19. Cameron

The ride home was quiet but thick with a sexual tension that permeated every sigh, every breath, every quick response to inane questions asked in our attempts to quell our nerves. I was glad Sam had thought to put my address in his phone's map and let it guide him back to my house. I couldn't have told him where to go on a good day, and my brain was not exactly at its most brilliant at the moment.

How could this man, my dream Daddy, possibly want me this much? How could he be so perfect for me?

The drive was simultaneously over too quickly and not quickly enough, and soon Sam was pulling into my gravel drive. Once he stopped, he sent a quick text to Alex to tell him he'd left then peered through the windshield. "Wow, Cameron, your house is adorable."

I beamed with pride as we both stepped out of his vehicle and took in the one-story single-family home lit only by my porch light. "Thanks." It looked even better in the daylight, but he could see that tomorrow. Now that we were on solid ground once again, I needed to get him naked. Right the fuck now.

We scrambled inside, my hands shaking as I unlocked the front door, then he pushed me up against it after it closed, his hands resting on the wood, his arms caging me in.

"Cameron, look at me." The confident dominance in his voice and the low command in his words made my knees weak. I couldn't resist. I didn't want to.

His eyes bored into mine when I found his gaze. His pupils were wide, the black all but consuming his brown irises, and a shudder ran down my spine. Could I come just from this man staring me down? Right now, my dick was saying yes.

"Do you want this?"

Why wasn't there any air in this room? I couldn't catch my breath under this man's piercing gaze. But I forced an inhale, begging my lungs to work. When they did, I breathed out a single word, "Yes."

He lunged toward me as if he were a parched man dying in the desert, wrapping his strong arms around my torso and pulling my lips to his.

Oh god.

This man kissed like he was starving for it, and I was mixing metaphors, but I didn't fucking care with his lips on mine. When we broke apart for air, Sam pulled me behind him, dragging me through my open living room toward the only hallway and into my room like he owned the place. I nearly had to run to keep up—the couple of inches he had on me had to be in his legs because his stride was hard to match—but it only served to amp up my desire for him, for this. I'd wanted him since I'd laid eyes on him, and now I would have that chance.

My lust-addled mind couldn't figure out how he knew where everything was, but once we were inside my bedroom, he turned and leered at me. "I like the house, Cameron. Easy to find your bedroom, at least."

At that, all my notions of him being a stalker flew out the window.

Sam was no stalker. He was my Daddy.

And he was here, in my bedroom, ready to make love to me. In person, this time. For real. I'd be able to feel his touch on my skin, caress his body as he made me feel things I suspected I'd never feel with anyone else. Things I couldn't have felt with anyone else because they weren't him.

God, I couldn't wait.

He pushed me back on the bed with his hands on my shoulders, and I moaned against his mouth. The kiss deepened, and his tongue pressed against my lips, requesting—no, demanding—entrance. I opened for him. His tongue instantly shoved inside, finding mine and teasing it relentlessly. And god, I felt those butterflies in my stomach again. I never knew simple kissing could be this good.

We broke apart to catch our breath, chests heaving in unison, and I used the opportunity to scoot up the bed on my elbows. He followed me with a mischievous grin, resting the length of his body against mine when I came to settle with my head on my pillow. "This okay, Cameron? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

I shook my head. "No. But I don't mind a little pain."

Sam's eyes flashed again, and I loved to see the lust that shot through them. This man wanted me. And, to my utter delight, I knew he wanted to hurt me a little, too.

He reached under my tight shirt with a little effort, feeling for my nipple. It had hardened in the cool night air, so it didn't take long for it to distend again—especially when he found it and pinched. Hard.

I moaned long and loud—I couldn't help it.

When he twisted my nipple with a sadistic grin, I cried out and started begging. "Oh, Sam, please."

He moved down my torso, resting on his heels so his hands were free to lift my shirt to my neck. "What do you want, baby? More?"

"Yes, please."

"So polite for me." With that, he took both nipples between his fingers and twisted. I screamed, my dick jolting in my pants.

"Holy fucking shit," I panted, trying to catch my breath. But before I could, he pinched, pulled, and twisted again. "Sam!"

That fucking grin was all I was living for at the moment. That and me willing him silently to never stop. To give me even more.

"You like that, baby? You love the pain, don't you?"

"Oh god!" I cried. "Yes! I need more, Sam, I need so much more."

He released my nipples, and I was both relieved and disappointed. But then he yanked my shirt over my head, pulling it all the way off and tossing it across the room. I heated up once again. This man knew how to take control, and I was here for it.

He leaned in to kiss my neck, my poor abused nipples sensitive where his glittery shirt dragged against them. The feeling intensified when he licked along my collarbone, when he dragged his lips to one nipple then the other, when he bit at them before he moved on. When he pressed gentle kisses along each scar beneath.

God, the tender way this man cared for me was unmatched. How could I have gotten so lucky just to be here in this moment with him?

"Sam," I breathed as his lips trailed down my stomach to my waist. After pressing a final kiss just above the button, he sat up and pulled at my jeans.

"Are these coming off?"

I nodded quickly, not wanting to give him a chance to reconsider. "Have fun—they're painted on."

He smirked, clearly up to the challenge. He yanked and pulled, getting them off in record time although we'd both dissolved into laughter by that point. "These are sexy," he started as he tossed them to the floor, "but maybe next time we consider clothing that's easier to get off."

"Next time?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Because once I've had you, I'm not letting you go."

I moaned at the pet name, at all of it, unashamed of letting him see how much I wanted him. And then I hardcore swooned at the words that followed.

I just needed him to hurry up.

But instead, he gazed at the tight boxer briefs I wore. They were red with tiny rainbows printed all over. They weren't my sexiest—I hadn't planned on getting laid tonight, after all—but they did hold my packer well. And they made my ass look amazing.

"Would you like to turn over for me?"

I blinked up at Sam, who was sitting on his heels between my legs. "What for?"

He shrugged as if his next words were inconsequential, but his voice betrayed his forced nonchalance. "So we can have our own demonstration."

"What?" I whispered, scared I'd heard him wrong. Scared I'd heard him right.

His evil grin got me hotter. "I think you heard me." He reached underneath me to cup my ass. "I was watching you as you watched that Master and his sub on that stage. You were so turned on by them. I wonder . . . Did you want to be the Master—or the sub?"

I sucked in a breath, knowing there was only one answer I could truthfully give him. It was time to put it all out there. "Neither."

His raised eyebrows said he didn't believe me. "Don't lie to me, Cameron."

Oh god, that deep voice commanding me . . . "I'm not lying. I didn't want to be the Master or the sub. I just wanted it to be me."

"Wanted what to be you?"

"I wanted to be on that bench. But I didn't want Zander." I took a breath, steeling myself for his reaction. I wasn't brave enough to do more than whisper the last part. "I wanted it to be you."

"Fuck," he breathed, reaching around my waist and flipping me over. His hands instantly started caressing my clothed ass, heating me up. "Are you sure you want this?"

I groaned as my packer rubbed against the mattress, caressing my dick. "Yes, Daddy."

His breath caught before he growled. "Say it again."

"What, Daddy?" I fluttered my eyelashes so prettily.

"You know what. Maybe I should give you extra swats for talking back."

"Oh god." I moaned.

He tapped my ass lightly, not nearly enough. I moved into his hand, silently pleading for more. At the movement, he spanked me again, this time with more bite to it. I moaned louder.

"You like that, Cameron?"

I nodded against the pillow, and I heard him chuckle.

"Kinda thought you did. Stoplights still good with you?"

My mind instantly flew to Daddy, to S.M.C., to our first encounter. The way he commanded me, even just online . . .

A smack to my ass brought me back. "Where'd you go, boy?"

I wiggled under him at the endearment and the heat blooming in my left cheek. "Well, I definitely like when you call me that. And I'm okay, just an errant thought."

He went back to caressing my ass again, warming it up, prepping it for something more intense. "Then maybe you need this spanking to help you focus."

"Oh god, yes, Daddy."

He pinched my cheeks through the cloth still covering them, and I whimpered.

"You didn't answer me before: Stoplights still okay?"

I nodded, moaning as he tapped my ass again, still warming it up. "Yes, Daddy."

I could hear his smirk in his response. "Good." His caresses turned gentle, and when they didn't shift after several moments, I looked up at him.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

I twisted my head enough to see his response. Time to move this along. "Can we take them down? I want to feel your hand against my bare skin."

"Hmm . . ." I suspected he was deliberately making me wait for an answer. But then it came. "Nope, not yet."

His hands massaged my covered cheeks for a few more glorious moments, and it almost made up for him making me wait. But then he stopped.

I froze, fighting against the urge to squirm again, wondering what he was up to. But just as I was about to open my mouth to ask, his growly command ignited my entire body.

"Stand up."

I pushed to sitting then scrambled to my feet without a word, wanting to ask why but sensing he would show me soon enough. Whatever he had planned, I was one-hundred-percent on board.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, as I stood in front of him in my underwear. His scrutinizing stare had me fidgeting until I finally clasped my hands in front of my crotch.

Sam raised his eyebrows at that but stayed infuriatingly silent.

Finally, I couldn't take any more of the quiet. My hands flew to my sides, up in the air. "Okay, so I'm up. Are we going to do something already?"

He smirked, scrubbing his jaw as a truncated laugh bubbled out of him. "You struggle with patience, don't you, boy?"

I huffed loudly, crossing my arms. I was starting to get cold despite the heat in his eyes. "Of course I'm impatient! It was just getting good, and then you stopped."

Sam kept staring, shaking his head. "Trust me, this will be even better."

I glared at him. "I'll believe that when I see it."

The smirk on his face vanished at that, but his eyes turned to molten fire. He liked when I pushed back. Noted. "You may not want to test me, boy. Sounds like you're angling for a punishment."

I cocked my hip, delighting in the way his eyes fell to my waist. I glanced away as casually as I could manage. "I don't think you could."

He growled, which had me whipping my eyes back to his. "Boy, I absolutely am going to punish you for that."

The way he bit his lip had me fighting back a moan. I wanted to lick the marks his teeth had left.

He kept going. "So the reason I had you stand up—besides the obvious, which is so I could get a good look at your unbelievably sexy body; I mean, goddamn, man—was that it wasn't just the spanking itself that turned you on."

My cheeks heated as I stared at him. "No?" I choked out.

He shook his head, his smirk returning. "Not by itself. You told me before that humiliation turned you on. And you got that tonight in spades."

I schooled my features. "What makes you say that?"

"You deny it?"

I hesitated then slowly shook my head.

"What did you find so humiliating about it?"

I took a shaky breath before letting it all rush out. "That Zander punished Joey for not following instructions. That he had to strip in front of all of us when his Master stayed fully clothed. That . . ." I trailed off.

"Finish."

His one-word command made me squeeze my legs together to give my dick some relief. It didn't work. "That he had to confess what he'd done in front of the whole room. That he had to tell everyone what his punishments were and why, in great detail. The humiliation of being spread on that spanking bench, his bare ass out for everyone to watch while Zander gave him his punishment. Fucking hell—it was so hot."

By the end of my impromptu speech, Sam was nodding. "Extremely." He extended his hands toward me, and I took a step forward so he could rest them on my hips. My skin burned where he touched me. "You want to know my favorite parts?"

I swallowed hard, nodding. My voice had taken a vacation somewhere.

"The crack of his hand and the paddle against his bare ass. The way it shook and bloomed red with every swat. The cries he pulled from his sub while he was still begging for more. How well he hurt for his Master."

I whimpered—I couldn't help it. I wanted all of that.

"Would you like to hurt for me, Cameron? Would you like me to darken that ass until you can't sit for a week, either? Would you like me to pull those pants down around your thighs and put you over my knee like the naughty boy I know you are? Would you like to be punished?"

I moaned and started begging. "Please, Daddy, I want that so badly."

He quirked his eyebrows, and I almost came from that alone. That just kept happening, dammit. "Good." With a show of strength that set my whole body on fire, he pulled me down over his lap in a move so fluid I missed how I got from standing to laid out over his strong thighs, head down, close to the ground, my ass in perfect striking range. "Because I want that, too."

His hand started rubbing my ass again, but soon he was hooking his fingers under the waistband of my boxer briefs and inching them down. I shouldn't have shown him how impatient I was when it came to sex. I had a feeling I'd be begging for it before long.

As soon as he had the band down to mid-thigh—he'd been so careful and respectful removing my packer from the front of my boxers and setting it on the nightstand that I'd almost cried—he stopped. I felt the air rush from his lungs and skate across my bare skin.

"Cameron, your ass is gorgeous." My cheeks heated at his praise. "I'm going to enjoy painting it red very much."

"Shit," I cursed, which simply drew a laugh out of him as he resumed rubbing my ass. He dug in, treating it almost like a massage, and I settled into the feeling. That felt so good.

Then, without warning, the first blow fell.

"Fuck!" I yelled. That smack stung, and I was sure he'd left a handprint. This was my first time getting my ass spanked for real, and I hadn't been sure how I'd feel about it, I'd just known that I wanted to try it.

It fucking burned. But I was into it. So fucking into it.

Then another fell against my other cheek.

I sucked in a breath. "Damn! Have you done this before?"

His hand paused in midair—I could feel the whoosh but never felt it connect with my ass cheeks. "No. Why? Am I doing it wrong?"

"Oh, fuck no. You're doing it perfectly right. Holy shit, Sam—you're a natural at this. Keep going, please." I relaxed my body completely, sinking into the pain, offering him my full submission. "Please, Daddy. Spank me again."