Chapter Eight

Jiron moved slowly, as if frightened of scaring me, and I watched as he reached out a huge, quivering hand towards me.

I wondered what part of my body he'd touch first. My cock? My ass? My chest? It was all laid bare to him, his for the taking, and I held myself still despite feeling breathless with anticipation.

Only to yelp as he lifted me effortlessly at the waist and deposited me into his lap.

"Is that okay?" he asked, his face crinkling in concern. When I nodded fervently – anything this man did was okay – he wrapped those huge arms around me once more.

This was even better than it had been at the tap: Jiron wasn't just behind, but all around me, muttering sweet words against my temple and petting my hair and stroking my back. All the tension seemed to drain out of him, the stiff posture I'd thought permanent melting away as he tucked me in tighter against his broad chest and began to gently rock us both.

Oh mierda , that was nice. More than nice.

Yet I felt acutely aware of how underdressed I was when I realised my cock was leaking pre-cum onto the front of his shirt.

I winced. The man was lonely and seemingly just wanted company, and I'd gone and acted like a complete whore. It was hugs he craved, not sex.

But when I tried to pull away to save his clothes and reach for my own, Jiron gave a hum of displeasure and settled me closer.

"Where are you going, little one?" he murmured, grazing his fingertips up my bare leg.

I opened my mouth to apologise for my forwardness, for misunderstanding this all so badly, when he stole all breath from my lungs by dancing those same deft fingers along my cock.

Life surged into it with blistering speed and I gasped, jerking in his arms. Yet Jiron held firm, and while his grip on me was gentle, it was unyielding, promising safety and security and care .

"Nowhere," I whispered, the two syllables achingly hard to get out.

Almost as aching and hard as my cock, which was now cradled in his hand as he began to play with it. It looked tiny against his huge fingers, and maybe there was something wrong with me for finding that an incredible turn on, but I'd always been attracted to men so much bigger than myself.

Back when Macario and I had still been a thing – back before I came home from work and found him balls deep in the baker's son – I used to love how he could throw me over his shoulder and toss me down onto the bed. I hadn't enjoyed the roughness that accompanied it, but the feeling of being a toy in someone else's hands, so small that they could manoeuvre and carry me as if all my weight and strength meant nothing?

That was fucking hot.

Jiron paused from where he was stroking me so deliciously to hardness, nuzzling his face into my hair. His other hand rested on my waist: holding me in place, but not holding me down , and the difference between the two felt huge, especially when I shifted on his lap and he moved with me instead of restricting me. The brush of rough fabric against my ass made me shiver in delight despite the warm sunlight beating down on us.

"Where do you want to be, Wyatt?"

The words were careful, cautious, as if my giant feared he was somehow taking liberties despite me offering my body up to him . Sadness shot through me at the realisation that he didn't trust himself, that he was terrified of his own strength, that he questioned what was given to him in case he'd inadvertently taken something he wasn't supposed to have.

"Here, Jiron," I whispered, snuggling up against his chest and letting out a happy sigh when he began to fondle me once more. "Just here, daddy."

Jiron stiffened, growling against the side of my head. The noise sent pleasant tremors down my spine.

" Wyatt ," he breathed, and I knew I'd gotten it right when the hand on my cock sped up, the other ghosting over my ass to finger the line between my cheeks.

"Yes, fuck," I gasped. "Me, I mean. Fuck me?"

Jiron chuckled, and yet frustratingly when I tried to wriggle back onto his fingers, he drew them away.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked, and I blinked, thrown by the change in subject.

"Answer me, little one," he coaxed, nudging my knee.

"No, daddy," I said. "I was late for work, so I skipped breakfast."

He frowned and clicked his tongue. "You're not to do that again."

I nodded. Anything for him.

"Breakfast is important," Jiron continued in that low, even voice of his that I could listen to forever. "You won't skip it even if you're late."

That could be problematic. "But Zovisasha will-"

"Hush," he murmured, running his fingers over my lips. It was the hand he'd had on my cock, and I eagerly lapped at the pre-cum coating his fingertips, enjoying the way that made him groan and shift his hips beneath me. "If you're late, you come and find me, and I'll explain it to your mistress. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, daddy," I agreed, although a part of me wanted to point out that if he was in my bed each morning, I wouldn't have to bother finding him. "Now will you fuck me?"

"No."

*