Chapter 9

9

ELLERY

T he snow that had started drifting down as Boaz and I drove back from the Winter Festival was still falling the next day. It had a serene beauty, especially when watching it from the comforts of my cozy and warm cabin. The fire was crackling and Boaz and I were lounging in my living room after sleeping in, followed by a late breakfast. I was reading a book, and he was nestled against me, doing something on his iPad.

He had trouble sitting still, which amused me. How did that kid have so much energy he was bouncing? Yet it didn’t bother me. I found it adorable.

“Hey, Ellery?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be willing to pose for me?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his request. “Pose for you?”

“Yeah. I want to draw you. Naked.”

“Naked?”

“Yeah! I mean, if you’re comfortable with it. You’ve got such an amazing form, and I’d love to capture it on paper.”

A slow grin spread across my face. How was I supposed to say no when he looked that cute? “Alright, Picasso. Where do you want me?”

Boaz jumped off the couch, making room for me. “On the couch would be perfect! And you need to undress, obviously.”

“I’m aware of what naked means, thank you,” I said dryly.

He stuck out his tongue in a childish gesture. I quirked an eyebrow. “We could make it a spanking first…”

I could see the wheels turning in his head. He had such an expressive face that showed the struggle he was experiencing. “Do you want to know what it feels like?” I asked softly.

His cheeks flushed a bright red. “Is that weird?”

“No, not at all. You have a curious nature, Boaz. And you’re intrigued by it. It’s okay to experiment.”

He bit his lip. “What if I don’t like it?”

“You tell me to stop, and I will stop.”

He cocked his head. “I thought ‘stop’ was not a smart safeword.”

“It’s not, and you’re welcome to pick something else, but for a first time, there’s nothing wrong with using ‘stop.’”

He pressed his lips together for a long time, but I was more than okay with him needing a moment to decide. This was a big thing for him, and he shouldn’t decide impulsively. In fact, if he had, I might’ve had to refuse.

“I want to try it,” he finally said, his face still beet red.

“Okay.” I tugged him closer. “Drop those pants, sweetheart. I wanna see my handprints on that pretty ass of yours.”

“O-okay.” His hands moved to his waist. “Or should I say ‘yes, Sir’ or something?”

“You can say whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He dragged his pants down, taking his underwear with him. I patted my thigh. “Drape yourself over my leg.”

He was a bit clumsy as he complied, but he didn’t hesitate, which was a good sign. “You comfortable?” I checked.

“Yeah…Sir.”

I rubbed his plump ass. It would look so goddamn pretty with my handprints on it. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna do ten slaps today, and I’m gonna need you to count them, okay?”

“O-okay.”

His body went tense. Enough dallying. I went easy on him with the first few slaps, spreading them out over both ass cheeks, which jiggled with every strike. He counted, his breath hitching with every hit.

And I had been right. Boaz’s ass looked delicious with my marks on it. If I hadn’t promised to pose for him, I’d fuck him right after, press that glowing red skin against me. But maybe that was too much for the first time.

“Eight,” he counted, sounding breathless.

I put a little more force behind the last two. “There, all done.”

Without waiting for his response, I hauled him back into a sitting position, his pants still pooled at his ankles. “How did that feel?”

His eyes were a tad glassy, his skin flushed, and he took his time answering. “Different from what I had expected.”

“In what way?”

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

“I went easy on you for your first time.”

He looked pensive. “I like how it feels now, all glowing.”

“I love how your ass cheeks look with my handprints on them.”

His face broke open in a sexy smile. “I can tell. You’re hard.”

“I like spanking…and your ass is perfect, sweetheart. You’re so sexy.”

The sass returned to his expression. “If you think you can distract me enough to get out of posing for me, you’re wrong.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He slid off my lap and pulled up his pants, then bent in and kissed me. “Thank you, El. For letting me try.”

“Anytime.”

“Now strip.”

Still smiling, I unbuttoned my flannel shirt and took it off. The casual intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on me. Just days ago, we’d been strangers. Now, here I was, stripping for his artistic pleasure.

“Actually, leave the sweatpants on, but drag them down,” Boaz instructed.

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Boaz rolled his eyes. “Duh. As if I hadn’t noticed. That’s the whole point.”

Okay, then.

Boaz’s eyes roamed over me, his gaze intense. “Could you lean back, one arm behind your head? I want your right hand around your cock, jerking yourself off. You’re hard anyway, so we might as well make good use of that.”

Damn. He wasn’t messing around. “Sure.”

I caught Boaz's appreciative gaze as I stretched out on the couch. His eyes lingered on my chest, tracing the curves of muscle and the dusting of gray hair. I flexed a little, enjoying the way his breath hitched.

“Can you turn your head a little to the left? Perfect. Just like that.”

I held the pose, watching as Boaz’s usual frenetic energy focused into intense concentration. He grabbed his iPad and the special pen and settled in the chair across from me, legs folded. His hand moved swiftly as he looked up at me, then down again at his iPad.

I held still, marveling at the change in him. This Boaz—focused, confident in his craft—was a revelation. The depth of talent hidden behind his usual hyperactive exterior stirred something in me. Pride, maybe. Or something dangerously close to affection.

As I watched him work, a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with arousal. This kid, with his motormouth and boundless enthusiasm, was working his way under my skin. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. The softness I felt watching him, the way my heart raced when he laughed—it was all too much, too fast.

This thing between us was evolving rapidly, outpacing my ability to process it. Part of me wanted to run, to protect myself from the inevitable pain when he left. In a matter of days, he’d be gone, back to his life in LA, leaving me with nothing but memories and an ache in my chest I wasn’t prepared for.

But a larger part—the part currently pinned under Boaz’s artist gaze—wanted to see where this could go, consequences be damned.

“You’re full of surprises,” I murmured, careful not to move too much.

Boaz’s eyes flicked up to mine, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh? How so?” he asked, his hand never ceasing its fluid movements.

I chuckled. “Never seen you this still before. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He grinned, the pencil flying across the page. “Art’s the only thing that can shut my brain up. Well, that and really good sex. An, apparently, a spanking. Didn’t know that a little pain could steady me, but here we are.”

My cock twitched. I had to fight the urge to break my pose and pin him to the couch. Instead, I gave my cock a tug.

“Mmm, perfect.” Boaz’s eyes darkened. “Keep doing that.”

Oh, he wanted a show? That I could do.

And so I played with myself, lazily squeezing the tip of my cock, trying to only move my hand. My eyes stayed fixed on Boaz, whose cheeks flushed, but his concentration didn’t break. My cock grew harder under his scrutinizing gaze, and I had a hard time keeping it slow. But as usual, my self-control won, and I managed to keep myself in check, even as I edged myself for what had to be close to an hour.

Time ceased to exist as my body rose higher and higher, only to be yanked back from the edge when I stopped or, if needed, gave myself a sharp pinch. I wanted to come badly, but there was no way in hell I was breaking Boaz’s concentration. That would be akin to disappointing him, and no orgasm was worth that.

“Almost done,” Boaz announced, his tongue peeking out as he added some final touches. “You’re gonna love this, I swear.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. How could I tell him that what I loved wasn’t the drawing but the artist himself? That in four short days, he’d become more important to me than anyone had been in years?

Boaz set down his pencil, a mix of pride and nervousness on his face. “Okay, it’s finished,” he said, bouncing in his seat. “Wanna see?”

I sat up, fighting the urge to bend him over the couch and allow myself to come. My whole body was hurting with the need to release. Reluctantly, I pulled up my sweats—not that they were hiding my erection, but still. No need to flaunt it. “Of course. Can’t wait.”

His eyes lit up with excitement as he flipped his iPad. “Ta-da! What do you think?”

I got up and took the iPad from him, my breath catching as I took in the drawing. “Holy shit…”

I was stunned, all thoughts of my own pleasure forgotten. The man on the paper was undeniably me, but it was like looking at myself through a filter of admiration and desire. My body had been captured in bold, confident strokes—every muscle defined, every scar lovingly detailed. I looked undeniably sexy and aroused, as if I was in the throes of ecstasy.

But it was the face that captivated me. My eyes seemed to burn with an intensity I’d never seen in the mirror, a mix of strength and vulnerability that made my chest tighten. “Is that how you see me?”

Boaz nodded, words tumbling out. “Yeah, of course! I mean, you’re so…fucking amazing, you know? Like, strong and sexy as hell, but there’s this softness too, especially when you smile. And your eyes, god, they’re like the ocean or something, all deep and mysterious and?—”

I cut him off with a kiss, unable to resist any longer. When I pulled back, his cheeks were flushed. “You’ve got a real gift, Boaz. This is incredible.”

“You like it?” he asked, still sounding a bit breathless.

I nodded, studying the drawing again. It was strange, seeing myself through Boaz’s eyes. The man on the paper looked powerful, desirable—someone worthy of the adoration I saw in Boaz’s gaze. It stirred something in me, a confidence I hadn’t felt in years.

“It’s incredible,” I said softly. “You’ve made me look…”

“Like the sexiest silver fox alive?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I was gonna say ‘better than I actually do,’ but I’ll take that too.”

Boaz’s expression turned serious. “No, that’s exactly how you look. How you are. I captured what I saw.”

The sincerity in his voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d been so caught up in our age difference, in the temporary nature of our connection, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly seen and appreciated.

“Thank you,” I said, meeting his eyes. “For seeing me like that.”

I set the iPad aside, then turned back to Boaz. Maybe I could turn my need to come into a win-win for us both. “You know, I think work this impressive deserves a reward. What do you say?”

Boaz’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah? What kind of reward did you have in mind?” He waggled his eyebrows.

See? I knew he’d catch my drift. “Depends on what you want, boy. I’m feeling generous.”

“Hmm.” Boaz tapped his chin in mock thought. “How about you let me ride that thick cock of yours until I can’t see straight?”

His directness never failed to surprise me. The boy knew what he wanted and went straight for it. Heat rushed through my body, settling low in my gut. “Jesus, Boaz. You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

He shrugged, still grinning. “Why beat around the bush? Life’s too short for that shit.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. “Alright then.” I dragged down my sweatpants, my cock slapping against my stomach, then dropped back on the couch, spreading my arms. “I’m all yours. Whatever you want, however you want it.”

Boaz’s eyes darkened with desire. I’d never seen anyone strip faster. Within seconds, he was naked and crawling onto my lap, straddling my thighs, rubbing that delicious ass against my cock. It was still glowing, and I loved the extra heat against my skin. “Really? You’re gonna let me call the shots?”

I nodded, running my hands up his sides. “You earned it. Show me what you’ve got.”

The anticipation was palpable, crackling between us like electricity. Boaz bit his lip, clearly relishing the power I’d given him. “Fuck, there’s so much I want to do to you. With you.”

I smiled, squeezing his hips. “We’ve got all day and even all night. Take your time.”

“All night, huh?” Boaz ran his fingers through my beard. “Careful what you promise, old man. I might wear you out.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

My heart raced as I stared into Boaz’s eager eyes. The weight of his body on my lap and the heat of his skin under my palms were intoxicating. I wanted nothing more than to flip him over and bury myself inside him, but I’d given him control. Now, I was at his mercy.

As Boaz leaned in to kiss me, a nagging thought wormed its way into my mind. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t a quick fuck anymore. The way Boaz looked at me, touched me, spoke of something deeper, something dangerous.

I pushed the thought aside, losing myself in the taste of Boaz’s lips, the slide of his tongue against mine. But it lingered, an unwelcome reminder of the reality waiting beyond this moment.

Boaz pulled back, panting. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Thinking about all the ways I want to make you scream my name.”

He grinned, grinding down against me. My cock, which had already been paying attention the second he’d sat on my lap, fully hardened. “Oh yeah? Care to share with the class?”

I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated. The words caught in my throat as I looked at Boaz—really looked at him. His flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, the trust and desire shining in his eyes. Christ, I was in trouble.

“Ellery?” Boaz’s brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Did I dare voice the thoughts swirling in my head? The fear of what this could become, the temptation to throw caution to the wind and see where it led us?

Boaz cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Talk to me,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

Together. The word echoed in my mind, full of promise and possibility. And terror.

But could I do this to him? If I told him the truth, everything between us would change. He might feel obligated to stay longer or give us a chance when he had every intention of returning to LA after Christmas.

I knew he liked it here and liked being with me, but that didn’t mean he was developing feelings for me the way I had for him. And even if he had, that still didn’t mean he wanted to give us a chance. Maybe he saw it as an infatuation, a crush—something that would go away once he returned home.

I couldn’t put this pressure on him, no matter how much I wanted to tell him the truth. I couldn’t do it to him. He needed to make his own choice whether to walk away or stay without me influencing him. I hated lying, but surely, in this case, a little white lie was justified since it was to protect him.

Right?