Page 32 of Isaiah and Jameson
“Well, then. Nothing suits, hmm?” He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed.
“You’re not allowed here. You know that, right? Not. Allowed!”
“Are you shouting at me?” He kept his voice calm, curious.
“Yes? I’m the head of this family. I’m allowed to shout.”
“You are.” He waited. Isaiah would come to him. Would ask for what he needed.
“Okay then.” Isaiah met his eyes, sighed. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you. You look very tasty.” He let his gaze wander.
The room was insane. Clothes were strewn everywhere, the mirror broken, his boy in nothing but a thin robe. Lord. Jameson gave up waiting. This was an emergency. Time to hunt.
“I’m choosing an outfit. You should go and let me dress.” Isaiah vibrated for him.
“We have far too long for that.” He glided across the room.
“Go on. Shoo.”
Shoo. Oh God, he wanted to laugh. He didn’t. “No, love. No shoo. I want to give you something to wear under your party kit.”
“I—” Isaiah need flowed to him, those eyes wide and shining. “You can’t…”
“Shhh.” He reached up to press his fingers to Isaiah’s lips. “Arguing just wastes time you could be over my lap.”
He worked the tie to Isaiah’s robe open. He’d use it to protect his suit. The robe, not the tie. The tie he would use to bind his boy’s hands.
He slowly backed toward the fancy chaise in Isaiah’s dressing room, and his beloved boy followed with nothing more than the gentle tugging on the robe.
Come, sweet. I can make it better.He wanted to be toppy, but he always wanted Isaiah to know he would never do anything Isaiah didn’t want.
I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m so nervous.
That’s why I’m here.He sat on that bench, then drew Isaiah across his lap face down. “Hands behind your head.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Fight all you need to.” How lovely. He was so very lucky.
“I— No!” Isaiah did fight him when he grabbed one hand, then looped the tie around the wrist. Not hard, but enough he could say he tried.
That long cock was rigid against him, though. So perfect.
“Sweet boy. Let your fear out. I have you.”
“No.” Isaiah kicked and roared. “I’m not afraid. I’m strong!”
Good man. “You are. Strong. Brave. Mine.”
“Yes!” Isaiah presented his other hand.
Love. So amazing. Mine. So proud.
Isaiah’s flush was bright, red, making him glow. It worked down his neck and back, and Jameson could see it on his asscheeks too.
“Relax, love. Let me give you something to wear.” He finished tying those hands, loving the long, lean line of Isaiah’s spine. That tight ass was round, firm, just waiting for him.
