Page 43 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

I tug the jeans and boxers down at the same time, and once his feet are free, I look up at him. I flick my tongue over thetip of his cock, and his balls grow tight instantly. I don’t want to make him come so soon, though. But I do want to make him feel good.

Spencer fists my hair and pulls my head back. “Stop. I don’t want to come yet.”

I stand and pull him against me. “I’ll let that go for now, but in future, if I want you to come, I’m going to make you come. And you’ll thank me too.” I peck his lips and give his perfect, round arse a slap. “Get the water running, little one.”

I strip out of my clothes, step in behind him, and run my hands over his chest, searching for the bell bars I love. Spencer rests his head on my shoulder and pushes his chest into my fingers.

“So responsive,” I murmur, tugging and twisting the bars. He writhes, oblivious to the fact that his arse is swaying against my erection. I release one of the bars and slide my hand down to his cock. “Are you ready to come now? I promise it won’t be your last orgasm tonight.”

With a firm grip, I stroke his length and rut my cock between his thighs, rubbing his hole as well as his taint, right up to his sac. His moans grow louder as I speed up my fist. “Come, little one. Come for Daddy.”

I hold Spencer through his tremendous orgasm, keeping him upright as he shakes and trembles through the aftershocks. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

I take my time to wash him and, after quickly cleaning myself, switch off the shower. I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, then take a larger one and lead Spencer out so I can dry him.

Spencer chuckles. “You don’t have to do this, Daddy.”

“I know, but I like to. I get to keep my hands on you for longer.” I dry his legs and drop the towel onto the rail. “Bedtime.”

He gives me a sly smile. “I am tired.”

“It’s not time to sleep, little one. Not yet anyway. I promised you more orgasms.”

“I’m not sure I’ve got another one in me.”

“We’ll see.” I scrape my teeth along his shoulder. “You’re so responsive to me.”

“Time to get me into bed, Daddy.” He walks away from me with all the swish and sway of a runway model.

It doesn’t take my long legs to catch up with him and swat his bun again. “You want a burning arse to go with that orgasm?”

He climbs onto my bed, just as he’d done nearly a month ago. He looks just as sure of himself too. He knows how much I want him, want to be with him, and it makes him bold and beautiful.

I meet him in the middle, and we face each other. “I want so much with you, Spencer. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street, I want to dance with you in clubs, and I want to sit next to you at Sunday dinner with your family. Are you with me?”

He rolls his eyes, and my hand twitches, eager to spank him. “Yes, Carl, I want that too, although I don’t think calling you Daddy in front of our families is a good idea, not yet anyway. As long as you always correct people who think I’m your son, we have a good thing ahead of us.”

He shuffles closer on his knees and strokes my chest through the hairs, humming softly. Then he kisses me, brushinghis hand down my body and taking hold of my aching erection. “It’s time we put this gorgeous beast to good use, Daddy.”

“Excellent idea.” I nudge him gently, encouraging him to lie down. When he stretched out, I reach over to the drawer and pull out the supplies.

And even though the slide inside him is softer, sweeter, and a lot less frantic, I am home. We rock together as our hands caress, and our lips taste the warm skin everywhere we can reach. Spencer comes first, scraping his nails down my back hard enough to leave marks. I follow soon after, crying out his name.

I clean us both up, and when I get back into bed, Spencer is already half-asleep. I pull him to me and curl around his body, happy for the first time in three weeks.

It’s been two weeks since I got my head out of my arse and let Carl back into my heart, and I’ve stayed with him every night. So today is the day. I look around the table at my family. My mum seems to be having three conversations at the same time: one with my dad, one with my sister, and one with my niece. I promised Carl I would tell them about him, about us today, and if he wants, he could come and pick me up afterwards.

“Only if your dad doesn’t own a shotgun or even a cricket bat.”

“I don’t think the suburbs of Leeds have much use for a shotgun, but he probably has a cricket bat lying around from back when he tried to pass on his enthusiasm for the game to me, which, to his chagrin, never happened. I’ll hide it before I tell them.”

“You do that.” He kisses me and lets me get into work.

“I thought you’d like to know I’ve met someone,” I say to no one in particular. Someone will pick up on it soon enough.

The talking continues for about ten more seconds. My eldest sister, Beth, is the first to catch up. “You’ve what?”

“Met someone.”

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