Page 63 of Pose for Me
I grab my sketch pad from where I dropped it on the dresser and flip it open to a blank page. “On the bed, baby boy. Lie on your side. One leg hitched up. Yeah, like that.”
After he’s in position, I drag his chair to the end of the bed and take a seat. From my vantage point, I can see the curve of Lane’s balls and the thin strip of cloth that disappears between the crease of his ass.
“Look at me, Lane,” I say, and he does, those light brown orbs landing on me. I can feel the heat of his gaze like a physical caress.
“Like this?” he asks huskily.
“Just like that, baby boy.”
Then I start to sketch.
It’s heady to have him to watch me as I sketch. I feel like I’m under a microscope but in a good way. Like Lane is studying me, appreciating the view as much as I am.
“Can we talk while you draw?” he asks.
I flick my eyes up to him. “Yes, we can. You okay?”
“I’m fine. How was work?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that while I was seeing patients, I was trying to figure out how to kill his parents, but he doesn’t need to know about that.
“Work was fine. A patient came in for a wire removal from a surgery I did a few weeks ago.”
“What was the surgery?”
I stop drawing and look at him. “Do you really want me to explain it to you?”
“Of course. I may not understand everything you say, but I’d like to know.”
Smiling, I describe the procedure. I don’t dumb it down, but when I say a more technical term, I tell him what the word means. He nods in understanding, but he also asks questions if he’s unsure.
I’m not sure why that fills me with contentment, but it does. My heart thumps with happiness as I finish explaining the procedure.
“That sounds interesting,” Lane says, then he shivers. “And bloody.”
“It is,” I say as I sketch lower to his belly and abs. “But it’s a very precise surgery. You can’t fuck it up or you’ll ruin someone’s face. Since we move the upper jaw, not the lower, if it’s not perfect, there’s no way to put it back to its original place.”
“Is that why you like being an oral surgeon? Because you’re a perfectionist?”
My mouth tilts into a half smile. “Yes.”
Lane adjusts his body slightly, lifting his hips in an innocent way. I can’t help but catch a better peek of his sac. My dick throbs in my pants as I let my eyes dance over him, eating him up with my gaze.
He catches me staring at him, and the little brat slowly spreads his legs, dragging his hand down his front to his cock. “Why are you looking at me like that, Daddy?”
“You know why.” I’ve never heard my voice sound this gravelly. “Now move your hand so Daddy can see.”
“Come move it for me,” he says cheekily.
Placing my sketch pad on the floor beside me, I climb onto the bed. I pull him toward me, making him giggle and try to cover himself.
I take both his hands in one of mine and thrust them over his head. Lane arches up, moaning as he gazes up at me with half-lidded eyes. “What are you going to do to me, Daddy?” he pants.
Reaching down with my free hand, I grab the edge of those panties and rip them from his body. His dick springs free, bobbing in the air. I want to suck him down, to drive him insane with my mouth, but my dick needs in him, and I can’t wait.
Kneeling over him, I reach into my pants with my free hand and pull out my cock, stroking my hard length. “Can you handle it rough?”
“Oh yes,” he breathes, arching into me again.
