Page 90 of Coiled Tight
“You need to thank me?” I frowned. “What for?”
As far as I was concerned, I was the one who needed to thank him. It was new, but I could already feel it, my brain rewiring to adjust to not hiding from absolutely everyone and everything.
“I wanted to make you proud,” Cam said. “Still do. But, um, I would’ve never gone through the call on my own. Or lots of other things.”
This boy…
I sighed. I needed to see him, needed to cup his stupidly attractive face in my hands and make him aware of exactly how proud of him I was.
My thoughts ran at a hundred miles per hour, listing all the ways I could show him that pride.
Maybe I didn’t have to choose.
I was used to getting to work with only a few hours of sleep. Cam had a busy day tomorrow, but he started out later than I did, and he had a team.
“Meet me in my office, darlin’,” I forced my voice to sound commanding instead of just desperately filled with lust. “Do what you want to do before.”
Cam pulled back, studying my face before the meaning registered. I might be processing, but I remembered what he had said about douching. Maybe one day I’d take over thatduty for him, too, but for now, he could use it as a routine to get his head in the game.
It gave me time, too—to cool down, and sort out exactly what the plan was. What I wanted to start with.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy.” I cupped his jaw with more force than necessary and pressed my lips to his mouth.
My office was the space I kept tidiest in the house. It made it easier to clear up the desk and get to the shelf covered by a thin glass where I kept the toys I made for myself, and the ones Iwouldsell, but only to a close friend. The ones I wasn’t doing a good job of keeping in touch with. It was sheer luck that Damian still pestered me to go visit him, or that I had returning customers every year when I posted in the leather forums that I was taking commissions.
Mouth-to-mouth was the biggest promotional tool for these things, and that meant a lot of PR.
I hated PR.
I didn’t hate running my fingers through the different floggers and paddles while I pictured what would leave the best marks on Cam. All that unblemished skin deserved a few bruises and welts.
In the end, I grabbed a selection. He had mentioned something about the play he had engaged with in the past, but I wasn’t going to assume. Besides, splaying the selection of floggers, paddles, and one riding crop for good measure on the cleared desk for him to choose added an element of psychological fuckery that had my head fully in the game.
As I studied the implements and checked that nothing had peeled, that there weren’t any rough edges that hadn’t been placed on purpose, I heard the water running in the bathroom upstairs. Impatience reared up its head. I didn’t contend with it often, but it had been a long time since I had a willing body to play hard with. The fact that it wasCam’s body?
I could vibrate from excitement alone.
It was weird. When I’d first spotted him, sure, I’d thought he was attractive, but those thoughts were cut short when I noticed his struggle. His anxiety for simply existing in the same space as me and every other worker here. My focus had been on making him comfortable, on getting him to open up. Now that the dam had opened? My body seemed to be on a deadline to catch up with all the repressed feelings that had surrounded him. It was a new sort of sensation.
Not attraction.
I was more than familiar with the tendrils of lust and desire. The newness came from the almost predatory study of every inch of skin, every part of him I wanted to bite and stake my claim on.
The water stopped, footsteps following. I shouldn’t be surprised he’d be running to me. He lost a lot of his self-consciousness when it came to kink, that layer that enveloped him and made him question his place in the world.
Here, it didn’t take him more than five seconds to sneak into the office and stand proudly before me, a few stray droplets of water streaking down his bare torso and pooling around the waistband of a pair of gray sweatpants.
I grunted as I pushed off the desk. “Fuck me if you don’t look good enough to eat, darlin’.”
I was on him in two long strides, crashing our mouths together before I could say anything else. Anything that would feel more intense. More predatory when primal was not something we’d discussed.
Cam panted simply from that kiss. It spoke of how far he’d worked himself—while douching, or while imagining everything I had planned for him.
“Thank you, Daddy.” Cam licked his lip, leaning forward in that swaying, instinctual way that had me roaring to pick him up and keep him glued to my front. “Can we lose clothesnow? I didn’t want to walk around the house naked, but clothes get in the way, Daddy. Respectfully.”
I snorted. “You need to work on your manners. But yes, darlin’.”
