Page 48 of Fitch

“I try not to think about it,” he said. “I try not to imagine what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with. I know I have no right. But I worry about you. If they treat you well, if you’re okay.” His eyes met mine, clear and honest. “And I don’t know if not knowing is worse than knowing. Because if you told me, then I’d know. And I’d be picturing it...” He frowned again and pulled his hand back. “Sorry. That’s unfair on you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There were two ways this could go. He could struggle with my being a rent boy and it would eat him alive, or he could learn to live with it.

That was it.

Those were his two options.

Now it was me who took his hand, lacing our fingers and keeping it on my thigh. “I can’t change who I am or what I do,” I said gently.

Dom nodded. “I know. I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m just... this is new to me and I’m just...”

“Jealous?” I tried to joke.

His eyes shot to mine. “Learning to deal with it,” he corrected.

He wasactuallyjealous.

I couldn’t hide my smile very well.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” I told him, “after my nights with you, I take the next night off. One, because you pay me enough to cover it, and two, to give my arse a break.”

This clearly did not placate him. “Do you always have to do anal?” Then he cringed at himself. “No, don’t answer that. I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

Well, he was right about that. It wasn’t his business. But hewastrying to learn how to deal with it.

Because he was jealous, and he was trying to accept it.

I moved closer to him, looking up at him through my lashes. I knew it was a low blow, but it was his weakness, and I wanted to reassure him without souring the mood any further. “I don’t always. Most of the time I just use my mouth but usually my hand. I want to save myself for you, daddy.”

He made a low, rumbling sound, and with one arm around me, he pulled me flush against him. He ran his hand down my back to my arse, giving me a firm squeeze. “I like hearing that,” he said.

I smiled up at him, wriggling a little for good measure. “And I like hearing that you don’t like thinking about other men touching me. I like a jealous daddy.”

“Jealous? Really?”

I ran my hand over his chest, giving his nipple a tweak. He was so freaking jealous and now he was trying to deny it? I chuckled. “Jealous and possessive are my favourite of daddy’s traits,” I murmured. “It reminds me who I belong to.”

He gripped my face, a little too hard, not quite hard enough. His gaze was intense, burning hot. “Who do you belong to, boy?”

“You, daddy. Only you,” I said, my voice tight.

This pleased him, his smile proud and warm. He gave my arse another squeeze, rubbing his thick fingers close to my hole, teasing me. The tiny shorts made it so easy for him. “Such a good boy,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect.”

But then he stopped, as if he hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. He blinked and tried to smile. “I’ll clean up dinner,” he said as he stood up, leaving me on the couch. He collected the bowls and cups from the coffee table and took them to the kitchen.

“I can help,” I said, hurrying to follow him. “Isn’t that a boy’s job? To clean up and help?”

Dom slid the crockery into his dishwasher. “Or is it a daddy’s job to clean up after his boy?” He looked up at me, smiling... until his eyes drew down my body. He grunted a filthy sound, and when I looked down, I could see why.

My dick was half hard and these teeny shorts were unforgiving. I put my hand over the tented fabric in an attempt at squeezing myself into submission.

It didn’t work.

I whined. “I’m sorry. It’s not my fault. You pulled me against you, and your hand kept squeezing my bottom, your thick fingers so close to my little boy hole. It felt good, daddy. You called me a good boy and making you happy makes me feel so good.” I gave my dick a slow squeeze through the material. “Makes my penis hard. I can’t help it.”

He watched me, enraptured, desire in his darkened eyes. He closed the dishwasher, put his big hands on my waist, and lifted me to sit on the kitchen counter.

I did a little happy wiggle. “Oh, am I allowed up here?”

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