counted off on my fingers and triumphantly showed my splayed fingers to the naughty person—a.k.a. Papa—sharing the tub with me. He grabbed my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. When he slipped my index finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around in a filthy preview of how I hoped my night would end, every nerve ending in my body went on high alert. His mouth closed around my finger, and he gently but firmly sucked on it. When he pulled it out, it made an obscene pop that went straight to my painfully hard dick.

“Let’s finish this bath,” Papa said in a husky tone.

I nodded silently and returned to my original position in front of him with my back fully to him. He grabbed the shampoo off the edge and squirted some into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his hands together for suds and then moved to scrape his fingers through my hair. His movements were deliberate and methodical. When it was time to rinse, he grabbed the handheld water spigot. He repeated the pattern with the conditioner, and I got progressively more antsy when he picked up the loofah and squirted body wash on it. I needed him to touch me in the way I wanted, and he was not accommodating. His movements were brisk and efficient.

Until it was time for my overlooked dick and balls. Then, efficiency went away, and the torture began. Papa picked up the body wash again, but he put it in his hand this time. He dipped under the water and gently soaped my shaft, his fingers encircling and jacking me, using my soap as lube. His palm passed over the tip, drawing whimpers from my lips. After a few strokes, he lowered his hand to cup my balls in his curved fingers. He carefully squeezed me until my whimpers turned to mewls.

“Sweet boy, you’re so good to me. I love all the sounds you make.” Papa’s whispered words of praise warmed me from the inside out.

“Papa, I need you. Please, don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Oh? What do you need, sweet boy?”

“I need to be inside you.”

“Soon, love.”

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