Page 24 of Island Daddy

I slide across the smooth leather upholstery, followed by Reid’s zealous mug ducking inside. The windows are tinted to a fine degree. So much in fact, that we could have hot and steamy sex back here without the glass showing a smidge of fog.Surely he isn’t inclined to fuck me right now. Not with his driver watching idly by.However, rich people have their staff sign confidentiality agreements and shit. Weirder things have happened.

A few minutes pass by on what seems like quite a lengthy commute across the main island. I told Tuti earlier this morning that I didn’t know when I’d have a chance to charge my phone, but not to be worried. And that I’m with a safe person.I’d be willing to hazard a guess that Reid Fairchild might be the safest person I could be hanging out with in Hawaii.She doesn’t need to know that it’s actually an ‘extended fuckdate-turned almost weird situationship.’ Nor did I inform her that I found an Island Daddy with a cock livelier than Mauna Loa. Also, the words‘hot candlewax’nor did‘chains and whips’surface either.

“When we get there,” Reid says, his palm caressing my inner thigh. “I expect you to remain on your best behavior,” he asserts. “These are the highly esteemed children of my parents’ good friends, so they’re basically kinda like cousins.”

My sentiments return with an earnest stare. “I promise, Daddy,” I assure him. “What trouble could I possibly get into anyway?”

He winces, raising an eyebrow in the process. “You’d be surprised at all the possibilities, Kragen.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REID

Kragen seems faster and looser tonight. Not that it’s bad, so to speak. God only knows the trouble I got myself into at his age. But I’d definitely be lying if my Daddy instincts weren’t heightened now more than the previous day. Perhaps fucking him into oblivion has unlocked his dark side. I honestly don’t know. Despite the loud music and Hunter Cole’s incessant bickering, I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on Banana Boy. Ever since he downed his fourth Adios Motherfucker cocktail, and started dancing with Hunter’s kid, Treat, around Kragen’s age.

We’re at Hunter’s big shindig, celebrating his son’s entry to Harvard Medical School. To be clear, Treat’s trust fund is wider than the Nile River. But apparently he decided last year, he wanted to bust out on his own to make a life for himself away from the family business.

“Aren’t you so proud of him?” Hunter shouts above the loud tempo of a Billie Eilish song.

I shrug. “Of who—Treat?”

“No, you big Queen,” he lays into me. “Agent Orange in Mar-a-Lago,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

To be quite honest, I don’t give two shits about his kid. I enjoy the Cole Family. He and his twin sister Heather, have been just like cousins. My folks and theirs were practically attached at the waist. His father, the founder of Lynx Airlines, ended up meeting mine at some corporate expo in New York when I was three.

So it wouldn’t surprise me if our folks swung with each other, while us kids stayed up late building pillow forts in my private quarters of our Malibu residence.Proud of Treat for marching to his own tune? Blah. Me thinks Harvard only accepted the kid because his mommy and daddy played the same card as that Desperate Housewives actress a few years back.

I scan the room to locate Kragen’s sporadic whereabouts, crinkling a red plastic cup which contained my kamikaze in the process.After today’s volunteer venture, perhaps I need to convince Hunter to choose an alternative material for his next party.

My eyes and forehead contort to the booming music. “Have you seen Kragen?” I ask Heather, who’s waiting for her next drink at Hunter’s in-home bar. “He was just over there with Treat,” I add, pointing across the room.

“No handsome,” Heather replies, incredibly drunk off her ass. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”

Oh yeah, that’s another thing about Heather. She’s had a major lady boner for me ever since junior high. Despite my public lunchroom confession, when I proclaimed my deep crush for Adam Clark. Apparently dropping the‘I’m fucking gay’bombshell did nothing to thwart her serious craving to sneak into a bathroom for a taste of my tongue.

Kragen is nowhere to be found as I search the entire lower portion of Cole Manor. All I need is to lose my temporary boy. Then I’ll really be in some deep shit with the police. Carrie and his lesbian mothers would have justifiable cause to hate me forever.

Relying on the scent of Paco Rabanne he spritzed this afternoon is of no use. Guaranteed, the combined fumes of beer and other spirits are far stronger, lacing everyone’s air supply from Kahuku to Kapolei. Since the boy is officially M-I-A, I must flex a stronger Daddy muscle by rushing up to Treat’s room on the East end of their residence about as big as mine. The music drowns halfway up the winding marble staircase, sending my panic into full throttle.

I raise a hand to the corner of my mouth, shouting loudly. “Kragen Darling,” the screech echoes between the walls.

As I’m about to approach Treat’s ample bedroom, I can hear the faint whickers of my boy’s overly intoxicated voice. Likely coming directly from Treat’s private bathroom.Ugh. I fucking knew I couldn’t trust another boy. If I don’t hurry, Kragen’s gonna have his hands down Treat’s boxers. Possibly even sucking his cock like Wade did to half the Hawaiian gay community.Kragen and I aren’t necessarily exclusive. But I never got a solid answer from him, when I admitted this afternoon that I’d love to pursue our dynamic if he’d be willing to.

Shuffling through the large bedroom affords me the ability to identify Kragen’s voice plain as day. God only knows what they’re doing in there, but I’m about to find out in basically two seconds. Beyond irritated by this point, my hand twists the bathroom doorknob with force. All the while, I holler vehemently enough where my voice box crackles.

“KRAGEN!!”

The door quickly swings open, making impact with its stopper on the wall. My eyes widen to the circumference of coconuts, in utter shock to discover my suspicions of him cheating were wrong.This is so much fucking worse than a lie.I rush toward my inebriated little darling, hunched over Treat’s bathroom counter with a rolled one-hundred-dollar bill to his right nostril.

“Fucking stop this instant, young man,” I shout, lurching forward to swipe the coiled Benjamin.

A small mirror with four lines of white powder and one barely visible track slides across the counter’s length, almost diving off the edge completely. Meanwhile, the smug giggle falling from Treat’s mouth sends a razor just beneath my skin.I’ll fucking deal with you later, ya piece of shit.My hands grasp both of Kragen’s shoulders, shaking him back to his senses. I’m uncertain if I intervened just in the nick of time, or if Hunter’s kid snorted that first bump.

Panicked, I slap my Banana Boy across the face.Definitely not out of discipline, because if anyone’s to blame here, it’s the shit-stain leaning up against the wall.“Kragen,” I mutter. “Please tell me you didn’t inhale,” I add, jostling him yet more as he lets out a laugh.

“Calm the fuck down, man,” Kragen chortles, flailing his wrist.

The boy would’ve fallen back and split his head open if he weren’t within my firm grip. I’m still left to question which of them already took the hit. I can’t rely on Kragen’s intoxicated, incredibly faulty assurance alone. A fractious grunt forms at the back of my sore throat from yelling only seconds ago.

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