Page 115 of Naughty Dreams
“Oneof Warren’s women?”
“They’re legion. And they all know about each other.” A pussy hound yes, but always an honest one.
“It’s got to be the Sam Elliott voice thing. They just fall into bed with him.” DJ reached out to do a quick stroke of the longer strands of hair feathered across Roy’s forehead. “I figured you went to one of those old-timey barbers.”
“Well, I had a team of stylists and makeup artists like you do, but they got so damn cranky about all the travel.”
“I’ll bet.” DJ lifted the clippers. “Will you cut my hair off?”
Roy blinked. “Say what?”
“A buzz cut. No curls.” The hat Roy had picked up yesterday sat on the counter, and DJ nodded to it. “I assume that’s for me. This and cheaper sunglasses will make it a better disguise. I canprobably do it myself if you show me, but they’re your clippers and I’d like you to do it. Will you?”
“The hair’s part of your brand.”
DJ snorted. “If my fans can’t handle a different look, my songs aren’t really worth shit, are they?”
He offered Roy the clippers again. When he took them, he turned toward the mirror, gazing at Roy in the reflection.
“What will I tug on when you’re taking my cock in your mouth?” Roy asked.
DJ’s gaze darkened. “If you wanted to make me rethink my decision, you just found a damn good way to do it.”
But as much as he loved the kid’s hair, Roy knew DJ had found a solution to the concern about him being recognized and captured on someone’s cell phone for a social media shot. So Roy would adapt.
“I guess I’ll just wrap my fingers around the back of your neck, here,” he slid his grip to DJ’s nape and caressed the occipital bone, “and push you down on me harder that way.”
“Okay, that works.” DJ cleared a thick throat.
Roy used his knuckle to tip his chin up. “Go get the desk chair and bring it in here. It’ll work better if you sit down.”
DJ obeyed. Roy enjoyed watching the tight ass shifting under the pajama bottoms as he crossed the room, the bare back and wide shoulders. Strong, but vulnerable. To him, the Master that Dory was trusting.
When DJ brought the chair back and sat down, knees parted, he was facing Roy, not the mirror. His gaze was on Roy’s bare chest and the waistband of the cotton sleep shorts. “Can I put my hands on you, Sir?”
The clear shift back into Dom and sub mode had a noticeable effect on what was not far from DJ’s tempting mouth. Roy wondered if the kid had done it on purpose, or if he just needed to touch his Master. Maybe both.
“On my hips, yes. Start moving them around and I’ll take off an eyebrow.”
DJ snorted, but he wrapped his fingers over Roy’s hips. The pressure pushed the waistband down enough he was touching flesh. He sent Roy an innocent look, and Roy pressed his lips against a smile.
It was just hair, and it would grow back. But it was more difficult than expected, shaving all those curls off. As they tumbled to the floor, Roy focused on doing the buzz cut evenly, changing out the guard to cut out the ears, folding them forward. He removed the guard to clean up the neck, caressing the two straight tendons with his fingers.
When he at last set the clippers aside, he ran his hand over the peach fuzz. “Look up at me, Dory.”
He was looking at the same man, but the shorn scalp emphasized the pain and grief in his face. The protectiveness Roy always felt around DJ, had felt since day one, surged. He wanted to lock DJ in a secure place and keep him there until he found this asshole.
And he didn’t want the stalker in jail. He wanted to put him down like a rabid animal. Except Roy wouldn’t be doing it as an act of mercy.
He reined it all back. DJ needed something different from him right now. Those sensitive hands were flexing on Roy’s hips, wanting to move. Stepping back, Roy arrested the flash of disappointment on DJ’s face by retrieving a pillow from the bed and dropping it on the floor between them.
“Take off the pajama bottoms. I want you naked as the day you were born. Get on your knees in front of me, put your hands on your head, fingers laced. Back straight and chin up.”
DJ’s lips parted, tongue wetting them, and he complied, setting the flannel aside before he dropped to the cushion. Roy ran his hand over the shorn scalp again. He spent time teasingthe occipital bone, teaching DJ how responsive that area could be. He traced his lips, his eyebrows, his cheek. “You’re going to please me with your mouth, Dory. Will being allowed to serve me give you pleasure?”
DJ’s gaze rose, brown eyes kindled with fire. Though it wasn’t the first time he’d had his mouth on Roy’s cock, trust and value needed continual reinforcement in a power exchange. Roy would never use the power DJ gave him to demean him, or cause him harm. He would always remind DJ, in whatever way it presented itself, that his Master cherished him.
“Yes,” DJ said huskily. “I really want to do that, Roy. I need…to do that.”
