Daddy's Forbidden Room

He wasn’t wearing a suit either.

Kevin swallowed, but wouldn’t chicken out. He gave a shy wave, determined to not seem as skittish as he felt.

The closer the man was, the faster Kevin’s heart pounded. Every confident stride ticked off split seconds remaining to their meeting, and Kevin was surprised by how overwhelmed he felt. He wanted to both stop time to take a deep breath and speed it up so that he could meet Sandro’s gaze already.

So he resumed walking. Fortune favored the bold.

Sandro wore a pair of dark pants and kept one hand in his pocket as he approached. He did have a white shirt on and it was tucked in, but Kevin saw no tie, and the sleeves were casually rolled up to reveal sturdy forearms. Tall, wide-shouldered and trim, Sandro was definitely muscular, but not a bulldozer of a man who spent his days pulling trucks.

The closer he was, the clearer it became that Brandon hadn’t lied.

Sandro was hot.

Kevin knew that much despite the man’s face obscured by shadow and sunglasses. He had short, neatly cut hair, a bit of stubble, and olive skin.

“Sandro?” “Kevin?” they both said at once, already smiling at each other.

Kevin had to take a deep breath at the sound of Sandro’s voice. Even sexier than it had been on the phone. “Daddy,” he said and outstretched his hand while his guts twisted with nerves.

He’d been stressing out about the possibility of having to cause a scene, leave, be an embarrassment. But now, his anxiety skyrocketed because he knew he’d be staying and losing his virginity to the man in front of him. A man older, taller. A man who shook his hand and used the gesture to pull Kevin in for a quick kiss on the lips. Their first.

His scent clawed into all of Kevin’s senses, even though he should have only smelled Sandro with his nose. Instead, he could see the lemons in bright sunlight, their juice squeezed into a pestle full of bergamot while the gentlest hint of flowers tickled his cheeks with their soft white petals.

Kevin gasped, shy like a bride on her wedding night, and the stockings under the denim made that fantasy more real.

Sandro took off his shades, and their eyes met, rendering Kevin speechless. Never had a mature man like this—a full-grown, muscle packed, cologne-smelling, handsome guy like Sandro laid eyes on him this way. The dark brown gaze framed with short tar-black eyelashes drilled into Kevin the way Sandro no doubt wanted to with his dick. Only now did Kevin realize they were still holding hands, and he didn’t want to pull away.

He glanced at the sturdy forearms dusted with dark hair, but as he followed the pronounced veins up the masculine flesh, there was a surprise waiting for him at the folded sleeve.

A tattoo. Some inscription in Italian and a wing that disappeared under the shirt.

“Look at you,” Sandro murmured, taking back Kevin’s attention, and since Kevin still held his hand, Sandro led him into a slow twirl. “You’re even cuter than in the photos.”

“And you—I thought you’d be ugly,” Kevin blurted out, hating himself the moment the words left his mouth yet unable to take them back.

Sandro chuckled and shook his head, never letting go of Kevin’s fingers. “I just like my privacy. I take this means you’re staying?” The self-satisfied smirk on the handsome face made Kevin’s skin flush.

“Yes, Daddy,” he said with more confidence, unable to take his eyes off Sandro. He’d kissed a few guys since he’d met Brandon and come out to him, but none of those make-out sessions could match the tiny peck on the lips from Sandro.

Even now, just leading him down the walkway, Sandro exuded such dominant energy Kevin couldn’t wait to be his naughty boy, and calling him ‘Daddy’ made the difference between them clearer.

Kevin had never before understood his own needs so clearly. He was so very much into older guys. Though ‘guys’ was a bit of an overstatement, because Sandro was the one man on his mind right now.

Daddy. Such a freaking turn-on.

Chapter 3

Kevin knew Sandro for a hot minute, yet they walked toward the yacht hand-in-hand. An eighties saxophone solo played in Kevin’s ears and he fought its influence with all his might, because as exciting as it was to be desired by Sandro, this was no date, and the way Sandro helped him up to the deck shouldn’t be making Kevin’s insides flutter.

Their night together would be a transaction, nothing more.

“Thirsty?” Sandro asked, and stroked Kevin’s shoulder before running back to the jetty to unmoor the yacht.

Kevin gave a nervous laugh as he watched the tanned biceps tense under the fabric. “Very.”

Sandro shook his head with a widening grin. “I was asking if you wanted a drink, naughty boy.”

Kevin leaned against the metal railing, increasingly flustered. “Oh, my God! Yes. Vodka and Coke please. Daddy.”