Page 45 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

“Move your hand, little one.” His voice is stern. He continues his journey to my crotch and zip.

“You can’t mess about while you’re driving, Daddy.”

“Then make it easy for me and undo your jeans.”

“What are you going to do?” My fingers are already on the button.

“Me? Nothing. You’re going to stroke yourself, and you’re not allowed to come. If you do, you’ll get punished.”

I let out a breath. I can do that. I release his hand, quickly undo my jeans, and pull out my dick. I look around. Thank god the tinted glass prevents anyone from seeing in. I give my hardening cock a stroke. If I go slowly, I’ll be able to hold off.

“Harder and faster, little one. I want to hear you pant as you hold on.”

We stop at traffic lights, and he leans over and kisses me. After a nip on my lip, he pulls away. “Come on. Keep going.”

A large pearl of pre-cum has burst from the slit, and I gather it to use as lube. I push my jeans down lower and tug on my balls to stop the orgasm that’s fizzing in my spine. I glance out the window. How much farther do we have to go? Shit, he’s gone the long way through the town. “I can’t, Daddy. I’m not going to be able to hold it in.”

“Of course you can. Think how happy you’ll make me. You don’t want me to spank you, do you?” he asks, smugness in his voice. I groan. He isn’t playing fair, but he knows my guilty secret. I’ve begged for it a couple of times. He only has to mention him spanking me, and my climax rockets to my balls.

We’re getting closer to his building. Can I do this?

“You’ve stopped, Spencer. Keep going. It’s not far now. I’m sure you don’t want my handprints on your arse.”

“Unng!” I grunt, and as he turns into the parking garage, cum splatters over my hand.

I grin as Spencer shoots his load into his palm. I already decided to spank him this evening, but playing a game makes it much more exciting. The side effect of him wanking when I can’t touch him is my raging boner. But sinking into him after his punishment will be worth the wait.

“Oh, Spencer. So close too.”

He narrows his eyes, but a smile is hiding behind his twitching lips. “You did that on purpose.”

I shrug. “I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.” I unclick my seat belt and lean over the console for another kiss. “But that was fucking hot, little one.”

“I need a tissue,” Spencer says.

I open the glove box and bring out a pack of hand wipes. It doesn’t take me long to clean him up.

In the lift, Spencer strokes my chest and bats his eyelids. “Are you really going to spank me?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Have you changed your mind?” Has he never been spanked? He made it sound as if he likes it through experience over desire.

“Hell, no!” He grins. “I just wondered.”

“Then you’d better get into our bedroom and undress.”

The lift door wooshes open.

He gives me a curious look, then darts into the apartment, laughing loudly. Did he notice I said our bedroom? That’s what it has become. It’s only a matter of time before I ask him to make it permanent.

The moment I step in the bedroom, my breath hitches. Never have I seen such a beautiful sight. My boy on his elbows and knees, his round arse up in the air. Since I came out, I’d fucked plenty of men, but never has anyone evoked the feelings Spencer does. It isn’t just lust, a craving to fuck him seven ways till Sunday. That’s true, but he brings out an emotion I never thought I’d feel again. One that is so wasted on such a small, innocuous four-letter word—Love. I’m falling in love with him.

I kick off my shoes and yank my T-shirt over my head. I keep my jeans on but remove my belt and pop open the button. As I draw parallel to the bed, I stroke over the curve of his arse. “Tell me you’ve done this before.”

He looks at me, his pupils blown to an inky black. “Once or twice, maybe three times. No more than a handful.”

“They can’t have been that memorable if you’re not sure.” I smirk and run a fingertip down his crease. “I’ll make sure you never forget this one.” I give him one solid crack on his left cheek. He yelps, a lovely sound.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my legs apart. “Over my knee, boy.” I pat my thigh. Spencer scrambles to get into position with his back arched and his arse in the air. I brush my hand over the red handprint.

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