Page 17 of A Daddy for Christmas 2: Kitt

“Just hurry up,” I said, though what he had on seemed fine to me.

He pulled off his shoes and then pushed down his jeans along with his Spiderman underpants to come over and stand way too close, his dick brushing up against me. It seemed he was still not willing to stop trying to seduce me. I suppose he still thought he could get out of this by trading his body for sex. His body was perfection—lean and hard, and his skin was smooth and white. His cock was pretty much perfect as well, just right in size—not so big as to make another guy envious, but large and full and ready for action, flushed a dark pink.

“Can I get a shower first?”

“Maybe later. Right now, we need to make up for lost time. No funny stuff or I’ll put cuffs on you, and I’ll take you out of here just like you are.”

“Aye, Aye, sir,” the little smart ass said, saluting me with his free hand. “Anything you say, sir.”

“Oh, you think this is a good time to be a smart ass? With that bare butt of yours so handy?”

His eyes widened and he stepped back, holding onto his ass. “No. No, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Then get dressed or I’ll put you over my knee.”

He angled a look up at me and drew his pants on slowly, giving me an eyeful of that shapely ass. “How did you find me again anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He gave me another pouty look and started searching for a shirt. He finally pulled another t-shirt from the bag, very much like the one he just took off. I wondered what this all had been about, other than another chance to seduce me. I let him put on his shirt, but not the shoes.

“What? Do you really expect me to go barefoot? But I’ll get my feet dirty.”

“You’ll be okay. And easier to catch if you decide to run again.”

He huffed at that and held out his hands by his side. “Then I guess I’m all yours.”

Not yet, but you’re going to be.

The thought had popped into my head fully formed and so loud and strong I almost said it to his face, though I managed to stifle it at the last second. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Get your bag and put your shoes and socks inside it. Then let’s go.”

“Can’t I at least go pee first?”

I sighed. “All right, go ahead. But keep the door open.”

He grabbed his bag, shot me a resentful look—which I thought showed an awful lot of nerve—and went in the bathroom, making an elaborate show of pushing back the door.

I went to stand in the doorway just to be as big an ass as he was being. I watched him do what he needed to do and pull on a Superman ballcap he got out of his bag because I “hadn’t given him enough time to fix his hair, and it looked bad.”

When he finally finished, I took a custodial grip on his arm and took him downstairs. “Give me the keys to the car you stole from me.”

He blushed and handed them over. I walked him out to my rental and put the keys under the mat and locked the door. Then I walked him over to my other SUV and put him in the front seat, buckling him in. I grabbed his wrist and cuffed him to the armrest, while he looked on resentfully, as I called the Vegas office of the car rental agency and arranged for my other SUV to be picked up. I paid the extra charge over the phone and then we were back on the road, headed east.

He held out about ten minutes before he couldn’t stand it and started yelling as he saw I was headed to the airport.

“I’m not going on an airplane, and I mean it.” He folded his arms over his chest and stuck out his chin. “I’m not!”

“You’ll do as you’re told.”

He turned to me then, with honest-to-God tears standing in his pretty eyes again. Damn him, he drew those tears on me like a knife.

“Please don’t make me. Please, please… I just can’t.”

I sighed and pulled over to the side of the road. I needed to get to the bottom of this shit, because it was damned inconvenient.

“Why are you freaking out so much?”

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