Page 46 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

“Ready, boy. This is because you came when I’d told you not to.”

With a breathless voice, he confirms. “Yes, Daddy.”

The first smack is over the same cheek. Spencer lets out a gasp, but I don’t allow him to process the sensation and hit himuntil his arse cheek is bright red and warm. I move to the other side. He’s squirming, fidgeting to get away from my touch. He hasn’t lost himself in the feelings yet. But he will. With my free hand, I keep his back down and wind a leg around his, fixing him on my lap.

“Just feel, little one. Don’t fight the feelings.” I slap him, alternating sides, but the pressure is the same. As he sinks lower, I soothe the angry skin. He found his space. It won’t be long before he’s flying. I trace a finger between his cheeks to his hole and tease the tight pucker.

“Daaaaddy,” he whines, pushing back onto my finger.

I ramp up the smacks until he cries out, then slumps and hits his space. It’s easy to gather him up in my arms and cradle him to me. “Such a good boy, so perfect for Daddy.”

He wraps his arms around my neck and sighs. “Unforgettable, Daddy.”

I smile, kiss his hair, and stroke up and down his back until he stirs. When he lifts his head, his eyes sparkle. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” I kiss him deeply, our tongues entwined. He shifts and straddles my legs. I cup his arse, the flesh warm under my fingers, and scrape my nails over the tender skin. Spencer moans into my mouth. I want—no, I need to be inside him. “Ride me, little one.” I groan against his lips.

Spencer slides off my thighs and retrieves the condoms and lube from the drawer while I shuck out of my jeans. My rock-hard shaft slaps against my stomach, leaving a sticky patch from the pre-cum leaking from the tip. He expertly runs the condom down my length and slicks it up with lube. I grab the bottle and pour some onto my fingers. When Spencer straddlesme again, I reach behind him to stretch him open. One finger becomes three.

“Enough,” he grunts. “I’m ready.”

After lining my cock to his hole, he sinks down. No easing onto me gingerly but taking me balls deep in one swift movement. I hold firmly on to his waist as he sets a punishing pace. It isn’t going to take him long to reach his climax and force mine out of me. I want him to go slow, to take it easy, but it isn’t my call. I put him in charge and have to let him take what he wants from me.

Only when his thighs tremble and he shakes from the effort do I take over. Spencer rests his hands on my chest as I rut hard and fast into his velvet, smooth, hot channel. “Come for me, little one.”

I fist his dick and stroke him in time with my thrusts. With a silent cry and his head thrown back, he comes. Thick ropes of cum pelt our stomachs. The squeeze of his muscles around my dick pulls me deeper inside and milk the cum from me. I empty my load into the condom, crying out his name.

As my dick softens and slides free, I roll us onto our sides and remove the condom. Spencer’s eyes are closed, and a satisfied smile plays on his lips. One I’m sure I mirror.

“Are you okay?” I whisper. He nods and blinks at me.

“Yeah, I’m feeling kind of high.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing, Daddy. I am a bit sticky, though. Can we have a shower?”

“How about a bath?”

Spencer widens his eyes. “Together?”

“Yes, little one, together. As if I’d let you do this alone. Stay here. I’ll go and get it ready.” I slide out of bed and padinto the bathroom. I feel his gaze on my arse, but I don’t turn around. I plug the bath and turn on the taps. My children gave me some essential oils last Christmas, which I’ve never used and stored in the cupboard between the sinks. But now they prove to be handy, and I pour a few drops of lavender oil into the water. Next, I search for the soothing gel I’ll need for his arse. I don’t want it to bruise, but the idea of him remembering my hand when he moves and sits appeals to me.

I check the temperature and switch off the water. “Do I need to carry you?” I go back into our bedroom.

“Hmm, as nice as that thought is, I can walk.” He shifts to the edge, swings his legs off the bed, and stands. As he stretches his arms above his head, he winces. “That’s a burn I’m going to be feeling for a few days. But I guess that’s what you want.”

“As long as it wasn’t too much, then yes, I like the idea of you feeling me when we’re not together. Come on, the bath is ready.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I ask Carl, who checks himself in the full-length mirror and smoothes down his deep navy shirt. Another month has passed, and I’m virtually living in his apartment, only going home for more clothes.

“Yes, I’m sure. Anyway, I thought you and Nate were getting on well. Charlotte is looking forward to meeting you.” I sit on the edge of the bed, biting my thumbnail. I doubt that very much. Charlotte brushed over any conversations about me, turning it back to her.

“We are, but there’s a difference between working at the shelter together and going out for a meal.” I sigh. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Why is it any different from me having dinner with your family?” He walks over to me and tips my head up so I’m looking at him. “It’ll be good, I promise.”

“Okay, but only because I love you.” The second I say the words, I freeze. Not because it isn’t true, but because we haven’t said the words to each other yet.

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