Page 57 of Coiled Tight

Long-term dynamics where the lines blurred had always made me wary.

Here, with him, I only wanted to lean forward and remind him of my leaking cock. I just didn’t know which one was the priority.

I wanted everything he wanted to give me.

More, if it was even possible.

“I’m going to give you mine now, and you’re going to answer with your colors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Air left my lungs as he pulled me closer, as he pushed his tongue inside my mouth and tasted everything I had to offer.

“Good boy.”

Something strange happened: I believed him. It made me question everything, if maybe I had been playing wrong all this time. When others called me a good boy, it felt good. Great, even. It sent a thrill up my spine and made me leancloser, chase whatever it was they were giving me, but there was always an undercurrent of the act it was. Role play was the name of the game, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe otherwise.

But…

But when the man in front of me uttered those two words, it was with conviction. Or it felt that way. It left me certain of it, that I was being good for him, that he thought me good.

And that was the end of that thought process—lest I started crying for real.

“What do you want to do, Daddy?”

Pushing the words out brought me back into the present, into the physical reality of being strapped naked to a swing with a shirtless Daddy and a slightly unhinged stranger watching the whole thing.

I really was not going to last long before I spilled.

It was getting harder to remember why it would even matter.

“I want to mark you.” The words were low enough, I’d be surprised if Damian could hear. I didn’t care whether he did or not, but my stomach cramped at the thought that Daddy did, that this was only for me to get off on. “I don’t care that much if you cry or not, but I wanna see you squirm on the truck all day tomorrow. And I want you to spill down my throat only.”

If he wanted the latter, it would be smart that he stopped saying all the right things and pressing all the right buttons.

I gasped. Was this part of his edging technique? He had to realize the effect he had on people when he… Right?

“You said…” I swallowed, no idea how to get the words out or form a coherent thought. Oddly enough, the way his eyes stayed on mine helped boost me. “You said you don’t do impact with someone you don’t trust yet.”

It seemed important to bring that up, even when it made me start squirming the way I supposed he wanted me to.

“I don’t need to flog you to have you squirming.”

Of course not.

It was cliché, but I didn’t question the truth in his words. No, I just ignored the dryness in my mouth instead and swallowed through the knot building in my throat.

“Okay.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

twenty

saúl

It shouldn’t be this easy. Or feel so right.