Page 22 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

Bodin

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

His swallow was audible as he nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Perfect.

I reached over, cupping his right cheek in the palm of my hand. He didn’t move away—no, he nuzzled into it. I could feel the nervous energy rolling off him, and I wanted it—wanted to tip it over into something sweeter, more dangerous.

Slowly, I leaned in, enough that he could stop me, but I knew he wouldn’t. His breath caught just before my lips found his, soft and tentative at first. I felt him freeze, not from rejection but from inexperience.

That was fine. Better than fine. It meant I got to be the first.

I kept it gentle, making sure he knew what it felt like to be wanted. When I pulled back, his eyes were wide, pupils blown, lips parted like he wasn’t sure if he should breathe or speak first.

“That okay?” I asked, keeping my voice low, coaxing.

He nodded so quickly it almost made me smile. “Yeah… yeah, it’s okay.”

I let a satisfied curve pull at my mouth. “Would you like Pappa to take care of you in a new way tonight?”

That made him shiver, precisely the way I’d hoped.

“Please,” he said breathily, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Climb up onto my lap,” I instructed.

He sucked in a breath and rose to his knees, letting the blanket drop from his shoulders. Biting his lip, he swung his leg over my thighs, straddling my lap.

“Let’s get this off,” I murmured as I lifted his shirt off over his head, discarding it on the floor.

Colby trembled as I brought my hands to sit around his waist.

The heat of him was immediate. His bare skin rendered me breathless.

His ribs were faintly visible beneath pale, freckled flesh.

My thumbs brushed against the delicate curve of his waist, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming up—over the soft dip of his stomach, his dainty rosy nipples. The body hair he had was like soft downy fur, so light that he almost appeared hairless.

God, he looked so breakable. It was a wonder no one had got to him before I had.

“You’re beautiful,” I told him, and I meant it. Maybe not in the way the world would define it, but in a way that made my chest ache and my grip tighten. “So damn beautiful.”

His brow furrowed, like I’d just said something absurd. “No, I’m not…”

The words were quiet, almost ashamed. I could see him slipping back into old beliefs—what years of being overlooked and unwanted had taught him.

It made something primal in me bristle.

“Yes, you are,” I said, firmer this time, one hand sliding up his back to cradle the base of his neck. “Every inch of you. I’ve never seen someone so… so enchanting.”

Colby’s eyes shimmered, and before I could say another word, tears spilled down his cheeks. My thumb caught one, warm against my skin. He tried to look away, but I tilted his chin back toward me.

“Du er fantastisk,” I murmured. “Stunning.”

The sight of him like this—flushed from my attention, trembling on my lap, tears making his freckles stand out stark against alabaster skin—was devastating in its beauty.

Fragile, yes, but not in a way that begged for distance.

It made me want to draw him closer, keep him where no one else could touch, could harm, could take this from me.

“You cry so pretty,” I said softly, the words slipping out like a confession. “Like every drop is just for me. Will you cry more for Pappa?”

He let out a shuddery breath, and I held him there, letting him feel the weight of my gaze until he looked back at me again. And when he did, when I saw trust and want and fear all tangled in those wet eyes, I lost control.

In a fit of lust, of pure carnal need, I swayed forward, sucking one of his delectable-looking nipples into my mouth. He gasped, body jolting, as I pulled the sensitive nub with my teeth, lathing over it with my tongue.

With my left hand, I plucked his other nipple, earning another sharp gasp.

“ P-Pappa ,” he cried, his back arching.

Abandoning his now glistening peak, I sucked biting kisses across his chest, my cock growing stiffer with each little sound falling from his lips.

As I reached his collarbone, Colby wrapped his arms around my neck, his hands bunching the back of my shirt.

I continued my path up his neck, sucking a particularly bruising kiss at his pulse point. Upon reaching his lips, Colby surged forward to press our mouths together, conveying his innocent desperation through the sheer force of it.

My tongue licked across the seam of his lips, slipping into his mouth when he let out a small moan.

There was no fight for dominance, no question at all about who was in charge.

No, he yielded to me, letting me fuck my tongue into his mouth with reckless abandon.

When I pulled back, Colby gulped for air, his face already looking completely fucked-out. His lips were swollen, his eyes glossy, his cheeks red. He panted for breath, never breaking our eye contact.

“Can Pappa play a little more?” I asked, my voice rough.

Colby whined sweetly, “ Please , Pappa.”

I flipped him onto his back on the couch and tugged his pants off. His cock was hard, the head flushed dark pink and dripping.

Colby’s trembling pulled me from the intoxicating sight.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” I said. “Is this still okay?”

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as he squirmed underneath me. “Yes, Pappa. Please… please don’t stop,” he moaned.

“Are you sure, lille prinsen? I don’t want to hurt you.”

He whined pitifully, cock twitching. “No, it’s not—I don’t want to stop…”

“Then why do you look so scared?” I asked.

Colby squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I’m close… that’s why…”

“You’re close? I haven’t even touched you yet, sweetheart,” I said, surprised.

“I know, that’s why I’m nervous,” he groaned quietly. “I-I don’t want to come and—and have it be over already! It’s embarrassing…”

I tilted my head back, looking towards the ceiling.

Gods, give me strength.

I took a deep breath in, centering myself, then focused back on the mouthwatering boy beneath me.

“Kaninen min, look at me,” I coaxed, petting his tight abdomen.

His eyelids fluttered open, and he peered up at me anxiously.

“Listen to me. I fucking love that you’re already close.

Because that means I’m doing a good job and taking care of my boy properly.

It’s a compliment to me, Colby. So don’t worry about it—let it happen. Let your Pappa pamper you, hm?”

Colby nodded, cheeks a deep red. “Okay. Thank you…” A glittering tear slid down his face.

“That’s right, pretty baby. Cry those pretty tears for Pappa,” I drawled, slowly petting down his belly to his needy cock.

Colby held his breath, lips pressed together as I drew closer and closer to where he wanted me. When my hand finally wrapped around his length, his hips jerked up and he released a startled cry.

“Oh, Pappa, Pappa,” he moaned, his eyes caught on the languid movement of my hand.

“That’s it,” I cooed, feeling absolutely fucking feral for his cum. “Give it to me, prinsen. Spray your seed all over my fist.”

“Pappa, it’s coming, it’s coming—I’m g-gonna…hnngh—” His eyes rolled back in his head as his dick pulsed, squirting out rope after rope of cum.

My hand jerked him through the aftershocks, only stopping once his thighs quivered and more beautiful tears leaked from his eyes.

I brought my hand up to my mouth, licking up every drop that had landed on me. Colby watched me with a sated look.

I lowered myself, making sure not to put my full body weight on him because I was damn sure I’d actually crush him. I pressed a butterfly-soft kiss to his lips, soaking up his post-orgasm bliss.

“That’s my boy,” I murmured, my hand sliding up into his sweaty hair, combing through it slowly. “My perfect, perfect boy.”

* * *

I’d woken up feeling like I’d won something I’d been chasing for years.

Yet I’d only met Colby a couple of months ago. It was just further proof that the gods had indeed bestowed me with the perfect soulmate.

The memory of his breathless gasps and the way he’d clung to me the night before lingered in my head, slow and intoxicating.

He’d been shy, unsure, but he’d let me guide him—trusted me with that first step across the line.

And now, watching him from the couch, I could see the difference in him already.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, pajamas still rumpled from sleep, a scattering of markers around him.

His coloring book lay open, his stuffed animals beside him as if they were watching too.

The movie on the TV was just background noise—soft animation and cheerful voices—but Colby hummed to its songs now and then, swaying his head to the beat.

Every once in a while, he’d glance up at me, smile without thinking, then go back to his page, completely at ease.

My boy.

Mine.

I sipped my coffee, letting the satisfaction sink in. This was exactly how I wanted him—safe, soft, and relaxed enough to let the world shrink to the circle I made around him.

A vibration buzzed against the cushion beside me.

Colby’s phone.

I glanced at him—still coloring, oblivious—and then picked it up. The name flashing on the screen made my lip curl.

Bryan.

The little bastard who’d made his life hell. The one who’d thought he could shove Colby around and not pay for it. The one who’d screamed all the way down those stairs when I gave him a push.

Bryan:

We need to talk.

You won’t believe what happened to me.

Out of hospital now.

A burning heat curled in my chest. Oh, I knew exactly what happened to him.

I thumbed the screen dark before Colby could notice. Slid the phone face down on the couch, casual as anything. I’d read it later, decide if it was worth dealing with… or worth deleting entirely.

For now, I wasn’t about to let that name steal the look on Colby’s face. Not when he was giggling softly at something on the TV, tongue peeking out in concentration as he filled in a block of color.

He didn’t need to know. He didn’t need anything except what I gave him.

I leaned forward, eyes on him. “Looks good, sweetheart,” I praised.

He beamed, holding up the page so I could see, and I swooned.

Happy with my reaction, he turned and went back to his coloring.

Every so often, he’d reach for a different marker, uncapping it with his teeth.

His arm continuously brushed against my shin from where he sat, like he needed the contact even from down there.

Every few minutes, he’d twist around and glance up at me, wide-eyed, checking I was still watching. I always was.

His phone buzzed again.

I didn’t move right away. Just sipped my coffee, eyes locked on the top of Colby’s head.

When I picked it up, it was the same name as before. Fucking Bryan.

Bryan:

I think someone tried to kill me.

A slow smile pulled at my mouth.

He wasn’t wrong. However, I did wonder why he was going to someone he supposedly hated to talk about something so serious. Did he really think the victim of his bullying would be sympathetic towards him?

Colby let out a delighted little noise, holding up his page for me. “Look, Pappa, it’s a bunny and he has an ice cream on his head!”

I set the phone down face down again and leaned forward, brushing my knuckles over his hair. “Wow, I wonder if he’s cold?”

He giggled, ducking his head, marker squeaking over the page again.

My thoughts were already elsewhere, cold and deliberate under the warmth in my voice. Bryan was a problem that had somehow lived through the first solution. That wasn’t acceptable. He knew too much. He had Colby’s number. He could—

Colby shifted, pressing back against my leg without looking like it was instinct to stay close.

I curled my hand over his small shoulder. “You thirsty, baby?”

He shook his head, still coloring.

I wasn’t going to let Bryan near him. Not in person, not over text, not even in memory. Colby didn’t need those shadows in his world. He had me now.

And if I had to finish what I started to keep it that way…

Well. I’d already proven I was willing.

“Pappa?” Colby looked up at me with that soft, trusting face that made every dark thought go quiet for just a moment.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can we watch the other movie after this one?”

I smiled down at him. “Anything you want.”

And I meant it—as long as it was me giving it to him.

* * *

Colby had been out for maybe half an hour, curled up in bed with his stuffed animals under his chin and the blanket tucked up to his nose. I was careful getting out of bed, not wanting to wake him.

I made my way to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. The glow of Colby’s phone screen was the only light.

I scrolled up through Bryan’s past messages. Most were short and whiny, but there were a few that made my jaw tighten. The kind where you could hear the sneer through the words, even without his voice. The kind he probably used on Colby all the time.

Going back down to his recent texts, I tapped out a reply.

Colby:

Don’t text me again.

Then I deleted it before sending. Too obvious. Too direct. Way too confrontational to be from my boy.

No, it was better to keep him talking, keep letting him think Colby was still reachable. Maybe even sympathetic. Draw him close enough that I could see the whites of his eyes before I made sure he couldn’t use them again.

Colby:

Are you okay?

That was better. Much more Colby-esque.

Three little dots appeared almost immediately. He was hungry—desperate.

Good.

I glanced down the hall toward our bedroom, imagining Colby fast asleep, peaceful, trusting, with no idea what I was doing—no idea that I was making sure nothing ugly could ever touch him again.

Bryan’s reply popped up.

Bryan:

Meet me. I’ll explain everything.

I smiled to myself, dark and satisfied, as I typed back.

Colby:

When and where?