Page 12 of Babe

When he shivered, his shaft overly sensitive, I pulled off of him before flattening my chest to the bed. Hooking my hands behind his knees, I pushed his legs back, then licked my tongue over his pretty little hole. He whined. “Paaapaaa,” he gasped, his fingers sliding through my hair and clinging on.

I ate him out like he was my last meal. Like I was a man on death row. And honestly, if I truly were on death row, he would be the only thing I’d want to eat. I’d want one more moment of making him fall apart.

He rode my face, gasping and moaning. And when I snatched the lube out of my nightstand and smeared some onto my fingers, pressing into him, he cried out, pulling me up his body to kiss me. Our kiss was sloppy and messy and so damn drugging. And the erotic sounds he made as I fucked my fingers into him, spreading him open and prepping him for my cock, were goddamn pornographic.

“Now,” he panted. “Now, Papa. Inside of me.”

Groaning, I kissed him one more time, unable to help myself. Then, I snatched a condom out of my nightstand drawer and sheathed myself before smearing more lube over the latex. I didn’t want anything between us, but he was so tight, a condom would make taking me easier on his body.

Our eyes locked as I pressed against him, and Ace bore down, accepting me into his body. He gripped my forearms, clinging to me as his body opened up more and more, letting me in deeper and deeper. And just like I figured, being inside of him was Earth-shattering. Fucking cataclysmic.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so hot and tight. So perfect for Papa,” I breathed, gripping his thighs and tugging his body closer. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and I wrapped an arm around him to help him sit up.

Once he got his legs under him, I was done for. Fucking wrecked. He rose on his knees and then slowly lowered himself, both of us groaning at the feel of my cock sliding deeper inside of him. When I gripped his hips, guiding him and helping him along, he wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his face against my shoulder, and he began to fuck himself on me, bouncing up and down on my straining length.

“Ace baby, look at me,” I panted. When he lifted his head, I kissed him. “You’re so goddamn perfect. You’re mine. You hear me? Mine.”

He nodded, whining, his balls drawing up tight to his body. “Yes, Papa.” He sobbed, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m yours. You’re mine, too. Please say you’re mine, too.”

I nodded. “I’m yours, too, sweet boy. Fucking forever.”

He burst into tears just as his cum streaked over his belly and chest. I crushed him against my chest, his cum sticky between us, and I fucked up into him once, twice, three more times, and then I was shattering along with him, holding my crying boy as he fell apart, clinging to me, something in him loosening and healing all at once.

“I love you,” I rasped. “It’s crazy fucking fast, sweet boy, but I fucking love you.” I knew it with every fiber of my being. Every single piece of my soul. There would never be anyone for me but Ace.

He nodded, his nails digging into the back of my neck. I didn’t need him to say the words back. This moment between us was all I needed.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gunner

Ace snuggled deeper into my arms, his eyelids drooping. After we’d both practically cum our brains out, I’d warmed up breakfast, and we sat down to eat with Ace in my lap. He wasn’t ready to be apart from me, and honestly, I didn’t want to let him go either. I wanted him as close as possible. Beneath my fucking skin. Unfortunately though, that kind of closeness wasn’t possible.

“You sleepy, sweet boy?” I murmured, reaching up to rake my fingers through his hair. He just sleepily nodded, his eyelids finally shutting as he gave in to the temptation to sleep. I snatched the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around him, content to sit here while he napped. “Get some rest?—”

My front door banged open, swinging so hard, the doorknob lodged into my wall. I shot to my feet, shoving Ace behind me as I glared at the five men standing in my living room, two of them aiming assault rifles at me. I ground my teeth together, a sneer curling my upper lip. Just who the fuck did these assholes think they were?

“Where is he?” one of the men snapped. He was wearing glasses, and while his beard was long, it was neatly trimmed and well-kept. His reddish-brown hair was cropped short, revealing tattoos on his neck. There was no mistaking the fury in his dark eyes as he glared at me.

Ace suddenly stepped out from behind me, a gun in his hand, and he was pointing it right at the fucker who’d spoken. The man’s eyes widened in disbelief, and now that Ace was out in the open, I noticed the other two lowered their weapons so they weren’t aimed at my boy.

Smart thinking because I was a hairsbreadth away from snatching that gun from my boy and putting bullets in their skulls for putting him in harm’s way.

“Ace…” I growled, my hands latching around his upper arms to force him back behind me. I didn’t even know how he knew where my pistol was, but while I was glad we had some kind of weapon, I didn’t like it being in his hands. Especially not when he was facing five hostile men.

“Get your hands off of him,” another man growled. He was thickly muscled like me, a backward ball cap resting on his head. There was no mistaking the threat in his stance, nor the shrewd look in his eyes as he looked pointedly at where my hands rested on Ace.

“Fuck you,” I growled, wrapping my arms around Ace’s chest and yanking him back against me—as if I could shield him from whatever might come our way. They didn’t seem interested in harming me with Ace in the way though. “Put your goddamn guns away.”

“You kidnapped?—”

“Put your fucking guns down before I put a hole in your skulls,” Ace snarled, glaring at the men in front of us as he clicked the safety off. A heavily tattooed man sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at Ace in surprise. “I mean it. Put them down.”

“Kid, you don’t even like to be touched,” a lankier guy with a beard, his hair pulled back in a small bun, snapped. He was one of the ones holding an assault rifle. “Is this Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Too early for Stockholm Syndrome,” I said dryly, making him glare at me. I met his gaze evenly, not even flinching. They were nothing compared to the fuckers I’d dealt with overseas.

“Fuck you, Cameron,” Ace bit. “Any of you ever stop for two fucking seconds to wonder if maybe Gunner had been helping me?”

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