Daddy's Forbidden Room

Sandro climbed back onto the vessel and stroked Kevin’s chin in passing. “You’re old enough to take my dick, not get intoxicated. Coke it is then.”

Kevin groaned in frustration, eyeing the shape of Sandro’s back when he turned away. For once, he was staring at a mouthwatering man who smelled like a lemon grove by the Mediterranean sea—Kevin had never been to Europe, but he could swear that would be the scent—and he would actually get to taste him. He was being promised dick, and Sandro was generous with his touch already. Kevin had to remember that he was the prize and pace himself around Sandro even though right now, he'd spend the last dollar in his pocket to suck that D.

Overwhelmed and out of his depth, Kevin followed Sandro into a large living room area decorated with real wood and leather. The floor was made of what looked like smooth planks that had been oiled rather than lacquered, and the attention to detail brought to mind the luxury of vessels owned by billionaires. The cockpit was located in the same space, with comfortable chairs, dusky windows that let in enough light to illuminate the whole cabin, but Sandro headed for the open-plan kitchen with marble countertops.

Sandro filled a glass with Coke and handed it to Kevin, his gaze sliding from Kevin’s sneakers to his face. “You’re awfully quiet, baby boy. Scared or shy?”

Kevin licked his lips. “Nervous.”

Sandro stepped closer, only reminding Kevin how much bigger he was when he stood in such proximity. “Wanna chill for a little? I’m taking us to the pier by my house anyway. You could take a seat next to the captain.”

“You mean on your island?” Kevin clutched his Coke, meeting the dark gaze that made his heart tremble.

“So, Brandon’s been gossiping about it. Yes, on my island, but we’ll stay on the yacht.” He had a sip of whatever the sparkly dark drink in his own glass was and led the way to the controls.

“How come, Daddy?” Kevin asked. Not long ago, he’d considered sex on the yacht exciting, but being denied access somewhere all of a sudden made him want to go there instead.

Sandro stopped in front of the seats, blocking Kevin’s way. “Because Daddy likes his space and only invites boys who stay for longer.”

“And you have many of those on standby?” Kevin laughed nervously, but already felt a pang of jealousy, because a guy like Sandro could afford a whole harem of boys like him.

“One at a time. Speaking of which, baby boy, before I let you into your seat, you need to show me if you’ve been naughty and need discipline, or if you followed my instructions.”

The way Sandro gazed at Kevin’s legs, left no doubt that he wanted to see the panties and stockings. And yet Kevin almost regretted that he’d worn them after all, because the idea of being pulled across Sandro’s knee and spanked with those big hands while his jeans were obscenely lowered was just as delicious as revealing his chosen lingerie to Daddy.

Kevin put his drink on the table but glanced at the large windows surrounding them from every side. “What if someone sees us?”

“Not at this angle. And we’re far away from the shore. Don’t worry, your attire will be our little secret.”

Kevin swallowed. This was really happening. Sandro leaned against the back of the captain’s seat and watched Kevin unzip the jeans. Kevin had once dry-humped a friend he’d been making out with, but that was the extent of his sexual experience. Sure, he’d used locker rooms at school, and Brandon had seen him undress, but those situations weren’t charged with the kind of anticipation that oozed off Sandro’s skin.

But Kevin had never been this infatuated with anyone either. Attraction had never hit him at this breakneck pace. Not ever. He wanted to get another kiss. To run his fingers over the dense stubble on Sandro’s cheeks—the kind of facial hair none of his high school friends could dream of growing.

Sandro bit his lip as soon as lilac fabric peeked from Kevin’s zipper, and Kevin could live on that expression alone for a week. He’d never felt this desired, and he wanted to drink up all of Sandro’s lust.

He turned around and slowly pulled down the denim, revealing the little bow under the small of his back, then the top of his crack unobscured by underwear, leaving him open to touch. Open to what they would undoubtedly do later.

Now that he could put a face to Sandro’s voice, the vision of Daddy on top of him, pushing his cock in like a machine and making him take it while whispering filth into his ear became so searing in his brain, he had to take a deep breath when need clutched at his balls.