Page 65 of Daddy Down Under

“Feeding you. Open up.”

Automatically, I opened my mouth when he held out a strawberry. The sweet juice burst onto my tongue, full of flavor. Any thought that he only wanted me to try some fruit disappeared when he kept hand-feeding me. First, some more strawberries, then pieces of an airy croissant, smoked salmon, melon, and other fruit. All while looking at me with so much softness and tenderness that I all but melted under his gaze.

“I could get used to this,” I quipped.

“You should. I like taking care of you.”

He did. He really did.

Once breakfast was done, we watched some TV to let it settle, as Ocean said.

“Time for your massage,” he then announced.

Yes, please. I dragged myself off the couch and onto the bed in the second bedroom, which was a bit higher than the king-size one in the main. Ocean had dimmed the lights, casting the room in a soft golden glow that reminded me of sunset. He’d also put down more towels on the bed, and much to my surprise, I spotted a little bottle of massage oil on the nightstand.

“When did you get that?” I asked.

“I asked Mike yesterday to get me some, and I grabbed it when we got back from dinner.”

That meant he’d… “You planned for a pamper day yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I knew you were gonna be sore, so I wanted to be prepared.”

That man. Would he ever cease to amaze me with his care? “Thank you.”

His smile made a thousand butterflies take wing inside me. “You’re welcome, baby. Now, lie down for me. Let’s see if we can help your muscles relax a bit.”

He dripped some oil on my back. “Try to relax, okay?”

I closed my eyes as his hands landed on my shoulders, warm and gentle. His fingers worked magic, kneading the knots with the perfect amount of pressure. A groan escaped me, and when he hit a particularly tight spot in my neck, a sinful moan.

His low chuckle vibrated through me.

As he worked, my mind drifted. Why did it feel so good to let Ocean take control? I’d always prided myself on my independence, on never needing anyone. But this felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

I melted under Ocean’s touch, my muscles relaxing one by one until I felt all weak and molten. At some point, I drifted off, not quite asleep but not fully conscious. Ocean had moved on to my legs, gently loosening the cramped spots in my thighs and calves.

When he was done, I stayed where I was, in that glorious state between awake and asleep, feeling warm and rosy. I vaguely registered him washing his hands, and then the bed dipped as he curled up next to me. His warm hand found my neck and he scratched me like one would pet a kitten. I all but purred, seeking his touch.

“Mmm, good boy,” Cash said, and inside me, something unfolded, untangled, unfurled. It spread wide, this warmth, this deep sense of pleasure, euphoria almost. Like those two words had unlocked something I hadn’t been aware of. Or something I had forgotten, had pushed down, too ashamed to ever let it see the light of day again.

My eyes flew open, staring straight into Ocean’s. His face was maybe two inches from mine and he was watching me closely, as usual. “You like it when I call you that,” he said softly. “Good boy. Youlikethat.”

“I shouldn’t. It’s…” I swallowed. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I’m serious, Cash. What’s wrong with it?”

What was wrong with it? Everything. I was older than him, old enough to be his father, for fuck’s sake. I was a successful businessman, one who commanded boardrooms. How was it okay to want this? To crave this?

I closed my eyes again as thoughts collided inside my head. It was wrong, but it felt so right. My brain said I shouldn’t want this, but my heart pleaded there was no shame in submitting, in surrendering.

The rational part of me insisted I should be ashamed, but when I allowed myself to feel, that shame vaporized and a sense of rightness took over. I wanted this. I wanted Ocean to call me a good boy.Hisgood boy.

“I’m so conflicted,” I finally whispered, opening my eyes again to find Ocean looking at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“I know.”

He didn’t try to convince me, and somehow, that made me love him even more. Because I was in love with him. Deeply, madly, completely in love with him in a way that would leave me picking up the pieces of my shattered heart if he ever left me.

---