Beautiful boy (34 page)

When I bottomed out, I paused, lifting up to look at him again. His green eyes seemed a little wet, and I cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb under one eye. “Wrap your legs around me, baby,” I whispered. I wanted as much touch, to get as close as I could.

He shifted and complied, eyes never leaving mine. “I love you,” he murmured.

I swallowed, my heart swelling. “I love you too.” I kissed him again, then settled better into him. “No one’s ever felt as good as you, Kyle.”

His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Same here,” he said, shaking his head. “No one.”

I smiled, brushing my lips over his again. Despite the emotion, my body was too worked up to delay any more. I started moving. I managed to keep it fairly slow to begin with, focusing on long, full thrusts. I pulled almost all the way out with excruciatingly slow movements, pausing with the head of my cock stretching his muscles, then pushing all the way back in, hard and fast.

“Oh God,” he groaned, but his eyes stayed open and fixed to mine.

I did it again, wanting to hear that more.

He obliged, whimpering with every full thrust. His hands tightened on my arms, and his feet moved restlessly on my back.

I shifted, looking for the right angle with the next thrusts, and a few later, found what I was hoping for. Kyle moaned loudly and I worked to keep that going. His hands squeezed, fingers digging into my muscles, but I couldn’t care. The expression on his face was priceless: pure need, just
gone
with pleasure.

I kept it up, moving faster, thrusting harder, doing my damnedest to peg his prostate on each inward thrust, then dragging my cock across it as I pulled out. I must have been at least partially successful, based on his cries. I was glad. I wanted him mindless with need and arousal, desperate to come before I let him go.

I bent my head, kissing at his neck, then shoulder below the collar. It wasn’t as easy to maintain my angle this way, but I needed to taste him. I bit down on the skin, sucking hard, the primal urge to mark my territory hitting me. I went with it because Kyle
was
mine, would be for a really long time, whether he knew it or not yet. I suspected he did, was sure he wanted to. And I was going to do everything I could to show him I did too.

He cried out at the bite, legs squeezing me, and I thrust hard in reaction, earning a full shout. As I sped up a little, his cries turned to whines and I could hear the need building in him. I sat back and up, shifting his legs over my arms, spreading him wider so I could get deeper. He scrambled for the headboard, bracing himself, toes curling.

“That’s it, beautiful boy,” I murmured, watching his face closely. I glanced down to see his cock as dark as ever, precum pooling on his stomach. His balls had drawn up so tight I could barely see them. “Oh so close, aren’t you?”

He whimpered, giving an aborted nod. “P-P-Pl….” That was all I managed to get out of him, driving my own arousal almost to the peak.
I’d
done that for him.
I’d
made him incoherent.

“Oh yeah, boy,” I grunted out. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this.” And he was, with his flushed cheeks, eyes glazed with tears of frustration and need, pupils blown with arousal. “I’m gonna fill you, boy. Gonna come deep inside you, baby.”

The whimpers became a long, full whine. I leaned down, catching his lips in an awkward, sloppy kiss. I kept moving, not willing to stop. My own balls were tight, and it was taking all I had to keep my own orgasm at bay.

I needed to see his first. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, mimicking what I was doing with my cock and his ass, dragging more desperate moans from his throat. When I broke the kiss and pulled back, those frustrated tears spilled over.

I sat up once more and wrapped my hand around his cock.

“Ahhhh!” he shouted before I even got a single stroke in. His dick jumped in my hand and he started shaking.

“Yes, baby, almost,” I managed, then moved my hand, trying to match the rhythm of my hips.

It wasn’t quite working, but he didn’t seem to care. He thrashed on the pillow, his ass clamping down around my cock. I ran my thumb over his balls, then cupped them, squeezing gently. His cries got more desperate, and I knew he was as gone as he could be.

“Ma—Master, please!” he begged and it undid me.

His face was turned and almost buried in a pillow. “Beautiful boy,” I said, needing to see him. When he didn’t move, I added, “Kyle!” He looked up at me, and the expression blew me away. The need, the desperation to hold back his orgasm would have been obvious to a blind man. “Come, baby, let go and come!”

He screamed. There was no other word for it. The muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled on the headboard, and cum shot from his dick in huge, thick streams. His ass squeezed me, and it took everything I had to be able to hold back and enjoy his orgasm. I kept thrusting and stroking, determined to stretch it out and give him as much pleasure as I could. He shook hard, cock still spurting as he covered everything in his spunk.

The smell of his cum hit me, on top of the rest: the sounds he was still making, the way his ass still squeezed me. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I let go of his dick and pounded into him as my own climax crashed into me hard. I shouted his name—more than once, I was sure—as I unloaded my full balls into him. The pleasure was huge, screaming through me with a rare ferocity, stealing my sight and hearing briefly so the only thing I knew was the feel of Kyle.

I nearly collapsed onto him when it was over. His arms and legs came around me and held me close. I let myself settle on him, face buried in his neck as we both chased oxygen.

There was no doubt now, not that there’d been much before, but any that was left was now gone. This man, this beautiful, young, amazing man, my boy, was my life. I wanted, needed him with me. I didn’t know how I’d do it yet, but I’d find a way.

Because there was no way I was doing without this, without his love, his touch in my life full time for much longer.

Kyle

THERE’S NO
reason to be nervous, Kyle. Get the fuck over it already!

Somehow my inner pep talk didn’t seem to do much for me. I didn’t know why I was nervous. This dinner wasn’t any different than any other. I’d been to countless ones over the years.

For the most part, in fact, they were
boring
. I’d do a lot of fake smiling, make a ton of small talk that I could do in my sleep, eat the ridiculously expensive food my parents served, and in general do what I could to simply get through it. I’d pretend to be the happy, devoted but playboy son, then escape when I thought I’d put in enough of an appearance.

I’d done it for the last five years, once I’d graduated high school. Back then, when my friend Megan had posed as my girlfriend, it’d kept me from having to answer
those
questions. But other than that, there hadn’t been much different even back then. Well, that and the fact that I hadn’t been allowed to drink the champagne.

I still couldn’t, if I didn’t want to end up having to sleep in one of my parents’ many guest rooms. I could have a glass or two, but that was it. Because I would
not
stay any longer than I had to.

Why do I want these people again? Oh yeah, to keep a roof over my head.
I sighed and paused in the driveway to check my reflection in the mirror, straightening my bow tie. I’d gotten ready at Mal’s and had felt
really
good at the look he gave me when I came out in the tux. He’d stared, mouth hanging open, and I could have sworn I saw honest to God drool on his chin.

Sure my tie was straight and my collar was safely hidden—I refused to leave it off, which I think Mal appreciated—I drove the rest of the way down the driveway and stopped in front of my parents’ house. I grabbed the two small packages from the car seat and got out, handing the key to the valet they’d hired for the evening. He gave my car a dubious look—undoubtedly the only hybrid he’d park tonight—then blinked at me.

I smiled. “Hi. I’m Mr. and Mrs. Bingham’s son.”

He blinked again, then nodded, almost bowing to me. I suppressed an eye roll. “I will take good care of it,” he promised in a thick Spanglish accent.

“Thanks.” As soon as he went around the car, I touched my neck where my collar was, reminding myself it was there. Then I took another breath and stepped up onto wide stairs that led up to the front door.

The music was already flowing from the ballroom when I stepped into the house.
House
was a loose term. The “house” had some thirteen thousand square feet of living space, with seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms, a kitchen that would make most hotels jealous, a receiving room, a music room, a full-sized, two-level library, a lap pool indoors, a huge swimming pool outside, and way more. It was altogether ridiculous in size for a family like mine.

Of course, our family hadn’t always been so small. Further back in my family’s history, there’d been a number of generations with four or more children. Still more than a family like that needed, but they’d had
money
, so they’d spent it.

It was only by virtue of the fact that the house was owned outright with a trust for the taxes alone that we’d even been able to keep it. But it went a long way toward helping my parents maintain the illusion of filthy rich they so desperately clung to.

I certainly hadn’t minded the size when I was younger. I’d had a huge room, we’d had a “media” room back then so I could watch the enormous TV and play video games, and I’d been able to keep to myself for the most part. On top of that, there’d been plenty of other places to get lost and hide from my parents, always delaying the discussions of how much I wasn’t living up to their expectations.

I shook the thoughts off and peered into the music room. A number of my parents’ friends filled the couches, but neither of my parents themselves were there. Crossing to the receiving room didn’t help me, either. I moved through the two-story grand foyer, not even glancing at the majestic curving staircase, past still more of their friends, and approached the ballroom. Finally, I found my mother in the corner, opposite the string quartet. She wore long blue satin, her perfectly coifed, dyed-brown hair up in some complicated twist, and just enough makeup to make sure no one could accurately guess her age.

It always killed me that they’d have something like this on Christmas day itself. The added servants, the musicians, even the valet should’ve been home with their families, not catering to my parents and their ridiculous friends. Hell, even Anna should’ve been off today, but if I knew her—and after twenty-three years, I hope I did—she wouldn’t even have taken a break for more than a few moments.

I snatched a glass of champagne off a passing tray to fortify myself. While I drank, I looked around the ballroom. They’d outdone themselves on the tree. It looked like it reached all the way to the open second story cathedral ceiling. I shuddered as I imagined what poor Anna went through to decorate the thing. Maybe they’d actually paid someone else to help.

Just as I thought of her, Anna stepped out of the butler’s pantry with a huge smile on her face. “Master Kyle!” she said in a similar accent to the valet, opening her arms. Since I’d learned my submissive side, I’d always felt weird hearing that, but I’d never figured out how to tell her without trying to explain why.

I stepped into the hug, wrapping my arms around her. Anna barely came to my chest. Short and plump, she’d been everything I wanted my own mother to be. She always had a smile for me at the end of the school day, often pretended she didn’t see me stealing cookies from the counter, and harassed me—albeit lovingly—to pick my clothes up off the floor.

I hugged her back, then let go, smiling. “It’s good to see you, Miss Anna.”

“Oh, stop, you’re a grown man now!”

I didn’t argue. We’d had this conversation more times than I could count. “How are you?” I asked instead.

She beamed at me. “I’m doing well. My arthritis is much better these days. How are you?”

I blushed, which was ridiculous. I
was
doing well, but I couldn’t exactly explain why. I went with half of it. “I’m doing well. Work is great, and I’ve made some new friends.”
Well,
a
new friend. Could Mal be considered a friend?
I mentally shook my head at myself.

If possible, her smile widened even more. “Oh, how wonderful! You never had any when you were a child. I always worried for you so.” She reached out and pinched my cheek.

Okay, so that
wasn’t
something I’d wanted my own mother to do.

“I’m glad to hear it. Before you get busy….” She pulled an envelope out of her apron pocket. “Mrs. Bingham left this for you.”

I raised my eyebrows, but took it and tucked it into my pocket to look at later. I held out the two small packages I had. “Could you set these aside for later for me?”

“Of course, Master Kyle,” she said as she took them.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a third, smaller gift and held it out to her. “This one is for you.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She gave me a scolding look, but there was a twinkle in her dark eyes.

I smiled. “Well, open it!”

She shook her head at me and tore off the paper. She shot me a look when she saw the velvet jewelry box, but opened it. Her eyes widened. “Master Kyle! You
really
shouldn’t have!” She ran her finger over the teardrop-shaped emerald earrings. Green was her favorite color, which I knew well. I’d always wanted to do something like this for her, but I’d somehow never gotten around to it. I had a feeling I wouldn’t make it another year without telling my parents about myself, so I wanted to make sure she got it before I lost contact.

“Well, I did. You’ll just have to take them.”

She shook her head at me. “Am I supposed to wear them while I do laundry?”

I laughed. “Tell me you can’t get Mr. Pablo to take you out to dinner?”