Page 72 of The Twins

“I need help,” I blurt out. My lips part as if I want to add to my statement, but no words come out. I feel the heat in my ears, reddening me all over.

Mr. David doesn’t say a word. Our eyes connect. I can’t look away. “I need help. I need your help. I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend forever. I don’t know what that entails. I’m not well. I-I have problems. My self-esteem is shit. I want to be yours, but I’m not enough for you. I’m an immature coward.”

Andre listens carefully, never wavering from me.

“I want to be your good boy,” I tell him, my blushing cheeks embarrassing the fuck out of me.

“You already are,” he says in a soul-clenching voice that sends shivers down my spine.

I insist, “No. I want to be your good boy. Nobody else’s. Yours.”

When Mr. David remains silent, I take another step in his direction. “Can I touch you?”

“You never have to ask.”

All right. I take his words with a nod, and I approach the wooden desk he sits behind. I take a seat on it, facing Mr. David, who’s on my right.

“You wanted to touch me,” he reminds me, and I bite my lip.

“I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be.” When he says it, I’m tempted to believe it.

“Can… Can I hold your hand?” I ask, knowing that we’re slow-burning the fuck out of each other. I’m hard. I’ve been hard all night, and I’ve adjusted myself more often than I can count. I didn’t want to embarrass Mr. David in front of his friends.

If I’m not mistaken, he sees my reaction to him, and he’s reciprocating it. But he sits on his throne, the desk he makes millions at. His legs are spread, and his back connects with the chair he occupies. He’s without a worry in the world.

Mr. David offers me his hand, and I grab it. I’ve held it before. That much we’ve done.

“When I called you Daddy, it was… Real. I meant it,” I confess.

“I know.”

“That’s why you retreated whenever I said it? Your mood soured whenever I pretended to say it as a joke,” I tell him, intertwining our hands. My fingers are skinnier than his, but he’s not the one coming out of a malnourishment phase. Vegas and Mr. David have made sure I start eating properly again. Since I’m still growing into my body, late bloomer and all, my body changes quite often.

Not often enough.

“I want to be your daddy because you’re a good boy. You can be my good boy,” Andre says. No smirk. No amusement. The tone he uses is demanding attention, and I can’t resist. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and I grab the bull by its horns. I shift closer to him, and he rolls his chair back.

Once I’m settled in front of him, Mr. David rolls forward, his hands land on my thighs.

“You pretended,” Mr. David says. “That hurts. You’re half my age, Remo. Being your daddy almost feels like impiety. It’s wrong.”

“You see my parents when you see me?” I ask, swallowing hard. He was their friend first before he became my all.

Mr. David comes closer. “I don’t. I never did. I see you, Remo. Even when I shouldn’t have. All I saw was you. It’s terrifying.”

I can’t catch my breath with how his hands are massaging my thighs. His moves are vibrant in their leisure. He continues, “You’re an innocent boy.”

“I am. What is there to do?” I heave. The doubts sink in. They torment me. I had an epiphany earlier today. I’m a miracle baby. I won’t let doubts affect me.

Easier said than done.

“I take your innocence,” Mr. David says. My eyes widen and my heart flutters in excitement. It’s never felt this light and careless. He can take anything he wants. My innocence, heart, and soul.

And my cock while he’s at it.

My inner ho is waiting to be unleashed.

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