Page 23 of Chance's Choice
“Is this okay?” Kade asks me softly, even as I close my eyes and lose myself to the exquisite torture of finally -fucking finally- having Kaden McDonnell’s hand on my dick. It’sonlysomething I’ve been fantasizing about since I was fifteen and it’s blowing all those horny, teenaged imaginings out of the water.
Kade’s grip is firm and assured, his strokes measured and determined. He squeezes and twists his wristjust soon each upstroke, then lessens his hold on every pass back down my length. I force my eyes back open to watch him, and I’m not disappointed by the view.
He’s got his own gaze glued to my cock, to his own hand pumping me. There’s a tiny smile playing around the corners of his lips, and his eyes are dark with arousal.
“I knew your cock would be big,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to taste it. To have it inside me.”
I hear myself groan, feeling my balls tightening. “Yes, baby…” Words are difficult to form. “I want that, too.”
“God, you’re so hard for me. So hot and heavy in my hand. You feel so good just like this.”
I should have known he’d be a talker.Tingles begin skittering through my extremities, the ball of tension inside me that precedes an orgasm growing tighter and more insistent.
“K-Kade,” I stammer, trying to warn him. It spurs him on, the hint of a smile now turning into a devious little smirk. I’m leaking precum all over myself and his hand, trying not to buck up into him, needing him to have control here. “Baby, I’m close…”
His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, his motions speeding up. “I’m already a dirty boy, Daddy,” he says, then looks me in the eye, “make me dirtier. Come on me. Mark your territory.”
“Ohfuck!” I cry out as his unexpected words tear my orgasm from me. I slam my eyes shut and rest my head on Kade’s shoulder. A rush of heat and intense pleasure rockets through my veins and out of my cock. It feels like I come, and come, and come, shooting over his fist, lower abdomen, and his own cum-stained underwear. I practically sob curses through the wave of bliss, a litany of “fuck, shit, Jesus fucking Christ”s on repeat until I’m spent.
My brain is mush for the longest time after that. I don’t know how long we sit there, with me breathing heavily, my head still on Kade’s shoulder. It’s not until I register his squirming in my lap that I start coming back to myself.
“Holy hell,” I manage to croak, my mouth dry from all the panting and heavy breathing. I plant a kiss on the hollow of his throat before I pull away. “That was…” I don’t have words for it.
Kade’s back to looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, nibbling his bottom lip and averting his gaze with an innocence that is completely, utterly fabricated. “Yeah,” he agrees almost reverently. “It was.”
* * *
I chuckle at Kade’s expression when I lead him into the bathroom. This is the only room in the house that I’ve renovated, needing my creature comforts. Where the rest of my house looks like it’s stuck in the 90s, my bathroom rivals the one in his apartment. It’s large, sleek and modern, with a deep freestanding tub large enough to fit two grown men comfortably, and a double shower with rainfall showerheads and an inbuilt bench. It’s the only bathroom in my three bedroom house, but considering I’m the only one who lives here, that isn’t an issue for me. Besides, the toilet itself is altogether separate, so if I do have guests, we don’t have to do the ‘someone’s in the shower while I need to use the bathroom’ dance.
I get Kade to wait while I start the tub filling. I set out a washcloth, some body wash, and a selection of bath toys, and I squeeze a healthy amount of bubble bath liquid beneath the stream from the faucet before I turn back to face him. He’s adorably rumpled and stained and his pants are still unbuttoned. For someone who hasn’t spent a lot of time indulging his Little side, he’s sinking into his little headspace remarkably well.
“Arms up, baby,” I instruct and he complies, allowing me to tug his polo up and over his head, tossing it towards the hamper in the corner. Then I unzip his pants, hook my fingers into the waistband of both the business pants and his underwear, and slide the lot down his slim legs, dropping to my knees to help him step out of them.
When we did this last Friday, he was coming out of some semblance of subspace after his spanking, and the bath was more aftercare than it was bonding between a Daddy and his boy. This time, the atmosphere between us is electric. The sex confirmed our chemistry, but I’m still aware that a lot of what we’re going to be doing will be new in practice for Kade.
It still upsets me to think that he’d denied himself all the joyful experiences of being a Little, purely out of guilt and self-loathing. Hearing him admit that he needs help, that he’s going to talk to a therapist or a counselor, eased a ball of tension inside me that I hadn’t even realized was there.
Of course, my thoughts drift to Emmett and I bite back an irrational jolt of jealousy, knowing that Emmett and Kade have interacted at The Grove before. Emmett’s a good man, and by all accounts a fantastic counselor, but if Kade were to approach him for help…well. Would Emmett even be allowed to offer his services to someone he’s acquainted with socially? To a friend’s boyfriend? To a man he’s spanked in a kink club?
Probably not. That would have to be a conflict of interest, right?
I’m totally overthinking this. Kade never said that he’d go to The Center or Emmett’s private practice. He didn’t mention the name of any counselor or therapist, just that he’sthinkingabout seeingsomeone.
Getting my panties in a knot over the very hypothetical situation where hemightwant to go to Emmett is stupid and irrational, and I amnota controlling ass-wipe like my dad. I have no reason to feel insecure, and I certainly have no right to question who Kade talks to. I trust him.
Besides, I really should be thanking Emmett, because he took care of Kade when Kade was hurting and, if not for Emmett, Kade might never have come along to the auction that reconnected us.
So, yeah, I actually owe Emmett thanks and if Kade wants to see him professionally, I will support that. Or if he wants to just stay friends with the guy. It’s not as though Emmett’s not already hovering on the edge of our social circle anyway. He’s a good guy who has been a good friend to both of us, and I should feel ashamed at having entertained any thoughts of jealousy, no matter how mild.
Anyway, I give myself a little mental shake,there are more important things at hand.
Things like giving my boy his first bath purely for enjoyment in little space.
I should focus on that instead. On what a privilege and honor it is that Kade trusts me to be a part of this. That he’s comfortable enough with me to let down his walls and experiment with something he’s only ever let himself daydream about.
I smile to myself, hoping that he enjoys the evening I have planned for him. I want to give him everything he’s been denying himself. I want to show him how special being little can be.
Having pushed back to my feet, I test the temperature of the bath -which has barely filled- and adjust the faucet accordingly. Then I turn back to Kade and reach for his hand, squeezing it. “Traffic light?”
