Page 14 of Island Daddy

Kragen grimaces. “Daddy,” he corrects himself. “Sorry, I’ll remember next time.”

“That’s better, my Banana Boy,” I reply, narrowing my sight to look straight into his pure soul. “Daddy appreciates a well behaved boy.”

He smirks, tilting his head. “If you insist on calling me‘Banana Boy,’then I get to call you‘Island Daddy’or some shit.”

Or some shit?Based on the numerous times he’s said that all day, I gather it’s something he says frequently. So I shouldn’t be offended by the comparison to a pile of excrement. In all honesty, it’s just one more endearing thing among many which I find attractive about Kragen Darling.But I like this exchange of pet names already.For a fuckboy, he’s certainly keen on establishing an extra layer of rapport. Any other Grindr hookup rarely goes beyond a first name.

“Since that’s my name on Grindr, I could get used to hearing it all the time,” I admit, smoothing my thumb over his beautiful birthmark. “Doesn’t it have a nice ring to it?”

Kragen coughs. “I could get used to someone who doesn’t flinch every time they see my forehead.”

“Deal,” I affirm, vowing that if we continue beyond a seventy-hour situationship, I’ll let him call me whatever the fuck he wants if I worship his beauty. “You can call me whatever variation of‘Daddy’that you desire if I get to adore God’s masterpiece.”

The boys fingers travel up my left arm, stopping at the crook of my neck. “I really lik—” he starts to say something to the effect of liking me, but stops to break our stare.

“No no,” I say, shaking my head. “I expect you to be honest, Kragen,” I add, pinching his chin to look him square in the eye. “If you wanna earn Daddy’s cock, I expect a deep level of trust between the two of us.”

He swallows hard, gravely staring back. “Okay Daddy,” he nods. “I was gonna say that I really like you.”

I remove the shirt from its hanger, then slip Kragen’s arms into each short sleeve. My twitchy cock couldn’t be any more excited as I admire his beautiful body through the mirror. It thuds hungrily with each button I fasten from around his torso.

“I think I wanna leave these top few buttons undone, just to drive all the gay men nuts tonight,” I admit with a snarl, quickly retrieving a pair of Wade’s old shorts in the color I already determined.

“My Island Daddy is notorious for getting his way,” he replies, stepping one leg into the shorts at a time. “The whole world knows this.”

Fucking ouch.He’s not wrong though, so I can’t possibly come back with a rebuttal to the God’s honest truth. He and I have had two very different upbringings. Most would call it a case of silver spoon syndrome, whereas he’s probably needed to earn everything he’s ever had. If there is some chance that he becomes my boy, I’ll see to spoiling him right up until one of us dies.Hopefully not for decades upon decades.

I click my tongue. “Banana Boy has Island Daddy’s number, doesn’t he?” I reply, shooting a mischievous wink. “So,” I add, trotting across the dressing room where I have various scarves and ascots. “Come here.”

Kragen joins me, smirking the whole time I tie a thin yellow ascot into a loose knot. “Don’t you think this is a bit—umm—gay—” He stammers, scratching the back of his scalp.

My eyes blink forthrightly. “And your point?” I reply with another raised brow. “You deserve to look like a trillion bucks, little boy.”

We spend the rest of another half hour deciding whether he wants to wear his flip flops or one of the incredibly few pairs of Wade’s shoes. My Banana Boy says he isn’t too keen on dancing, but that if I pump him full of enough cocktails, he’d probably own the dance floor. With his safety at the forefront of my mind, naturally I recommend a pair of shoes which will remain secure on both of his pretty feet.In fact, I haven’t seen any sexier feet in my life.

Downstairs, Kragen helps me clear the patio table of our dirty dishes. Kaimana will wash them when she returns at some point tomorrow.Or Monday. Who the fuck cares? I wouldn’t bat an eye if she waited until Tuesday.The possibility of Kragen remaining my companion until early Wednesday morning has a certain pull. Perhaps I’ll text her to ask if she’d be willing to stay with her daughter until then. We can fend for ourselves. Or rather, I can fend for the both of us that is.

The boy collects his wallet and phone, before following me out my back entrance. Technically, The Twisted Nip is in Waihee-Waiehu, and I’ll be driving the boy there in my Maserati Levante. But there’s one sight I want him to witness, if he hasn’t yet since his trip started earlier in the week. Or at least his first time viewing it with me. Golden Hour is merely moments away as I lead him down to my private stretch of beach.

“You’re absolutely gonna die seeing this,” I gush, his hand tightly intertwined with mine. “This might be one of the daily reminders I get, which make me feel grateful that I live in paradise.”

Kragen mutters softly as we approach the shore. “You mean Golden Hour?” He says. “I saw it Thursday night,” he admits, nudging closer to me. “But seeing it with my Island Daddy makes this a unique experience entirely.”

Literally a few seconds after his response, the sun’s farewell hits at precisely the right angle. My private waters evolve to a translucent hue of blue and green, opening the chasm to a visible ocean floor. Meanwhile, an orange-pink sky swallows my moment with Kragen Darling. I lean forward, licking the ridges of his perfect smile as he caresses my ass. If taming my excited cock has been challenging all goddamn day, asking it to behave for just another few hours seems impossible.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KRAGEN

Of all the fucking guys in Hawaii that I could’ve met on Grindr, it had to be Reid ‘Eddie’ Fairchild. Despite his level of enchantment, I’m having a difficult time balancing the definitions of morality. Obviously, snooping into somebody’s private business isn’t incredibly honest. It’s hardly moral, but I have to eat. Or at least help Tuti and Candace with the monthly grocery bill as much as possible. Yet, asking my heart to fall for a man rich enough to spoil me with expensive meals every night for a hundred years, isn’t easy either.This is so misrepresented by Hollywood.

Golden Hour with my‘Island Daddy’has been the most stimulating experience I’ve had thus far in Hawaii. Okay, maybe it should be letting him restrain me by chains, while he ass fucks me with a dildo girthier than a Cypress tree. Or perhaps the level of thrill I felt when Reid poured hot candlewax all over my naked body, allowing it to cool gently within seconds after screaming in pure terror. Either way, my first vacation in paradise pales in comparison to any I’ve taken elsewhere.

“I’m telling you,” I blurt throughout the front seat of Reid’s luxury car.Only one of three that is.“If I’m expected to shake my groove thang, you’re gonna be paying quite a liquor tab at the end of the night.”

Reid pulls his attention from the road for a brief moment, smirking with his usual devilish charm. “I don’t ever have to pay for my drinks at this particular place,” he boasts, somehow assuaging my preconception which despises entitled fuckers like him. “But I’d drop a hundred grand on the most expensive drinks just to have one dance with Banana Boy.”

Of course he doesn’t have to pay for his beverages. However, that last remark is a pillow to my heavy heart, tarnished by the Sophie’s choice I’ve been battling all day. He’s whisking me across the island of Maui to a hot nightclub, apparently owned by a close personal friend. Which might explain his pardoned credit card. My sights set out ahead of the car, captivated by an early preview of twilight on this particular island. Honestly, it looks the same on Oahu.

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