Page 17 of His Stepdad Wears Leather

Once the door closed behind them the sound of music was muted, though a heavy thump of the bass still washed over him. The light was a little brighter there, halogens casting illumination on dozens upon dozens of cardboard cases. Noah’s nostrils flared, assaulted by the scent of stale beer.

“Through here,” the bartender said, dragging him farther back.

They stopped before a door marked ‘Management’ and the guy pressed a code into the lock. A moment later, he was urged inside. Noah glanced around, realizing how alone they were. Doubt hit him for a brief moment. Anything could happen in that office.

No one could hear him scream.

It reminded him of the car he’d run from. Had he only ended up walking into a trap of similar design?

His gut told him no.

He spun to face his bartender. A small lamp cast meager light around the space filled with filing cabinets, a desk, an office chair, and an armchair that seemed to have seen better days. It wasn’t the most romantic of venues, but better than a men’s bathroom—which was all he’d been expecting.

“Quiet back here,” Noah whispered.

“Mmhmmm,” the bartender murmured. “Fewer prying eyes, too.”

“You don’t know,” Noah said with false bravado. He lifted a brow, smiling. “Maybe Ilikeprying eyes.”

“If you’d rather move this elsewhere, just say the word,” the bartender answered with a grin. “I’m always game for a little show and tell, if you are.”

A tremor raced through Noah, and the bartender took a step closer. “I like that… show and tell.”

The man closed the gap, stopping inches from him. The look in his eye only caused Noah’s knees to weaken.

“You never told me your name,” Noah said. “I’m—Chris—by the way.”

“Well,Chris… why don’t you keep calling me daddy?”

Noah smiled. “I think you like that more than you realize.”

“Maybe.” His daddy appeared pleased. “I recall you wanted to come,” the man said, trailing his fingertips down Noah’s chest and abs. “How about we get down to the business of making that happen?”

“Uh-huh,” Noah whispered, the ability to speak leaving him for a moment. He pulled his hoodie from around his waist and tossed it over the armchair. God knew where his shirt was. He didn’t care.

The back of his head was captured. Drawn into a kiss, he surrendered to the potency that followed. He pressed his palms against his daddy’s chest. The soft hairs that whispered over the man’s pecs tickled his hands—until he reached those hard, little metal balls. Trailing his hands lower, he traced the ridges of muscle and sinew that flexed under his fingers.

Daddy’s hands kneaded him all over, also working lower. At the same moment, they both reached the other’s hard cock and stroked the lengths covered by denim and leather. Noah whimpered against his daddy’s lips. Nimble fingers unfastened his button and undid his zipper, tucking it down far enough to let his lace-covered cock free a bit. When the man’s hand covered his length again, he hissed as if in pain and stepped back.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asked, confused.

His bartender grabbed the desk light and tilted it. The illumination formed a spotlight on Noah’s groin. “What. Are. These?” He walked closer and tugged at the red lace.

“Leather isn’t my thing,” he said, stiffening and awaiting the criticism to come. “I prefer lace.”

His daddy growled low in his chest.“Damn…those are sexy as hell.” He lifted his gaze and met Noah’s. “Reallyfucking sexy.”

Noah took a relieved breath. “I think so, too.”

The guy tugged Noah’s pants down, exposing the manties fully. “Turn around for me,” his daddy whispered hotly.

Noah leisurely spun, enjoying being watched so intently. His daddy kneaded his nearly-bare cheeks before tugging the thin strip of material between them. He massaged Noah’s cock through the lace once the circle was complete.

“You wear them well,” the bartender growled.

Noah held his daddy’s stare, the longing only growing deeper. The guy spun Noah again. When a rough hand came down over one cheek, Noah groaned.

“Like that, hmm?”

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