Page 9 of Wrestling with Daddy

Yeah, that was it. Ken was hot in his pictures, and Nathan had the libido of a teenager who couldn’t find a moment of privacy at home.

CHAPTER3

ken

From her perchon her cat tree, Plum stared at him with something that resembled disdain.

Ken would never understand the cat. At first, he’d thought she was showing her displeasure with him working long hours at the office, but she did the same on the days he worked from home.

There was no winning with her.

At least she’d learned her lesson about scratching him when she wanted something. Now she just meowed non-stop or jumped and walked on top of him until he was up.

It was something.

Ken shook his head as he forced himself to grab the TV remote. He couldn’t remember what he’d sat down to watch.

The worst thing about owning a cat was how easy it was to let the time fly by thinking about the high maintenance pet.

If it wasn’t for his phone buzzing with a text—not an email or a notification from one app or another—Ken would’ve spent his entire afternoon staring at the kitten.

Nathan

what’s the best thing about being a Daddy?

Ken

Is this for another article you have to pitch in to your editor?

Nathan

I’m just a naturally curious person

16 questions

Ken

We’re even now

I like having control over a person, taking care of them and watching them submit to me, follow my command

Nathan

that’s hot

how long was your longest relationship?

Ken

Four years, but that’s not a line of questioning you’re allowed to follow up on

How often are you beaten to submission?

Ken’s heart rate picked up, his hand over his chest doing nothing to slow it down. Nathan’s question had been innocent enough. Lots of kinksters inquired about past relationships as a way to read between the pages, to assess how safe or honest a person could be.

Ken had done it himself, when he hadn’t been in the mood to deal with more drama than necessary from younger boys who didn’t look completely trustworthy.

So he couldn’t blame Nathan for asking, but he could acknowledge the scars that hadn’t quite healed. They flared up the second that failure was brought up. It didn’t matter how innocuous the question that had brought it up was—or the fact that it was asked by someone who didn’t know any better.