Page 42 of Island Daddy

I reach for my TV remote after returning the phone to its charging cable. “That’s terrific,” I reply, lightly patting his tummy. “After a couple of episodes, I can order us room service.”

Banana Boy turns his head to meet my gaze, teeming with passion as he scoops another small portion of cum with the curl of his finger. He raises it to my chin, as if he needs permission to feed me his nectar. I lower my head to accept it. But the little bastard paints the tip of my nose instead, giggling the entire time.

“That’s not nice, little boy,” I reply with a playful groan. “Now clean it up.”

He slowly slides forward, extending his tongue. The velvety sensation is felt across the bridge of my nose. Meanwhile, his heated, slightly ammonia-like breath dances across the pores on my face. Kragen’s hand cradles the nape of my neck, as he beams with an intense stare.

“To answer your question earlier—” he pauses emphatically. “I’d love nothing more than to move down here to be your permanent Banana Boy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

KRAGEN

My Island Daddy truly is the whole package. Sex with him is more than an act. It’s an experience to be savored. Something felt with each five senses in their own unique esteem. His hands tracing my naked body sends me to absolute shivers, yet could warm me on the coldest of winter’s day in Colorado. The man’s hair always smells clean. Kind of like the crisp aroma which escapes upon first cracking a coconut.

Reid’s flesh tastes as if he bathes in pineapple juice for hours on end. That domineering, yet compassionate voice could hold my heart captive for minutes—hours—at a time. Meanwhile, there’s a certain allure which radiates from him when he smiles.

I’m one incredibly lucky boy. If it wouldn’t have been for Grindr, I might’ve only brushed shoulders with him twice. Once down in the hotel lobby. And maybe a second time in his corporate office, while on my mission to summon his world to utter ruin. There’s no way I could do that to him. Not after being granted a V.I.P. pass into his life, witnessing a certain gentle kindness beaming after each delicate heartbeat.Slow down, man. You don’t have to convince anyone but yourself. And now you get to feel this way every single day.

He lazes back into a sea of pillows, holding me up in his embrace as we continue watching random episodes of our mutually favorite show. My arousal is teeming with eagerness to go again, despite the massive climax I experienced only an hour ago. Most importantly, I’m only feeling a small amount of pain. If Daddy Reid is my very own personal brand of morphine, then I’ll accept whatever label society wants to throw my way.Consider me a fucking junkie for his love, honey badger don’t give a damn.

“It’s almost time for me to order us room service, kiddo,” he says, smoothing his palm across my exposed torso. “You must be hungry after I completely ruined those steaks.”

I nod, grabbing his wrist gently. “I would probably commit murder for bacon and sausage,” I admit, giggling because he’s unearthed my weakness of tickling.

“Murder, you don’t say?” He replies, gasping playfully. “Well hold on, little boy,” he adds emphatically. “I’ll go get my list.”

My head raises just enough to get lost in his caffeinated stare. At least something needs to keep me awake, because he’s adamant about staving off sleep until it’s safer to do so. Reid’s grin warms me all over, as a speck of admiration flashes from the center of his evolving pupils.

“I’m just kidding,” I reply earnestly. “Christ,” I add, rolling my eyes.

Reid bats his eyelashes. “I know that,” he says, pinching my side. “I pretty much become enraged if the dog dies in a movie.”

The mention of a dog makes me remember his female Newfoundland. Which means I must learn to live with her and grow out of my fear real quick. If I’m going to be moving to paradise, I wouldn’t want trouble to accompany us. To be truthful, warming up to Nani is such a small sacrifice for the abundant benefits of being Reid Fairchild’s boy.

I slap his cock with an impish smile. “Well, how about it?” I reply. “Pancakes, bacon, sausage, and I suppose if I’m gonna become a resident of this great state—” I pause for emphasis and a breath. “Then I’ll need to really get used to eating lots of pineapple.”

He nods quickly. “Yes, Sir,” he says. “You will be eating your weight in pineapples, little boy.”

Reid nestles me beside him, among my own shroud of pillows. He totters across the bedroom to the bathroom while my attention returns to this episode of Schitt’s Creek. David and Stevie are using wine variations as innuendos for his sexual palate. Sometimes he likes this, and others he’s been known to sip on such and such. Throwing in the occasional Rosé here or there.Okay David, we get it. You like all people.

The whistling to swim from Reid’s bathroom sounds like some type of Vivaldi composition. That flavor of elevator music heard when put on hold at the doctor’s office. Or in my case, when my boss’s secretary puts me in an endless queue to speak with him, forcing me to endure ten painstaking minutes of it before he picks up. Not anymore, however. I’m officially quitting The Patriot’s Examiner. Furthermore, I’m going to stress that he give up the fucking ghost. If Allen reassigns somebody to my assignment, Daddy will have his legal team all over the paper’s central office like bloodhounds on a home invader.

“Okay, my boy,” Reid blurts, shuffling from the bathroom. “Your Royal Highness needs fed.”

I stifle a deep yawn. “And a small nap after?”

He clicks his tongue, all the while shaking his pretty head. “Nope, nope, nope,” he replies. “Not yet, mister,” he adds, tapping buttons on his phone screen whilst joining me on the bed.

Daddy seems to think I’ll fall asleep and never wake up. Save for a little pain, I feel fine. But if I’m to become his permanent boy, I must obey him. My skin doesn’t wanna feel the effects of melted candlewax a second time. Not too soon, anyway.

My fingertips glide through his short, stubbly beard hairs. “Okay then,” I reply, yawning again. “If you expect me to stay awake today, you’re gonna have to keep me quite busy.”

He finishes submitting what I assume is our breakfast order, before tossing his device onto the bed between our legs. “Well,” he starts, combing my hair with his lithe digits. “My plans are breakfast, showering that adorable and plump tushy of yours,” he adds with a wink. “Then I’m getting you the newest iPhone model, so you have what I do,” he draws a quick breath. “Then clothes shopping,” he adds, furrowing both eyebrows. “And—”

I interject. “Instead of clothes, can I have an Apple Watch?” I beg, as if I’m his little kid in a grocery store pleading for brand name cereal.

Reid’s stare narrows intently. “How about both?” He suggests, pinching my chin. “You’re basically a Fairchild now,” he adds, appearing to have enjoyed assuming that I’ll share his name someday.

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