Page 30 of Surrender

I feel him tense, but I wait patiently for his response.

I don’t expect Fox to drop the remote and scoot closer to me, and it’s my turn to tense. He runs a hand along my jaw, using his thumb to disrupt the bristles of my beard, before he leans in closer to kiss me.

“You could fuck me now,” Fox says quietly. “I’ll ride you, Daddy. No need to worry about hurting my back. I really want to feel your thick cock split me open.”

“Do you really think that’s going to work?” I press our lips together anyway, stroking his cheek. He’d said he didn’t want to have to go back to Corbin. As long as he’s laying low—as long as he’s having to hide out here—he doesn’t have to go back. Does he even want to figure out who tried to kill us?

Fox opens his mouth for me and climbs onto my lap, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. It would be so easy to give into this, to forget my questions and just play with this beautiful boy in my arms.

But when I place my hands on his sides, I’m reminded of the state of his back and why he’s even here in the first place. I break the kiss and give him a stern glare. “No. Answer my question.”

Fox rolls his eyes and sighs. “Take a hint, Daddy. We aren’t at the sharing-social-security-numbers stage of a relationship yet.”

Yet.

The word sends a funny little tingle through me, but I ignore it. “I thought we were in the ‘figure out how to survive and find out who tried to kill us’ stage, though, which comes with its own set of uncomfortable questions, Fox.”

“Who tried to kill you. I was collateral damage.” Fox sits a bit heavier in my lap. “You want my thoughts? If it wasn’t the Russians or the Winters, you’re probably looking at someone within your own organization. The mob is rife with backstabbing traitors. It was just a matter of time before you pissed off the wrong person.”

What he says makes sense, but the problem is that I can’t figure out who I’ve pissed off that much lately. Maybe the fact that my relationship with the Russians is improving means I’m in someone’s way, though. “Is that why you work alone? No one to stab you in the back?”

“Exactly. Plus, in the event I go down in a messy explosion, nobody’s going to be around to miss me. It’s better for everyone, really.”

No, it’s not. Even I have a family—the Cresci family, maybe, but people I can count on to have my back. Unless I can’t. Unless Fox is right. Unless it wasn’t Dan responsible for the whole thing.

Fox sets his stubborn gaze on me. “Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”

I want to fuck him. I want to taste him, to feel him, but I still can’t shake the conflicting emotions about causing him to bleed without even realizing it. It’s one thing to make someone bleed—when I mean to—but it’s another entirely for it to happen because I was careless.

I’m not usually careless.

But he’s so fragile in some ways, and if I refuse to have sex with him, there’s a chance he’ll get defensive and distant again. “When your back is healed a little more,” I tell him. “In the meantime, you need to get back on your stomach and stop agitating those stitches before you tear them again.”

“Ugh.” Fox slumps forward, pressing his head against my shoulder. “Bedrest is so fucking boring. You’re the worst date ever, Daddy.”

“We aren’t even on a date,” I point out, stroking his hair again. “You can’t judge me for my dating skills right now.” Though it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that I probably am a pretty shitty date.

Fox’s fingers pull on my shirt—not trying to pull it off, but clinging to me. I don’t know what to make of it, and I awkwardly keep running my fingers through his hair. I like it, oddly, that he’s clutching me for comfort. No one runs to me to make them feel better.

Finally Fox pulls back, a strange smirk on his face. “That sounds like an invitation. I want to go to the Van Geersdorf Gallery. They have a new exhibit on modern art. Plus a high-class restaurant after that. If you treat me right, I might put out.”

I blink at him, unsure how we went from me trying to gently reject his advances to somehow having to take him on a date. “We don’t have time to go on a date,” I tell him. “After this whole fiasco… We’ll see.”

“I see.” Fox lets go of me and gets off my lap, walking toward the kitchen island. “Have fun figuring all that other stuff out on your own, then.”

I blink at him, following him into the kitchen. “Are you… blackmailing me into a date with you?” I ask, just to make sure I’m getting this right.

“Out of deference to your delicate sensibilities about my minor injuries, I’m willing to wait a few days,” Fox says, reaching up to take a cup from one of the cabinets. I wince when I see how his bandaged back bends. “But otherwise, yeah. If you want something from me, you gotta treat me right. Daddy.” He takes the cup to the fridge to fill it with water, eyeing me the entire time as the cup fills.

“Have I not been treating you right? You seemed to enjoy the way I spanked your hole,” I reply, going to him and taking the cup out of his hand. “You go sit down. Are you hungry?”

Fox groans softly. “Yeah, you did. But then you didn’t put out, and I don’t think blue-balling me counts as treating me nice.” He heads to one of the bar stools and sits down, making a show of wiggling his butt. “The bruises are even starting to fade. You barely used any force.”

“It’s never enough for the fucking masochists,” I grumble, bringing the now-full cup over to him. “But fine. I’ll take you on a date after the doctor says you’re cleared for walking around for a while. I don’t need someone calling the cops in the middle of a fucking museum.”

Fox laughs, and that sound goes straight to my fucking heart. “Thank you, Daddy,” he says, blowing a kiss at me.

Yep. Straight to my heart.

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