Page 53 of Coiled Tight

nineteen

cam

“I’m not a good actor, Daddy.” I kept the squirming to a minimum while he got my wrists in the cuffs made for them, though. It was worthy of a reward, just saying. “For the record.”

“I’m glad.” He snorted. “There’s nothing worse than a boy’s fake tears.”

I whimpered. He’d been supposed to coo and be nice and loving and soft, not just… That. (We were obviously ignoring the way my sweatpants tented because the sneer in his voice had been hot as fuck).

Then my hands were secured to the cuffs, and the metal chain rattled as I moved, but didn’t offer a lot of give, and all protests fled the building. Especially when he was moving and oh-so-casually running his hand through my now exposed torso because he’d taken my shirt off right before grabbing my arm to cuff it as if it was no big deal.

My back rose from the seat for two seconds before I could calm down.

Yeah, he was definitely the kind of Dom who was just going to wait after I stopped with all movements and othershenanigans. The patient slash stern angle really did it for some people.

Those people were not me, obviously, all evidence to the contrary aside.

“Can I take off your pants, Cam?”

My breath hitched. “Are you going to get naked too, Daddy?”

It didn’t matter that I was restrained and wouldn’t be able to touch. I wanted tosee, thank you very much. The blowjob upstairs had been kind of rushed. He was lucky I’d bothered lowering his jeans past his knees, which I mostly did because belts could be really painful if one miscalculated. Ask me how I knew.

Anyway.

The point was, I hadn’t gotten a show. Yeah, I’d caught him lifting his shirt to sweep sweat off his face, or in the middle of putting on a shirt because he’d just showered, but that wasn’t good enough. Just because I knew he was rippled with the kind of muscles that were real and not just gym-made didn’t mean I didn’t want to savor it.

I deserved some savoring, dammit. He was going to make me cry. The least he could do was keep me entertained in the meantime.

“You want me naked?”

“Duh?”

I frowned. What kind of question was that, and what kind of person had gone and told him no to make him think it was even necessary? Because I was not a violent person, but I could throw fists. Or whatever people said these days.

“You’re going to be so easy to rile up.”

Saúl had a look in his eye that I didn’t know how to decipher. It looked good. He was kind of smiling, or like he was actively trying not to smile, but that was still a good sign.

“You’re not answering my question. It’s very rude, you know.”

It wasn’t a big ask, was it? Okay, I supposed some people could hold trauma when it came to stuff, but that didn’t fit with what I knew of Daddy. I was half-convinced that he’d walked around half-naked around the house before I showed up to disrupt his privacy.

I was getting ready to blurt out more arguments, but he beat me to it and just grabbed the back of his shirt and pushed it over his head in one smooth motion.

Why was that always so hot? It didn’t matter that it was a basic thing. My gaze zeroed in on the way his muscles rippled with the movement. It would only be better if he was sweating after a long day of work.

My throat went dry.

There was no way I’d be able to keep all the fantasies at bay when we made it back to the refuge. I didn’t know if Daddy was applying awhat happens in Texas stays in Texasmentality to this—I hoped not—but I knew that I would not be able to.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was doomed.

“Daddy.”

I bit my lip. Why was it so easy to get used to this, to calling him Daddy, out loud but also in my head?