Page 118 of Whistle

We stared for long moments, just the sight of him a buffet for a starving man. My breathing turned shallow, his presence filling me so much I couldn’t draw a full breath. Suddenly, I felt like a giant bruise, and his whispered words were like a finger pressing into the most tender and aching spot.

“Don’t do the auction.”

A deep, guttural groan ripped out of me, and I leaned out of the doorframe to pull him inside, slamming the door behind us.

He collided with my chest, and I used my body to bully him into the door, plastering myself against him and pinning him in place. Fisting both hands in all that golden hair, I yanked his head back, forcing his face up so I could stare down.

The intensity of his eyes created twin blue flames, promising to leave scars wherever they touched. The very tip of his pink tongue darted out, dampening the center of his plump bottom lip. “I really hate you sometimes.”

I crushed our mouths together. Our inhale at the exact moment we touched was like a vacuum seal locking us together. All logic annihilated, I could only ravage his mouth, holding him so tight the joints in my fingers started to ache.

I felt him straining against me and slid my thigh between his legs and lifted, pushing his back up the door until we were on the same level. His hands shot out and grabbed my ears, pulling me even tighter against him as his tongue scrambled for purchase against mine. The air around us turned humid, and every nerve ending in my body hummed to the tune of his kiss.

His hips began to rock, the sensual movement bleeding with desperation and punctuated by the whimpers breaking into our kiss. He released my ears and filled his palms with my jaw, rubbing over the trimmed stubble and humming with satisfaction. Emboldened, he tugged my lip between his, sucking and nibbling until it felt raw, and then lapped at the bruised flesh like an apology.

Fisting his hair again, I pulled his head back, exposing his throat, and pushed his body a little higher so I could kiss down the unblemished column and latch on. His high-pitched keen filled the dark house, and I increased the pressure, too far gone to worry about later and only answering to now. To the urge to mark him. Bruise him. Make him feel the ache he forced upon me.

“Daddy,” he rasped, arching even farther into the attack, begging for the wicked stamp that would surely be left behind on his skin.

I growled against his flesh, scraping my teeth across what I’d just done, and then lowered his feet to the ground and ripped the shirt over his head.

His chest heaved, nipples swollen and hard. His jeans were loose like always, hanging so low the tops of his hipbones jutted out and the diamond stud in his navel winked like a star on a cloudless night.

I wanted him so badly that it almost made me angry. Like there was so much fucking desire between us that there was no hope at all to control it. Overwhelmed and blind to lust, I caught him around the throat, pushing him once more against the cool wood of the door. His eyes went wide and then hazy at the domination, and it was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. Tightening my hand, I felt him swallow, felt the way his Adam’s apple dragged over the palm of my hand.

“Take your pants off,” I demanded.

His lips moved, but I held his throat too tight, so I lightened my fist enough for him to speak. “Yes, Daddy.”

The sound of the button popping and the slow drag of the zipper had my dick threatening to rip through my track pants. With a slight push, the jeans pooled around his feet and brushed the tops of mine.

“Good boy,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

I pulled back, and he straightened off the door, several whispered curses dropping from my lips.

“Look at you,” I praised, my hands hovering around him like he was too precious to touch. “Did you wear these for me?” I asked, drinking in the sight of the lilac satin bikini briefs. They were silky and smooth against his firm, hairless skin and cupped his rigid length like a glove. The waistline was sheer lilac-colored lace, and in the center was a small satin bow.

I gestured for him to spin, and he bent to remove the jeans still around his ankles. I made a sound, and he glanced up.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

He straightened and turned, awkwardly shuffling because his jeans were still bunched around his feet. His palms pressed against the door, back arching slightly as he showed me his backside.

I bit into the inside of my lower lip, looking at his succulent ass ensconced completely in see-through lace. The scalloped edges flirted with his ass cheeks and cut low enough on his waist to show off a dimple right above his crack.

Lust warred with affection when he glanced over his shoulder, vulnerability deep in his eyes. I dropped to my knees right there before him, shuffling forward to pull his shoes and jeans away. When they were gone, I palmed his hips and pressed my face into the crease of his ass, expelling my warm breath over the lace.

He shivered, and I mouthed at his flawless flesh before pulling back and rotating him to stare up his body, letting my own vulnerability touch his. “You are literal perfection,” I told him. “It does not get better than you.”

His eyes flickered, knuckles brushing across my cheek.

And then he dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Now I’m on my knees for you too.”

We stayed that way for uncounted moments, both of us bowing down to the sheer force of whatever it was that had been unleashed between us. I wasn’t sure I’d ever stood a chance, and looking at him now, I thought perhaps he hadn’t either.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my pants, dragging lightly over the sensitized skin. He tugged, and I pushed them down, taking my boxer briefs with them. My cock spilled out instantly, jutting straight off my body. It was swollen and ached, near desperate for his hands.

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