Page 3 of Aries

“You haven’t had a mouthful yet. Just wait.”

In the back room, his office, the black and white color palette travelled through with the stripes on the wall. Pressed against one side of the wall, a red contrasting leather sofa and across from it, his black wood desk.

“Address me as Daddy,” he said. “And I’ll take care of all your needs.” He stroked my face. “But before I make all your sweet little fantasies come true, I’m in charge. Got it?”

He was just what I’d wanted, like Christmas came early, nine months early. I nodded. “Got it.”

“Good boy,” he said, extending his tongue, he licked from my chin across my mouth. “Knees.”

This ticked all of my boxes. A strong, rigid, handsome stranger who just so fit into every single one of my ideas of the perfect screw. I was a Leo, a free-spirited fire sign, and hewas exactly what I was looking for.

On my knees, my fingers couldn’t work fast enough to unzip his pants and find out the prize the universe was going to reward me with this evening. I grabbed his underwear from the band and freed his thick, cut bulbous-headed beast from its confided space. There were faded blue-ink tattoos on his cock, but my blood had rushed out of my head to my cock, and I couldn’t focus on what it said.

I looked up at him, my dry lips smacking together.

He placed a hand around my neck, tensing the muscles in his fingers trying to figure out whether I liked it. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, pushing his trousers and underwear down his ankles. “You want it, or not?”

“I was waiting for you to go harder,” I said, licking my lips. He wasn’t exactly the type of guy I’d gone for in the past, probably because of all the tattoos, but I couldn’t pinpoint my type either. Any man who gave me bedroom eyes and could get hard was my type, but I didn’t want to pigeonhole myself as being easy.

Daddy’s eyes grew intense and his hand around my throat tensed. I opened my mouth wide, and he pushed the tip of his cock against my tongue, slowly inserting more of its thickness in my mouth and down my throat. The glug of his cock hammering into the back of my throat lubricated my mouth with saliva and precum.

“You wanna be used, don’t ya?” he asked, letting go of my throat.

He’d made the skin tender. I reached my neck and stroked the skin. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Daddy smirked. “So, you’re a brat as well,” he said, grabbing his cock by the base. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you have that look in your eye.” He smacked my cheek with his cock, it wasn’t hard. My tongue out, trying to reach the spot.

“Brat,” I mumbled, stuffing a hand into my pants and showing my cock some affection with a squeeze. “I prefer the term,bossy bottom?”

He snapped his fingers. “As long as you’re not a pillow princess, I don’t mind.”

“Pillows are for sleeping on, and I don’t see any pillows,” I said.

“There’s a desk, four walls, and a chair,” he said. “Take your pick.”

I looked my wristwatch and then back at him. “I don’t have anywhere to be. All of the above.”

Daddy’s cock jumped as I said it, a droplet of precum flying up and falling onto my face. I licked it up. Like paint, I wasn’t going to waste a drop of it.

I didn’t know if he did this often, but he had a ready pump tub of a lube in his desk drawer and condoms. I crawled over, doing my best to appear sexy with the movement of my body.

“Stay right there,” he said.

From behind, he got on his knees and started playing with my hole. Of all the situations I could’ve got myself into after that gallery opening, this was probably third on the most likely to happen. First would’ve been trolling the apps for dick, and second was falling asleep with my cock in my hand and the TV turning to static.

I leaned into his touch, letting his fingers go knuckle deep inside me. I could’ve happily entertained myself on his fingers, adjusting my positioning so he could massage my prostate. I moaned.

“Louder,” he said. “There’s nobody else here.”

I wasn’t going to force myself to do it, but for his pleasure, I did. Feeling the moan travel through the entirety of my body. My back arched and my hips dipped. His hand at my cock, milking me, and his fingers inside me touching my prostate in the same rhythm.

“On your back,” he grumbled, slapping my thigh. “I wanna see that virgin skin while I fuck it.”

“I’m not a—”

“Virgin skin,” he repeated himself.

Of course. The closest I’d gotten to permanent ink on my body was the temporary staining of red paint.

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