Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,78

hope you have a vase.”

“Of course I do.” Did I? I sweated for a moment before remembering—Seb had bought me flowers to celebrate getting the lease on the shop. “In the bottom cupboard,” I told him and followed at a leisurely pace.

Slate set the flowers on the counter and opened the cupboard, bending over. His pants were already tight around that magnificent ass, and when he bent over? Well, that gave me the ideal view.

Then I realized Slate was grinning at me from between his legs. Busted. “You deliberately put it there,” he accused me.

“I do what I like. Now get the vase and stop fooling around, or I’ll be tempted to test your stamina,” I ordered.

I couldn’t help myself, though. Moth to a freaking flame. I walked toward him, my palms already burning with the need to touch him.

Slate shivered. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He took his time sorting through the pots and boxes in the cupboard.

So I reached out with a single fingertip, drawing it up Slate’s inner thigh and over the mound of his balls, the fabric tight across his groin. He rocked forward, stumbled—almost fell, but caught himself on the counter as a low cry tore from his throat.

“I hope my boy has been good,” I whispered and folded my hands behind my back. “Anything you need to tell Daddy?”

Slate clutched the vase like it was made of gold, shut the cupboard with his knee, and shook his head. He leaned heavily into the counter. “No, Daddy. I learned my lesson.”

“Which is?” I shifted my weight until I stood evenly, my hands cupping my elbows. I wanted the weight of a whip at my side, but I knew I projected the same energy whether I had one there or not.

“No giving orders. No distracting and tempting you. No bottoming from the top. Wait. No. Topping from the top. From the bottom. Topping from the bottom. That’s it.” He kept talking faster, his tongue tripping over itself as he grew more flustered. “I-I learned the lesson, Daddy. I promise.”

Apparently he hadn’t learned after all, then. I grinned and let him see all my teeth, joyous desire flooding me at Slate’s nervous gulp.

“No, boy,” I corrected him, stifling the joy that threatened to soften my words as I remembered how real it was now. How official. “I decide when you’ve learned your lesson.”

“S-Sorry,” Slate whispered.

But that wasn’t enough. I needed to make it stick—make it sting.

“Bend over.”

Slate’s eyes went huge. He set down the vase a good arm’s length away, sensibly, but stared at me. “R-Right here?”

Oh, he’ll learn to obey. But he’ll take training.

I stepped forward, grabbed his bicep and his hip, and forcefully spun him around. “Here,” I hissed, letting the savagery bleed into my words. “And now.” I shoved a flat hand up his back, pressing him down against the counter.

He buckled but went down, resting his forehead against his folded arms on the counter.

“When your Daddy tells you to do something, you do it,” I snarled. If he couldn’t master the simplest rules of being a boy… No. He’ll learn, I reassured myself. “Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Slate whimpered. I could hear it in his voice—the slightest of changes, but clear as day to my ear now. The way his muscles loosened and his body relaxed, while tensing up in anticipation of his punishment.

I smiled and drew back my hand for one slap on the delicious mounds of his firm ass. It wasn’t going to sting, especially through the muffling layers of fabric, but it would get his attention.

Slate grunted and rocked back toward my hand, spreading his feet on the floor for balance. He kept his head down, his breathing shallow. Sharp-edged, like the knife of anticipation that danced along my skin.

At last, I was still and steady. Certainty anchored me and slowed my thoughts. I, too, was sliding into another state of mind: the pure, utter focus on Slate’s every twitch and gasp.

I imagined this was how subs felt, too. Both of us gave in to instinct. No decisions or thinking. This was all the feeling mind—the animal brain that knew what it needed, if not why. Blissful escape.

Another glancing blow landed on the irresistibly soft, rounded ass hugged by the thin fabric of his trousers. Tingles ran through my palm, dissolving at my fingertips.

Time disappeared. It ceased to matter. All I cared about was drawing Slate at exactly the right pace through the stages of bliss, from the earliest touches straight through