Page 27 of Celebrating the Season

His body went tense. Enough dallying. I went easy on him with the first few slaps, spreading them out over both ass cheeks, which jiggled with every strike. He counted, his breath hitching with every hit.

And I had been right. Boaz’s ass looked delicious with my marks on it. If I hadn’t promised to pose for him, I’d fuck him right after, press that glowing red skin against me. But maybe that was too much for the first time.

“Eight,” he counted, sounding breathless.

I put a little more force behind the last two. “There, all done.”

Without waiting for his response, I hauled him back into a sitting position, his pants still pooled at his ankles. “How did that feel?”

His eyes were a tad glassy, his skin flushed, and he took his time answering. “Different from what I had expected.”

“In what way?”

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

“I went easy on you for your first time.”

He looked pensive. “I like how it feels now, all glowing.”

“I love how your ass cheeks look with my handprints on them.”

His face broke open in a sexy smile. “I can tell. You’re hard.”

“I like spanking…and your ass is perfect, sweetheart. You’re so sexy.”

The sass returned to his expression. “If you think you can distract me enough to get out of posing for me, you’re wrong.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He slid off my lap and pulled up his pants, then bent in and kissed me. “Thank you, El. For letting me try.”

“Anytime.”

“Now strip.”

Still smiling, I unbuttoned my flannel shirt and took it off. The casual intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on me. Just days ago, we’d been strangers. Now, here I was, stripping for his artistic pleasure.

“Actually, leave the sweatpants on, but drag them down,” Boaz instructed.

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Boaz rolled his eyes. “Duh. As if I hadn’t noticed. That’s the whole point.”

Okay, then.

Boaz’s eyes roamed over me, his gaze intense. “Could you lean back, one arm behind your head? I want your right hand around your cock, jerking yourself off. You’re hard anyway, so we might as well make good use of that.”

Damn. He wasn’t messing around. “Sure.”

I caught Boaz's appreciative gaze as I stretched out on the couch. His eyes lingered on my chest, tracing the curves of muscle and the dusting of gray hair. I flexed a little, enjoying the way his breath hitched.

“Can you turn your head a little to the left? Perfect. Just like that.”

I held the pose, watching as Boaz’s usual frenetic energy focused into intense concentration. He grabbed his iPad and the special pen and settled in the chair across from me, legs folded. His hand moved swiftly as he looked up at me, then down again at his iPad.

I held still, marveling at the change in him. This Boaz—focused, confident in his craft—was a revelation. The depth of talent hidden behind his usual hyperactive exterior stirred something in me. Pride, maybe. Or something dangerously close to affection.

As I watched him work, a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with arousal. This kid, with his motormouth and boundless enthusiasm, was working his way under my skin. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. The softness I felt watching him, the way my heart raced when he laughed—it was all too much, too fast.

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