Page 52 of Coiled Tight

He had soft lips. It was… No, it wasn’t a cliché thing to say. Most of the men I’d fucked didn’t actually have soft lips. I didn’t know if it was a country thing, but everyone was too rough, too hardened by the weather and the manual labor and days of not being arsed to shave properly.

Cam worked as hard as everyone, but he still kept that softness, a sort of vibrance, to him. One could very easily get addicted to it.

I feared I already was, and he would not be making it any easier if he found out.

“Will you strap me to the swing, Daddy?”

“Yes.”

Fuck bidding my time and making him sweat for an answer when it was the thing I’d kept picturing—the thing that had made me rush to him instead of giving him the time to actually acclimate and decide what he wanted to do.

Cam spurted out a startled laugh. “Are you always this easy, Daddy?”

Damian made a sound behind me. I ignored it. I couldn’t tell if Cam had even registered the snort. It didn’t matter.

“Only when my boy wants to be cuffed to one of my designs.”

He whipped his face back to the same pieces of leather he’d been admiring before. “You did this?”

“Just the cuffs and the rests, but… Yeah.”

One thing about me was that I always forgot how self-conscious I got over others recognizing my work until it was way too late.

Cam was facing me again, his hands now twined around my neck with all the confidence he’d been missing earlier. It was a good look on him. One that would send any Dom to his knees without even trying.

“Get me on it, Daddy?”

“You’re taking this on stride, huh?”

Too well on stride, I would’ve added. I was learning to read him, though, testing the lines of praise and humiliation and everything else that would keep him teetering on the edge without bringing forth any of the demons that overwhelmed him at any other time. He’d already been on the wrong side of that edge earlier.

“Yes?” Cam tilted his head to the side. “If you want me to act like a poor, innocent boy who doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, it’s not happening. Hard limit.”

“Good.” I meant it. “I’m not into that.”

“Good,” he parroted, the quirk in his eyebrow telling me one of his rants was coming. “Because lots of Daddies online seem into it and it puts me off big time, and I guess it’s a big part why I haven’t really pursued them IRL, and I guess I’m not supposed to kink shame and it’s bad of me, and you can punish me for it, but I’m not changing my mind.”

“Shh.” I lifted his legs and walked us forward so that I could get him situated on the swing. “I’m not going to punish you or force you to change your mind.”

The world was a complicated place. Maybe one day we could have a deeper conversation around it, but right now was not the time. Besides, I could deal with one person going on in a tangent, but I could not deal with more than one, and it was a shock that Mr I Join Every Rant Whether Or Not I Know Anything About It hadn’t offered his two cents yet. I’d rather not give him more openings.

“But you’re going to force me to come. Yes?”

Cam looking up at me while getting comfortable on the leather was a sight.

Fuck. Why was this affecting me like this? He wasn’t the first boy I set on a swing, or the first boy I tested my creations on.

He…

Never mind.

“If you behave.”

The three magic words had him sitting back—trying to—right away, a scowl forming. “What does behaving mean?”

I exchanged a quick glance with Damian. He hadn’t moved, but that meant he hadn’t taken his eyes off us, either, and I knew he was following every word and every twitch of a muscle.

“It means you give us a show.”