Page 58 of Pose for Me
Grabbing both sides of my head, Ryell pushes into my mouth, gagging me. But I don’t care.
His hips snap forward, and I’m in fucking heaven. Ryell groans and curses, saying filthy things while he fucks my face. Spit leaks down my chin, making a mess of me.
“Take all my dick, baby boy,” he grits out. I peek up through tear drenched eyes, and our gazes lock, fire dancing in his stare. “So fucking beautiful with a mouth full of my dick. Fuuuuuuuck, such a good boy.”
A warm feeling flows through me that I’m good for my Daddy. I suck him harder, hollowing my cheeks and dragging my tongue on the underside of his shaft to get more of those compliments from him.
He growls as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. I watch as he unravels, pleasure evident in his expression. My hips hump into the air, needing some friction against my now-hard shaft. But I’m not worried about my impending release. I want Ryell to flood my mouth with his seed.
His fingers in my hair tighten as he pumps furiously, and with a roar, he unloads down my throat. His warm, salty essence fills me, and I swallow greedily.
I continue to suck on his softening cock, pulling every last drop of cum from him.
When he’s given me all he has, he drags out of my mouth, then rolls beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
I turn to him, licking my lips so I don’t waste a drop of his nut. “You okay?” I ask.
Ryell smiles, thumbing over the side of my mouth and collecting some of his cum that I missed. He pushes his thumb between my lips, and I suck on it, humming as I swallow.
He sighs as he drops his hand. “I’m okay, baby boy.” With a grunt, he sits up and stretches. “Come on, let me feed you.”
Ryell grabs me some clothes and helps me get dressed. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper when he slides the shirt over my head.
His smile makes my breath catch in my throat, like he enjoys taking care of me. “You’re welcome, boy. I got all the food you wanted from your grocery list. I’ll cook you dinner.”
We walk downstairs, and Ryell sits me at the table.
I’m surprised he brought me down here. When he got me food yesterday, he cuffed me and left me in his room. Maybe because he knows I can’t get away? Or maybe he trusts I won’t? I hope it’s the latter.
Ryell bustles about the kitchen, getting pots, utensils, and ingredients for dinner. “A one-pot meal would be better so we can sit and talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, thrilled that we can talk more.
He puts all the ingredients in the pot and turns it on medium heat, then he comes over to the table. After pulling me to my feet, he plops in the chair I just occupied, then pulls me onto his lap. I smile as I tuck myself close to him.
“Baby boy?” Ryell says, and I make a noise of acknowledgment. “What happened last night when you cried? Is it because you’re here with me?”
I lean back and shake my head while I audibly say, “No. I…I like being here. It’s probably stupid, seeing as how this all started, but I do. You pay attention to me…after…those few days.” I’m both sad and glad that Ryell doesn’t apologize or make excuses for what he did. “It’s the polar opposite of what my life was like when I was younger.”
“Tell me.” He prods gently.
I sigh and lay my head on his shoulder, not wanting to see him while I bare my soul. “I told you I was adopted?”
“Yeah. We’re both orphans.”
I look up at him. “You are?”
He nods. “I’ll tell you about it when I hear why you were so upset last night.”
Blowing out a long breath, I say, “I was given up when I was three. I have siblings, six of them last I checked, but I have no interest in finding them. I don’t want to be a part of that family, you know?” Ryell nods. “Anyway, I went from a house full of kids, where I’m sure I got all kinds of attention and had someone around constantly to…not.”
“Why did your birth parents give you up?” Ryell asks.
I shrug. “I think because they had too many mouths to feed. I never asked when I was old enough to wonder. I just know that I wasn’t wanted and ended up in foster care. I bounced around from home to home for about two years, not staying anywhere for more than a month. I learned to live out of the garbage bags I was given.
“Then I was placed with the people that kept me until I was seventeen. They adopted me when I was five. I thought, since they were going to be my parents, they would love me, and we would have the happy home that I saw on movies. But they didn’t. They were cold, distant. They used me as a prop for dinner parties, photos, and any social setting you could think of. They only showed me attention when other people were around, but I craved it. For years, I begged them to talk to me, play with me, love me. After a while, they got tired of telling me no or to go away, so they started ignoring me. I would talk and talk and talk, and they wouldn’t pay me any mind. They’d pretend I wasn’t there. It was…hard.”
Ryell’s grip tightens around me, and I appreciate the comfort.
