Page 17 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Matty

I didn’t want Matty to be right. “But the guys—”

“Will be open-minded and go along with it if you do. You know that. Maybe try to relax. Enjoy the experience and learn from it. The only cost is your time and effort. And hell, Daddy… If I were there, I’d give you a blowie. Then you could relax for reals.” Oh, his cute little voice came out, making me want to cuddle him, and damn it, he was right.

“Maybe I could.”

“Could what? Go along with the changes? Or…have phone sex?”

Nowthatmade me growly. “Yeah, how about the phone sex. Are you alone?”

“Alone and in bed.”

“Mm…baby. Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Beyond his breathy words, I could hear rustling and imagined that sleek body being hastily uncovered.

“Stoke yourself for me, baby-boy.”

“Yes, Daddy, yes…”

I unbuttoned my jeans, feeling entirely too constricted, and closed my eyes as I grabbed my cock. I knew all too well what Matty felt like, tasted like, and I pictured him on his knees, sucking my dick like he had nothing left to live for. “If I were there right now, I’d feed you every inch of my cock. Would you like that?”

“Gah…yes.” He grunted, but his grunts were quiet sounds, sexy and light.

Mine were heavier. I gave him a few as I jacked my dick. It was over too quickly when Matty made a high-pitched yelp. “Coming, Daddy…” That was enough to throw me over the edge right along with him.

Afterward, we hung up so we could clean up, and I promised to call him the next day.

I stretched out on the bed, relaxed for what felt like the first time all day. Why was I fighting him coming out here so hard? Why was I so afraid to claim him, make it official, and keep him?

Maybe I was too afraid that he’d never stay, and that would break my fucking heart.

Chapter six

Matty – Las Vegas

Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and I was still not on my way to Miami. Mother fucker. I fixed my hair, wishing I were with Daddy Drake so hard that it nearly crushed my heart. But I didn’t have time to be miserable. No, I had to go to work. And damn did it suck working at the club without Drake and the rest of Star Fly…oh right, they changed their name—the rest of Soul Shred—cheering me on. Well, that was a much better name. They were in good hands, and I hoped Drake would tuck away his pride and allow the changes.

In the back of the club, which acted as a dressing room for all of us, I changed into my outfit for the pole. I wasn’t waiting tables until after my performance. Diamond Lux was not a high-class joint, despite the name, but it wasn’t seedy either. It was an off-strip gay strip club. Nothing more, nothing less. Oh, well, maybe a lotless. Since a lot of the dancers stripped down all the way. Full frontal. It wasn’t for me, but the audience would see every bit of the rest of me. And upside down at that.

Once my makeup was done, and I’d dressed in a leotard and tights, along with my flowing robe, I headed toward the side stage entrance where I waited for my music to start. When Godsmack’s Voodoo started up, I strutted out to the rhythm of Sully Erna’s deep voice. The robe flowed behind me like an ethereal dream. When the drums started, I grabbed the pole and lifted my feet off the ground, up over my head. It was a great song for spinning and turning. Eventually, I let the robe fall off my shoulders and to the floor. By the chorus, my routine became more complex, and I lost myself in the moves.

My hands hit the floor at the end of the song, and I did a walkover to dismount. No, this wasn’t ballet. But it was artful and I was skilled. And better yet, it meant I could dance without blowing out my knee again or having to worry about not being tall enough. I grabbed cash off the stage, smiled, and waved to everyone. As expected.

Then I darted to the back of the house again. I was supposed to change so I could get out there, sling drinks, and mingle until the end of the show. I didn’t want to. For once, I didn’t want to do the finale. Yeah, the finale that I had to beg to get into. Why? Eh…mostly so Daddy Drake would see me on stage more. But he wasn’t here.

Andre thumped me on the head. “Hey. What’s going on with you, Mr. Pouty face?”

“What do you mean?” As if I didn’t know. I grabbed my shirt for the day, which saidBoy Toyacross the chest. Sassy and normally right up my snarky alley. Not today.

“You’re like, I don’t know, Drake finally wore off on you.” He waved his hands around my face. “Hey, where is Drake, anyway? Haven’t seen him and his boys for a while now.”

I snorted. “They’re in Miami.” There was a rumor going around about it, but if you weren’t into the music scene, you wouldn’t know. And Andre was cool, but he wasn’t a rocker.More like an electric-dance-vibe-so-I-can-shake-my-ass-and-show-off guy.

“Florida?”

“Yeah. Recording an album. They’re going to be rock stars for real.” I covered my face with my hands. It was hitting me hard.

“You do not sound like your normal self.” He’d been teasing before; now he was serious. He put his arm around me.