Page 37 of Isaiah and Jameson
He pressed Isaiah down on the bed. “That was for your family’s benefit, not mine. I would keep you naked all the time.”
“You’d get bored looking at me. I know it.”
Never.He stepped back. “Show me.”
“Jameson…” Isaiah pushed out of his shoes and stripped off his pants. It was luscious, the sight of that sweater that barely hid the curve of his ass, the rise of his prick.
“Mmmhmm. That’s just the ticket, sweet.” He loved how Isaiah refused to just spread, keeping everything tucked away.
It was a tease, a puzzle, and a wild temptation.
Jameson reached out and curled a finger in the hem of the sweater, tugging it up.
That sweet, naked cock pushed right out, like it was reaching in his hand. It had to be. Isaiah needed him, his touch.
“You make me feel…wild. Dangerous.”
“I want you to. I want you to want to rut with me, to bite and suck.”
Isaiah moaned and pushed back into his arms, Jameson’s hands slid up Isaiah’s spine, caressing the lean back. He loved that smooth skin, the way his touch brought out more groans.
“Dios…” Isaiah arched, sighed, and then melted.
“So sweet. We’re just meant for each other, love.” He rubbed that tight ass, letting Isaiah remember the beating he’d given.
“No spanking.”
“You’re not even pink anymore.”
“I said no.” Isaiah wiggled.
“No? Not even as my reward for dealing with your family?”
Oh, that idea soothed his boy, he could feel it. Jameson liked it too, but he had made a promise, and he thought Isaiah deserved a treat too. He ran one finger along that rigid dick. Isaiah whimpered softly.
“Oh please.”
“I won’t leave you wanting, love. I might make you suffer for it.” He laughed when Isaiah shook his head because those eyes were glowing bright.
Someone was so eager.
So was Jameson, come to that.
“Lay back on the bed, boy. Legs spread wide.”
Nodding, Isaiah laid back on the pillows, pushing his legs far apart.
“Good boy. Such a good boy.”
“Why does it feel so good when you say that?” Isaiah squirmed, cock bobbing.
Jameson began to disrobe. “Because you want me to do the things I do to you.”
“Should I?”
“Does it matter?” he shot back.
“No.”
