Page 12 of Island Daddy

Another sigh flees my erotically heightened existence. “Okay Daddy,” I oblige, squirming at each pleasure ache resulting from a much wider object being shoved into my hole. “Oooohhhhhhhh uuhhhhhhh hmmmmmmmm,” I cry, biting my bottom lip.

The toy Reid is using feels quite longer than his fingers. Possibly a dildo of some sort. It plunges deeper, causing each of my abdominal muscles to tense up instantly.

“Relax boy,” he groans feverishly. “Just relax.”

As hard as it is to relax, I definitely try my best. The delightful sensation warms over my body with each rotation of the dildo, almost feeling like a ribbed condom.

“Huhhhh,” I moan again, gritting my teeth in the process.Surely any harder and I’ll crack a fucking tooth.“I’m gonna cum, Daddy,” I whine.

“No you’re not,” he grunts, slapping his bare palm against my ass cheek. “Not until I say you can, do you understand?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“Good boy,” he praises me once more, removing the object from my ass at once. “Perhaps we’ll prolong the pleasure a bit more.”

“Holy fucking shit,” I scream, crying at the burning pain splattering from my torso down into my groin. “What the fuck is that?”

Then it occurs to me before Reid has a chance to form another sentence. It’s those fucking candles he lit minutes ago.God fucking damn it, those burn like a bullshit.

He snickers playfully, probably getting his rocks off because I’m squirming with each drop that lands on my naked body. “It’s nice, right?” He suggests, clicking his tongue.

“Huhhhh,” I grimace. “It’s something alright.”

The pain is hardly enough for me to cry‘pineapple.’If I’m being honest, this still feels rather vanilla. However, I couldn’t be entirely certain unless Reid were to break out a cattle prod or some super kinkier, painful shit. There’s no doubt about it, hot wax would pale in comparison to the agony of electricity.I hope he doesn’t use one of those. That’s at least a third fuckdate kind of device. If ever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

REID

We’re approaching five in the evening, and I’ve decided to stop playing with my temporary boy. Something gives me the impression that he’s enjoying it immensely, but perhaps there’s no need to rush a good thing. I’ve teased and edged him slow enough, that he’s only slightly jutted a pool of precum here and there. Everything in my soul yearns for him to be more than temporary. I know Wade trampled on my heart, but there’s a completely different feeling about Kragen.Shit, I don’t even know his last name and he’s almost more versed about my life than I am.

Flames engulf high up through the grate of my grill, feeling the intense heat nipping at my right arm as I flip over two slabs of beef. “Do you like a rare steak?” I ask over my shoulder, gleaming at the pretty sight poised to perfection in a patio chair. “Personally, I can’t eat anything cooked more than medium rare.”

Kragen nods. “Rare is fine,” he shrugs, sipping a cold Diet Coke.

I lower the grill lid, making a mental note to remove our ribeye steaks in another four minutes. Based on the sun beating directly down on his young, naked skin, it’s important that I slather a generous helping of sunscreen all over the boy. He sits comfortably amid a beach towel that’s cloaking the wrought iron chair, so I don’t unintentionally brand him with its intricate design like a cow.

“You’re already burning to a crisp,” I groan, reaching up to a covered shelf on my patio for a bottle of sun protection. “Living here for the last ten years, I’ve built up a sort of immunity to sun exposure,” I admit, spluttering a liberal amount of cream in my palm. “But I bet being the mountain dweller that you are, you’re not accustomed to anything hotter than seventy degrees.”

The boy shakes his head. “No, Grand Junction is a high desert of Western Colorado,” he affirms. “We’re surrounded by various mountain ranges, but we can get pretty fucking hot in the summer.”

“High desert?” I ask as I stand behind, painting sunscreen down this sightly torso to his groin, then each thigh. “So it’s like Arizona with mountains?”

His noggin bounces from one shoulder to the other. “Pretty much, without the tall cacti and shit.”

I want to know how he affords to support himself, if he’s the philanthropist he claims to be. His mothers seem hardly fortunate enough to afford his sister’s destination wedding, so he can’t come from an abundance of money.Is there something he isn’t telling me? Is he actually a famous author and just concealing his identity?I don’t read as much as I probably should. If I had enough time on my hands, I might try to do more of it.

Kragen leans forward so I can spread more cream evenly down his backside. “So how does my Banana Boy afford to meet his basic needs, if I may ask?”

He sighs, almost as if I’m prodding. It’s none of my business, but it kind of is. I’m Reid fucking Fairchild after all. Immune to the sun’s violence, yet vulnerable to be taken advantage of by basically anyone off the street.

“I’m not rich by any stretch,” he claims. “I write for a syndicate in North America, it’s really boring stuff,” he coughs, moaning as my hands sink into both sides of his neck. “That feels so nice.”

“You’re so young still, Kragen,” I mutter softly. “You have your whole life yet to earn a nice living,” I add, massaging away each shred of his tension. “Unless Banana Boy wanted to come let Daddy spoil him rotten.”

Why did I say that? God damn it, Reid. I can’t put all my trust in someone who I’ve basically known for less than twenty-four hours.But my conscience can’t keep up with my heart, and this achy longing to have a constant warm body in bed with me every single night. Someone to hold and never relent from my grasp ever again. A boy I can shape into a respectable man in society, to pass on my family’s legacy should something God forbid ever happen to me.

Kragen turns around, meeting my muggy stare. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

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