Just Sign Here - Cara Dee Page 0,23

kneeled today, and um, I b-bought the underwear you said you thought I should have.”

My God.

I took off my glasses and placed them on my nightstand with my tablet.

“Show me.” It was impossible to keep the lust out of my voice completely. Soon, it would be impossible to hide it too. “Get on your knees right here next to me and show me.”

He let out an unsteady breath, a sound that filled the silence, and walked over cautiously.

At the side of my bed, he gulped in some air and dropped his sweatpants, letting them pool by his feet.

I had no words. The tight, soft-looking gray cotton briefs clung to his skin so fucking perfectly. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I tilted my head and eye-fucked his delectable little ass. Then back to his front, where the fabric hugged his cock and balls. Never before had I envied fabric.

Peyton’s breathing sped up as he climbed up to kneel on the mattress, and I followed his gaze to my semi-erect cock.

I tested the waters and brushed my hand up his thigh. “You have no idea how much this pleases me.”

His abs clenched when I traced my fingers along the edge of his briefs.

“Do they feel good?” I asked.

He nodded quickly but didn’t say anything, nor did he tear his eyes away from my cock.

Wanting to get more comfortable, I wedged another pillow behind my back so I could half sit and stay close enough to touch him. Then I reached down and wrapped my fingers around my cock, stroking it unhurriedly. He kept watching. He kept fucking watching. Christ, I needed him to break soon. I had to have him.

It brought me relief to see he was far from unaffected himself. His cock bulged under the fabric of his briefs, and I couldn’t decide whether or not to touch him there. God knew I wanted to.

“Do you enjoy kneeling for me?”

“Yes, sir,” he exhaled.

I let out a quiet groan and stroked myself a little harder.

He sucked in a breath.

“Such a beautiful little boy.” I couldn’t help myself. I slid my hand to his ass and kneaded one of the cheeks firmly, and the whimper that escaped him almost did me in. His cock was straining in his briefs at that point, and I spied the smallest of wet spots darkening the gray fabric. It made my mouth water. “You’re going to watch me come, aren’t you?”

He nodded jerkily and balled his hands into fists along his sides.

“Very soon,” I promised. “All mine…” I groped at his ass, squeezing it until I could see redness appearing in blotchy prints after my thumb. “I own you. Don’t I, Peyton?”

“Yes, sir,” he moaned.

“That’s a good boy.” The urgency built up rapidly, and I slipped my hand underneath his briefs. “Say, ‘You own me, sir.’”

“You own me, sir,” he gasped.

I groaned loudly, fisting my cock tightly, stroking it faster and faster, and felt the pleasure pooling lower and lower. “Say, ‘You own me, Daddy.’”

His breathing stuttered, and he quickly cupped his cock, squeezing it. “You own me, Daddy.”

“Don’t touch yourself,” I grunted and pushed away his hand. “Fuck, boy. I’m gonna come. Oh God, Peyton. Daddy’s coming.” I succumbed to the euphoria, and it ripped through me with a force that would’ve floored me if I hadn’t been in bed. Ropes of come splashed against my abdomen, flooding the air with the scent of sex.

God-fucking-damn.

There was no word to describe how much I’d needed that.

I swallowed dryly and collapsed against the mattress.

“Sir,” Peyton gritted. “M-may I be excused?”

I frowned and blinked, squinting up at him, and worry was the first thing that shot up my spine. Until I got a proper look at him. He was practically shaking with need. The wet spot in his briefs had grown larger, and I’d never seen him strung so tight.

He needed to get off. But he wasn’t bold enough to ask me to help him. Or maybe he wasn’t ready yet.

“If you assure me that everything’s all right,” I told him seriously, still catching my breath.

He nodded furiously and scrambled off the bed. “Everything is fine, sir, I promise. I promise, I promise. I just gotta go. Oh my God.” He tumbled for the door and fled the scene.

Seven

I was up with the sun the next morning. I’d slept well, but Peyton had remained on the fringes of my conscience. I wanted to make sure he was okay.

I’d heard him upstairs around seven, about the same time I