Page 75 of Born Daddy

Rogan laced their fingers together and carefully raised Tate’s arms above his head. He bent one knee to lift some weight off Tate’s body, but continued to plunder his mouth, tasting, exploring, sharing breaths as the kiss grew into the most intense exchange Tate had ever shared with a man.

Tate whimpered into the kiss, his cock leaking as his arousal took hold and threatened to break him apart. Why wouldn’t Rogan take off his clothes already? He needed skin against skin, their sweat pooling between them as they writhed in each other’s arms, as they worked toward a shared release that would forever change the course of their lives.

“Don’t move,” Rogan whispered against Tate’s ear.

As he rose, cooler air wafted across Tate’s body and he shuddered. But the sense he had was that the reaction was more from adrenaline than being cold. He ached to have his Daddy back on top of him, holding him down with his larger frame, protecting and loving him.

Tate stretched across the soft, down comforter that he’d been wrapping himself in every night, his Daddy’s scent barely detectable, but still a comfort that allowed him to quickly fall asleep. That was all he’d had to cling to, since Rogan had insisted on giving Tate clean sheets and pillowcases. He’d wanted to tell Rogan to leave them, but had been too worried that Rogan would figure out why.

He was done hiding how much he hungered for Rogan.

Tate watched in anticipation as Rogan shucked off his jeans, leaving only his briefs. He’d caught a glimpse of Rogan’s bare chest one time as he’d come out of the shower, the bedroom door ajar just enough that he’d been treated to the sight of his muscled frame before Rogan had covered himself again.

Rogan locked eyes with him, then slid his hands beneath his waistband, stretching the elastic over his hardened length, Rogan’s generous cock springing free. Tate’s own cock jumped in response to the visual, and he couldn’t decide what would be better—Rogan’s long, thick cock down his throat or in his ass.

Tate ran his hand down his chest, stopping short of touching his prick. He knew better than to cross that line. And knowing that Daddy owned his body, was the one who controlled his pleasure—that itself was an aphrodisiac.

“You’re being a good boy, aren’t you? Waiting for your Daddy.” Rogan’s voice was low, heavy with desire.

“Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want, I’m yours.” He bit his bottom lip. “But I want you inside me most of all.”

Rogan’s breath hitched and he cleared his throat. “We don’t have to go that far tonight, sweetheart. This is about you, making you feel good.”

“Don’t you like doing that?” Tate had never met a Daddy who didn’t want to bury himself in a boy the first chance he got.

Rogan groaned. “I love doing that, but I want to be sure you’re ready.”

If Rogan didn’t get back on top of him in the next few seconds, Tate was going to touch himself anyway. He imagined that would illicit an immediate response. He’d never been such a naughty boy before, but Rogan sparked a decadence in him he didn’t realize could exist.

“I’ve never been more ready. I’m giving myself, all of myself, to you.” Tate inched his hand closer to the tip of his cock. “Take me. Make me yours.”

Rogan nodded, the motion jerky. “Nothing would make me happier.” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Give me a sec. I have to grab what we need from the bathroom.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Tate intended to say those words to Rogan every day for the rest of his life. He refused to allow himself to think otherwise, to let fear creep in and take away his joy, to plant uncertainty in his mind. Rogan wouldn’t give up on being a Daddy. Rogan wouldn’t leave him. Tate doubted he would survive it if he did.

Rogan returned, lube and a condom in hand and placed them on the bed. He dimmed the nightstand light, leaving enough of a glow so Tate could still see every delicious inch of Rogan’s solid body, the muscles rippling beneath his skin as he crawled back onto the mattress.

Rogan planted both palms on either side of Tate’s head, gazing down at him with an expression of wonder. Tate drank in the perfection of Rogan’s ruggedly handsome features, the strong jawline, straight nose and heavily-lashed green eyes. In the sunlight, tiny flecks of gold could sometimes be seen in the irises, and Tate had found it hard not to stare when they’d been at the beach.

At last, Rogan smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re like this fantasy creature to me, Tate. Otherworldly, angelic and beautiful. I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. And I’m yours too, all yours. No one else’s.”

Tate’s throat thickened, his chest tightening from the promise in Rogan’s words. “Then please make love to me, Daddy?”

Rogan smiled wider. “Whatever my sweet boy wants.”

He took Tate’s mouth in another kiss, but gentler, more languid. Rogan slid his hands down Tate’s body, kneading and caressing, the slow exploration driving Tate mad. His cock leaked more, and Rogan’s fingers skated through the drops of precum that had pooled on Tate’s belly. Rogan broke the kiss to stick his own fingers into his mouth, humming as he licked Tate’s essence from them.

Tate sucked in a sharp breath then let go, allowing himself to be Rogan’s playground as his Daddy dragged his tongue along Tate’s jaw, nibbled on his ear then continued down his throat until he reached one of Tate’s hard nipples. Tate gasped and arched his back the moment Rogan locked onto the sensitive bit of flesh.

Rogan tormented one, then the other, until Tate was a whimpering mess, desperately writhing beneath his Daddy. Rogan held him down with one hand clasped around Tate’s arm, and the other palming the top of Tate’s head. He anchored Tate to the bed by placing his thigh over Tate’s legs, pinning him down, forcing him to surrender to the onslaught of pleasure.

After leaving Tate’s nipples aching and swollen, Rogan continued trailing kisses down his middle until Rogan’s heated breath blew over Tate’s twitching erection. He worried he wouldn’t last until his Daddy was inside him.

Rogan lifted his head. “Come whenever you want. We have all night.”

Tate wanted to cry out a relieved ‘thank you’. Now he could relax and truly let go for his first time with his Daddy.

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