Page 9 of Baron's Boo-Boo
I’m embarrassed by how swiftly my thoughts turned filthy. Yeah, it’s been over six months since I’ve been with anyone other than my right hand, but I’ve got to get my libido back under control.
Clearing my throat, my voice is strained with need when I confess, “I’d like to see your toy collection, Bear.”
He bounces excitedly in his seat, and it makes me smile. I love the incongruity between the subject matter and his adorable, almost childlike behavior.
“I play with Sir a lot,” he says excitedly, and I blink.
Sir? I guess that goes hand-in-hand with daddy kink, right?
“You…name your toys?”
“Uh-huh. Don’t you?”
“I…” I clear my throat. “No, I never have.”
Glancing his way again finds him staring at me with a hilarious, scandalized expression. “Daddy!” he scolds playfully, lighting me up inside. Then he leans forward in his seat and says, “You’ve gotta turn right onto Third Avenue, then left onto Hamilton. It’s the second street on the right after that.”
I nod and focus as we head into the sprawl of the outer suburbs. A few minutes later, I pull up outside a red brick apartment block at the far end of his street. In the low light from the single, flickering streetlight, I can see that it needs a little TLC.
Baron turns sideways in his seat, nibbling his lower lip. Outside, the rain is starting to slow.
“Will you come upstairs, Daddy? I know I gotta have a bath, but…maybe you can stay and play afterward?”
I swear to God, if my dick could speak it would answer for me, surging to attention at the sweetly phrased question. But I just grin and nod, ignoring my cock’s insistence to leap out forplaytime. “There’s nothing I’d like more, Bear.”
Chapter Six
I’m so nervous! I’ve never had a Daddy in my apartment before. Hell, I’ve never played with a Daddy before.
Whoops, don’t tell him I said hell.
Or that I said it again.
Did I mention I’m nervous?
But, as nervous as I am, I’m excited, too. Because Vince was so kind last night, and then he rescued me tonight, and if I believed in signs from the universe, this would be a big, neon one that says “This is the Daddy for You.”
I’m so happy that he’s agreed to come upstairs that I almost forget about all my scrapes and bruises. That is, until I step into the bathroom and start to peel off my destroyed clothes. I whimper as they rub over my raw patches of skin, and immediately there’s a knock at the door.
“You okay?”
My lower lip wobbles, but I try to be brave. I want tonight’s visit with Daddy to go well. I don’t want him thinking I’m a crybaby. “I’m fine.”
There’s a pause before he asks, “Are you sure? I’m a doctor, sweetheart. I still want to look over your injuries…but only if you’re okay with that.”
My tummy flip-flops again. Daddies are supposed to look after their Boys, right?
Padding over the tiles, I open the door and swallow. “I’d like your help, Daddy.”
I hiss as he carefully helps get my shirt off, the pads of his fingers gently prodding over the spots where my skin is already starting to turn a purple-blue color. “Sorry, Bear,” he croons, “I’m making sure these are just surface wounds.”
Swallowing, I blush fiercely when his fingers find the button on my jeans. My blush deepens when I remember wetting myself in fear earlier tonight, and I hope he can’t tell. I’m a good boy, I swear. Ineverhave accidents in my big boy clothes.
“Is this still okay?” Daddy looks up from where he’s kneeling in front of me, and my penis seems to register that this could be areallyfun position.
I turn tomato red when it grows harder right under Daddy’s wrist.
How do I have enough blood to blushandget an erection?
