Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

DRAVEN

Tavish's mouth crashes into mine and I pull us away from the wall, sitting on the long sofa underneath the windows across from where we sat during takeoff. He backs away, our lips parting slowly. He looks around and shakes his head.

"Not here."

Holding him against me, I grind up into him. Our dicks, both leaking and dripping precum over the other, slide against one another. I reach between us, but he slithers out o' my grasp. Standing before me, he holds his hand out to me as he glances over his shoulder toward the door he opened.

"Please, Draven."

Something in his tone slots together with the image o' how he looked before he threw his shirt at me, and I realize he needs something from me and it's not just sex. I take his hand and he makes a show o' tugging me to my feet. I cannae help but laugh at the boy. He's fucking strong for his size, but there's nae anyway the boy can heft my big arse off the sofa.

His face falls. I catch his hand as it drops in defeat. "I hope there's a bed back there, because if my dick disnae get inside ye soon, pojke, I'm gonna be a verra unhappy Daddy Dom."

The crestfallen look on his face disappears, only to be replaced with giddy elation. "I promise you'll be a very happy Daddy if you come with me."

I smirk, standing up and yanking him against me. "Oh, I'm gonna to come with ye, lilla du, but first I'm gonna make ye beg."

The boy climbs me like a tree. His legs circle my waist as I hurry through the door he opened earlier.

"Good. Take me to bed, Daddy, or lose me forever," he says as he places sucking kisses on my neck.

I laugh. "Top Gun? Really? How the fuck do ye come up with this shit, boy? That's at least twenty years before yer time."

"Tom Cruise was hot back in the day, Daddy."

I drop him on the bed. "That he was. Ye ken who's hot now?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Oh, yeah. Who?"

"You. My daddy is the hottest daddy of all the daddies."

The little rears his head and I have to keep from melting at the schmoopy goodness his antics trigger in me. I shove down my pants and crawl between his thighs. My shoulders force them open to make room for me between them.

I pause, waiting until he's looking at me before asking, "Ye remember yer safe words?"

He nods, and I arch a brow at him. He kens the rules.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good boy, lilla du."

His pretty cock bounces and drips before my gaze. I swallow it without warning, burying my nose in the patch o' hair at the base. His back arches off the bed, forcing his dick into my throat. The taste o' him, salty and sweet all at once, bursts across my tongue. Hollowing my cheeks out, I suck and slurp at him until he's screaming for release. True to my word, every time he gets close, I stop or slow down until his orgasm backs off, leaving him a needy, wanty, begging mess.

"Please! Daddy, please," he begs.

His flushed face was so pretty and innocent. He's the perfect conundrum. Sweet and innocent in how he looks, yet debauched and slutty in the demands that pass through his plump lips.

I slide a finger into my mouth beside his cock, tickling the underside o' his dick as I wet the digit good. Pulling away again just before he blows, I rub my finger over his taint. Close, but nae close enough. He's twisting and writhing on the bed under me, unable to keep himself still.

His litany o' pleas is music to my ears, and I thank God I started carrying packets o' lube in my wallet after the first time he kissed me. Even though I didn't fuck him that night; even though I denied the things he made me feel, my subconscious kenned I was a goner for the boy. I'd nae carried condoms or lube on me since before Simon died, but as I ran from him and the thing he made me feel, I stopped at a petrol station to buy supplies while telling myself I dinnae need them.

Aye, I was an eejit.

I blame the boy.

He's the cause o' all my stupidity lately.

At least since I stumbled across him.

That last thought has the ring o' Simon's voice in my head. I'd love if it were him but, I ken it cannae be. Just my subconscious playing with me. Simon was always my voice o' reason and iffn he's going to continue that role subconsciously, I'm good with that. I'll keep him alive however I can.

I snatch a packet o' lube out o' the wallet laying amid my discarded pants and coat my fingers. Sliding them between those luscious ass cheeks, I play with his hole, tapping and pressing and circling until tears gather in his eyes. I ken I'm pressing my luck, but I want him a fucking mess. I want his face red and splotchy and covered in tears as he begs and sobs for release.

The next time I circle his rim, I press inside but instead o' stopping to stretch his hole the way I have been; I bury my fingers in his arse, hitting that bundle o' nerves dead on.

His body bows until he's resting on the back o' his neck. As I strum my fingers over that spot, his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open in a silent scream. My eyes bounce from his face to his cock, watching for the moment…

There it is.

Precum pours from his tip, and I pull my fingers out o' his hole.

"No! Please, daddy! Please, please, please, please…"

What starts as a scream ends in soft sobs and the tears I've been waiting for.

"Look how pretty ye cry and beg for me, pojke."

Non-sensible sounds continue pouring from him. His back arches and his toes curl as he chases after the orgasm that was building within him. An orgasm I'm nae gonna let him have. At least not yet.

"Not yet, mo ghille. I want ye desperate for me."

Pulling away from him until the only parts o' us that touch are where his legs drape over my thighs, I coat my cock with the rest o' the lube. He usually likes to watch me stroke myself as I ready my cock for him, but he's thrashing and crying.

Notching my dick against his hole, he stills. His voice is going hoarse, and I smirk.

"Are ye going to scream for me, lilla du?"

He nods and I reach out and twist his nipple until he gasps.

"Ow!"

His eyes fly open, and a petulant, bratty look takes over his face.

"That's twice. Ye ken how to answer me."

"Yes, sir. That hurt, Daddy."

"I meant for it to. Now, answer me. Are ye going to scream for me?"

"I always do."

"Mo ghille, the brat is writing checks yer arse cannae cash."

"Now, who's quoting Top Gun?"

"Hmmm. Is that the bathroom?"

His brow furrows. "Yeah," he responds.

"Good. I'm going to jerk off and get some rest."

"What? Why?"

"Only good boys get Daddy's cock."

I stand and move away from the bed toward the bathroom. As much as I want to fuck the boy through the mattress, he's gotta learn Daddy is the boss.

He scrambles up on his knees, "No, Daddy. Please. I'll be good. I promise."

Kneeling before him, I say, "If ye arenae enjoying something, ye have yer safe words. That's what they're for. So, is the brat because ye're nae enjoying what we're doing and ye're afraid to safe word or because yer mad ye're nae getting yer way?"

He stares at me, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Just when I think he's nae going to answer, the pout returns, and I have my answer, but I want him to admit it. I dinnae want to break the boy, but I cannae let him get away with nae answering me.

"The second one," he whispers, his chin dropping to his chest.