December 18

DECEMBER 18

Oh my gosh, London was so cool and old!

I stifled a yawn and kept my face all but plastered to the window so I could see as much as possible. It was only Daddy and me in the back of one of those classic London taxis, so I didn’t feel the need to put my adult face on.

“You have a choice to make, baby boy,” Daddy said. “We don’t have dinner plans, so either I make us a reservation, or we order room service.”

Fuck. As much as I wanted to go out, I was so damn tired. I barely knew what day it was, much less the time. The stop in New York had only messed with my grasp of reality further.

I turned to him and chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Am I a terrible tourist if I want room service and our naked butts in bed?”

“Yes.” He grinned faintly. “But you’re my perfect boy.”

I lit up. “Are you tired also?”

That made him chuckle. “Sweetheart, I’m dead on my feet.”

Room service and naked butts for the win!

* * *

Daddy traveled in style. We were talking view of the Thames and Tower Bridge, big windows, giant bed, hot tub in the bathroom, and a mini bar that failed with the “mini” part. It was stocked weirdly too. Like, on top of the fridge was an actual candy bar with fancy selections of chocolate Santas, fudge, and colorful lollipops and gummy sweets.

I couldn’t help but slow down at the sight. “Whoa.”

Daddy grabbed my bag and kissed the top of my head. “Go nuts. And maybe thank Suravi. She saw they were offering different packages, so I told her to pick the most Christmassy one.”

Holy crap. “I can actually take something here?”

He found that amusing. “I hope you take more than something. It’s already paid for.”

I snapped my gaze back to the candy and swallowed.

I’d died and gone to freaking heaven, hadn’t I?

“Just save me some roasted cashews,” he went on. “Now, how about you take a bath while I call room service?”

* * *

How could you not love taking baths? Especially when you had an enormous hot tub and massive amounts of bubbles. Daddy was cray-cray. After ordering room service to be delivered at seven thirty, he opted to take a shower instead, ’cause the fancy-pants suite had a separate shower room.

Rich people, I swear.

In the meantime, I dove between the mountains of bubbles and occasionally treated my butt to a massage by one of the jets. My view didn’t hurt either. I could see straight into the shower stall where Daddy was showering.

“I feel an immense love toward your butt, Daddy.”

It was mad sexy.

He chuckled and stepped under the spray to wash off the shampoo. “I feel the same about yours, little love.”

Oh. Little love? That was new.

I was a fan.

Once he was done, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his hips. And he lifted his eyebrows at the sight of the tub.

“Just how much soap did you pour in there?”

I glanced around me. “A healthy amount? In my defense, the jets keep creating the bubbles.”

I’d amused him again!

He came over to me and reached for the showerhead. “You ready to wash the airplane smell out of your hair?”

“Yessir.” I scooted closer to the edge and got up on my knees before him. “What do airplanes smell like, though? I didn’t smell anything yesterday and today.”

“Hm. I suppose it’s just a saying. It sounds better than let’s wash off the travel sweat and airport germs.”

That made me laugh, and I peered up at him and planted my hands on his hips. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

“You must be drunk,” he chuckled. He angled the showerhead over me, and I closed my eyes.

Drunk on loooooove.

Not to mention pleasure. Bath time had quickly become a favorite of mine—Daddy’s too. It was a moment that sort of defined our dynamic and showcased the balance between littleisms and submission. He wanted me to be the goofball who loved the bubbles and splashing water around me, and then he also wanted me to obey him when it was time to get out of the tub. It simply made me super happy. And it felt so good with his fingers in my hair.

I hummed a Christmas tune to myself as he started massaging the shampoo into my hair, and it was tough to stand still. I had ants in my no-pants.

“You don’t look exhausted anymore,” he noted.

“Nope,” I snickered. “I have hotel energy.”

It was a thing. Because it was such a relief to be able to close myself in with my Daddy after all that traveling, and knowing that our only plan for the evening was to eat pizza in bed filled me with jolly joy.

I opened my eyes and brushed my fingers over his towel, and it was his fault because that perfect bump was right there in my face.

“Daddy?” I inched closer to where he’d tightened the towel around himself.

“Yes, baby.”

“What would you say is a more apt name for your cock—pacifier or throat scratcher?”

He coughed and stared down at me.

I smiled sweetly.

I could practically read his mind. He never knew what I was gonna say, and it made me giggle.

“Jesus Christ.” He cleared his throat and shook his head, eyes flashing with mirth. “Never change, Parker.”

Okay, but I hadn’t gotten my answer!

I guessed it didn’t matter. Both were accurate, and I wanted me some throat scratching.

He didn’t say anything when I tested the waters and loosened his towel, though I sensed he was watching me.

“Do you need something from Daddy?”

I nodded and took that as a green light. The towel landed on the floor, and I leaned in and nuzzled his perfect cock. It was all warm and soft and slowly growing thicker and harder. I captured the head with my mouth and lifted my gaze to his, and his fingers slowed down in my hair.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “Go on, suck on Daddy.”

Unf.

I sucked him in unhurriedly, coating him with my tongue, and I didn’t look away from him. I saw how his jaw ticked with tension, felt how his fingers eased down to the back of my head so he could hold me in place, and heard the long breath he let out.

Knowing that our food would be here soon, I picked up the pace as soon as he was hard.

It wasn’t long before he was holding my head in place and fucking my mouth in long, measured thrusts. I sucked and sucked, craving every drop of salty goodness—and his sounds. Those low, whiskey-voiced groans and whispers.

“That’s perfect.”

“My sweet, cock-hungry little baby boy.”

“You’ll get all of Daddy’s milk soon.”

“Right there.”

I whimpered and exploded with lust, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to jerk my cock too. I became so needy that I instantly wanted his cock in my bottom, but we didn’t have the time. Later, I promised myself. Before bedtime, I would beg him to fuck me stupid.

“You best hurry if you want to come with Daddy,” he warned, out of breath. “I’m close.”

Yeah, well, I was twenty-six. I could come in a minute if I wanted to.

I clenched down on nothing and fisted my cock harder, and he let go. He pushed his cock down my throat and groaned, then fucked me in sharp thrusts that made me choke around him.

Panic tinted the edges of my consciousness, and my eyes welled up.

“Breathe through your nose,” he reminded me.

I nodded with my mouth full of cock, and I stupidly let a moan bubble up, which only made me gag again. I couldn’t help it—again! I was so horny and needy, and the raw hunger in his eyes had to be better than Viagra.

He clenched his jaw, and his eyes fluttered to a close, so I knew he was right there on the edge.

I redoubled my efforts, sucking him as hard as I could, and he cursed and started coming.

Finally!

I couldn’t fucking describe the greed that welled up. I drank and sucked, drank and sucked, and it set me off too. In between breathless whimpers, I came in the water and shuddered over and over.

Oof, all my energy disappeared again.