Page 55 of Island Daddy

“Wait a second,” he blurts. “I remember a brief flashback of feeling intense pain in my cock,” he adds, wincing audibly. “Did we have another play session and it’s included in the series of events I’ve forgotten about?”

I shake my head, insistent on delivering him another promise. “Wedid—right before you fainted in the bathroom,” I affirm. “But you’re not in the best physical condition to be jerking your body around,” I add, lowering my head to his for a kiss. “Even though you gave me permission, I won’t ever hurt you like that again—promise.”

My Banana Boy writhes under the motion of my fingers shimmying between his shirt and bare flesh. “I have to confess something then,” he replies. “I think the article you’re about to show me is all my fault—for quitting and telling off Allen,” he adds, closing his eyes with another delightful moan. “I told him that you’d sick all of your lawyers on the paper if he pursued an exposé about Fairchild Resorts Group.”

“Fuck him, Kragen,” I reply with another hasty grunt. “None of this is your fault, you hear me?”

Kragen reaches up to my chin with another sullied look. “So if you know about my snooping, then I probably told you about the Ponzi scheme,” he says. “How the hell are you gonna stop the vote from happening?” He asks, moaning with pure delight.

My head wavers again. “It’s taken care of, little boy,” I affirm with certitude. “You don’t have to worry about my company—Daddy has everything under control.”

* * *

This afternoon hasn’t gone entirely according to plan. After a little over an hour up in the air, some kind of alarm buzzed in the cockpit. According to Konnor, after an unplanned stop at LAX, the plane isn’t safe to fly across the Pacific. And cannot be fixed in a matter of a few hours. Now Kragen and myself are sitting in The Private Suite of Lynx Airlines, awaiting to board our first class commercial flight back to Honolulu.

Our stressful afternoon has caused a bit of tension between us, as I hate to be inconvenienced like this. But the Daddy instincts within me are happy that nothing happened to my boy at forty-thousand feet. I’d sooner fly coach, clear back by the fucking lavatories, than to have Kragen experience even a scratch on his precious flesh.

A smiling flight attendant emerges from around the corner of our lounge, waving amiably in my direction. “We’re ready for you gentlemen to board, Mr. Fairchild,” she says, extending an arm to wheel Kragen’s suitcase for him.

He shoots me an uneasy look, as if this sort of royal treatment is completely foreign. “I can handle my own luggage,” he asserts. “I’m not cut off at the wrists.”

I lower his arm before fishing it through mine. “Welcome to your new life, kiddo,” I click my tongue, leaning close to the boy’s ear. “This is only a fraction of what fame and fortune brings my way,” I gently whisper, cupping an ass cheek with my palm.

The attendant escorts us through our gate, down the lengthy jetway. “Have a pleasant flight,” she says with a wave, passing us over to our first class stewardess.

“Good evening, gentlem—” her words stop short when she takes a second glance at Kragen.

“Oh my God,” Josie gasps. “Is that you, Kragen?” She asks, tilting her head with a shocked smile.

My boy nods. “Yeah, you’re Tessa’s best friend from Junior year—right?” He asks, relenting from my clutched hand to offer the girl a hug.

Her eyes liven much like an owl on alert, poking its head out of a tree hole. “I haven’t seen you in almost five years,” she replies, pointing us through the short divide which separates first class from business and coach.

Josie hoists the boy’s luggage up into an overhead bin with a brief sigh. “Well I’m gonna be serving both of your needs on this flight,” she declares. “And aren’t you quite the lucky little rascal—pampered by America’s Gay Sweetheart,” she adds, emphatically curling her eyebrows.

She’s probably seen every goddamn thing published about him these past nine days. At least the fabricated bullshit from Sploosh.Kragen joins me as I find our prime seats at the very front of the cabin. Meanwhile, every nerve begins escalating once our fellow first class passengers start boarding. Being seen together in a swish restaurant such as The Palace is hardly a worry. Until we can go public, however, traveling closely with a dozen other people, will up the ante considerably.

Kragen immerses his Air Pods until we’re advised to turn off all electronic devices. When he presses his back into the plush seat, I turn my head around to study a slender body taking a seat across the aisle. The figure looks up from his device, revealing a full view of his face. It’s none other than Shane Hansen, my mutual friend via Wade Learn.Oh shit. I totally spaced texting him back last Monday.

Shane gasps keenly. “Dude, you’re flying commercial?” He asks, appearing quite shocked.

I nod with gritted teeth. “My jet is out of commission for at least a few days,” I advise him, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m sorry for not replying to your text,” I genuinely confess. “I’ve been preoccupied with other things this week,” I add, coughing on the dry air.

He bats his eyelashes. “You mean you’ve been busy following your pecker,” he chuckles, waving his palm in my direction. “Save me the excuses, I’ve already seen those Sploosh articles.”

A grumble rustles at the back of my throat. “Those dipsticks really know how to stretch the truth, don’t they?”

Shane staunchly agrees. “They’re still haranguing me as if my mother died only last week.”

Several minutes pass us by, as the ascending vessel reaches its cruising altitude. My conversation with Shane evolved beyond small talk, onto solidifying plans to enjoy a few dinners and some clubbing. Mine and Kragen’s hands have parted many times, traveling to areas entirely inappropriate for such a public scene. Then as soon as Josie strolls up the aisle, they envelope the other in enough time so we aren’t caught.If not her prying eyes, it’d be somebody else’s.

Despite the indirect sexual tension, I can’t help but feel the awkward hesitation between him and I.He’s still upset about the articles. And he thinks this is all his fault? Poor little guy. If he only knew this is one of the hard parts of being rich and famous. Fuck. Shane Hansen would likely be the first to agree with me.My thoughts finish ruminating for the umpteenth time this weekend, when the pilot turns off the‘fasten seatbelt’sign.

No sooner does his sister’s old friend make her way back to the attendant’s quarters, when my urges kick into high gear.If we were on my own plane right now, I’d have undressed him with more than my eyes. The boy would already be panting breathlessly, all the while sprawled across the sofa like fucking Marcus Rivers.If there is any hope of recovering from a shitty turn of events, the very least I could have is my eager cock in Kragen’s mouth.

Without skipping a beat, I turn around as I leap from the oversized first class seat. And in one fell swoop, the boy’s shirt collar bunches in my fist. He springs from his seat by every ounce of the force. Kragen’s Air Pods tumble down to the cushions, while his fleshy aspect evolves from a light peach hue to that of a ripened plum.

Short, shallow grunts accompany us as I yank on his arm, making a beeline straight for a vacant lavatory by the cockpit.You’re about to join the Mile High Club, kid. Get ready for Daddy’s girthy nine inches.My boy seems to have caught wind of my ulterior motives, quickly stepping inside before I join him. Exactly one moment and a lock clicking later, and these shorts are already down around my ankles.

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