Page 59 of Daddy's Muse
“You’re beautiful,” I told him, and I meant it. Maybe not in the way the world would define it, but in a way that made my chest ache and my grip tighten. “So damn beautiful.”
His brow furrowed, like I’d just said something absurd. “No, I’m not…”
The words were quiet, almost ashamed. I could see him slipping back into old beliefs—what years of being overlooked and unwanted had taught him.
It made something primal in me bristle.
“Yes, you are,” I said, firmer this time, one hand sliding up his back to cradle the base of his neck. “Every inch of you. I’ve never seen someone so… so enchanting.”
Colby’s eyes shimmered, and before I could say another word, tears spilled down his cheeks. My thumb caught one, warm against my skin. He tried to look away, but I tilted his chin back toward me.
“Du er fantastisk,” I murmured. “Stunning.”
The sight of him like this—flushed from my attention, trembling on my lap, tears making his freckles stand out stark against alabaster skin—was devastating in its beauty. Fragile, yes, but not in a way that begged for distance. It made me want to draw him closer, keep him where no one else could touch, could harm, could take this from me.
“You cry so pretty,” I said softly, the words slipping out like a confession. “Like every drop is just for me. Will you cry more for Pappa?”
He let out a shuddery breath, and I held him there, letting him feel the weight of my gaze until he looked back at me again. And when he did, when I saw trust and want and fear all tangled in those wet eyes, I lost control.
In a fit of lust, of pure carnal need, I swayed forward, sucking one of his delectable-looking nipples into my mouth. He gasped, body jolting, as I pulled the sensitive nub with my teeth, lathing over it with my tongue.
With my left hand, I plucked his other nipple, earning another sharp gasp.
“P-Pappa,” he cried, his back arching.
Abandoning his now glistening peak, I sucked biting kisses across his chest, my cock growing stiffer with each little sound falling from his lips.
As I reached his collarbone, Colby wrapped his arms around my neck, his hands bunching the back of my shirt.
I continued my path up his neck, sucking a particularly bruising kiss at his pulse point. Upon reaching his lips, Colby surged forward to press our mouths together, conveying his innocent desperation through the sheer force of it.
My tongue licked across the seam of his lips, slipping into his mouth when he let out a small moan.
There was no fight for dominance, no question at all about who was in charge.
No, he yielded to me, letting me fuck my tongue into his mouth with reckless abandon.
When I pulled back, Colby gulped for air, his face already looking completely fucked-out. His lips were swollen, his eyes glossy, his cheeks red. He panted for breath, never breaking our eye contact.
“Can Pappa play a little more?” I asked, my voice rough.
Colby whined sweetly, “Please, Pappa.”
I flipped him onto his back on the couch and tugged his pants off. His cock was hard, the head flushed dark pink and dripping.
Colby’s trembling pulled me from the intoxicating sight.
“Baby, you’re shaking,” I said. “Is this still okay?”
Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as he squirmed underneath me. “Yes, Pappa. Please… please don’t stop,” he moaned.
“Are you sure, lille prinsen? I don’t want to hurt you.”
He whined pitifully, cock twitching. “No, it’s not—I don’t want to stop…”
“Then why do you look so scared?” I asked.
Colby squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I’m close… that’s why…”
