Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  Over and over, he brushes his lips over the wet tip. I keep my mouth firmly shut to stifle a groan when his tongue darts out across his bottom lip.

  "It tastes salty." Another little lick.

  "That feels amazing, Dylan. Such a good boy." My fingers disappear into his hair so I can control his movements better. "Now you can suck on it. If you do that long enough, you'll get a grown-up surprise."

  "I like surprises," he admits. He stalls for a beat, unsure, but eventually closes his mouth around the head of my aching cock. "Like this?"

  I nod quickly and breathe in deeply through my nose. It would be too easy to lose control here.

  "So good," I exhale. "You can take more." I push him down another inch or two, taking it as slowly as I possibly can. "Perfect, perfect."

  That’s encouragement for him. He wants to please me, so he takes a big breath and redoubles his efforts.

  "That’s it," I moan. "You're making me very happy, sweetheart. Fucking beautiful. You look so good sucking on Daddy."

  He whimpers, leaving a trail of saliva trickling down my shaft, and I gotta stop. Christ. I withdraw from him and tell him to lie down in the middle of the bed 'cause I wanna show him something.

  "Hang on." I halt him, spotting a dark patch on the sheets where he's been. "Do you see this? You have to tell me when you get this wet, little pan."

  "Why?" He sits on his butt, legs spread, showing me every inch I wanna get lost in. "I don't know why it leaks like that."

  "It's because you like playing secret games." I crawl over him, pushing him down flat against the mattress. "And we don't waste come."

  His breathing grows rapid in an instant, and I have his undivided attention. The anticipation is thick between us, and he gives me another one of his sexy, needy sounds as I lower my face to take his cock into my mouth.

  "Fuck!" He fists the sheets, and I hum and suck hungrily, up and down, tightening my lips, stroking him, faster, wanting his hot spurts to flood my mouth—but I stop. "Nooo!" He pants, expression wild. "Why did you stop? Please don’t stop!"

  "I'll give you something better, I promise." I sit back, my hand moving absently over my cock. "I need you on your stomach. Be careful with your leg."

  I slick up my erection with lube while I wait.

  I have no words for how sexy he is. On his stomach, legs spread, he's mine for the taking.

  "Do-do you also like sucking, Daddy?" he asks over his shoulder.

  "I love it." I crawl over him once more and kiss his shoulder. "I love tasting my little boy's come right before I fuck him." I drop more kisses along his shoulder blades as I slip between his firm ass cheeks with coated fingers.

  "Oh, my God," he moans. "I'm losing my mind."

  Maybe he's dropped the act of not knowing what's gonna happen because he needs this as much as I do. Maybe it's because he can barely control his breathing, much less talk. It doesn’t matter, and I wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade, anyway. My body's tense and ready to go off, my senses zeroing in on one thing and one thing only. To fuck him until he's begging me to stop.

  Dylan's sounds are constant, and he moves with my fingers as I prepare him. When I force two fingers in, he meets my push. When I pull out, he grinds his cock against the mattress. Filthy boy is gonna leave a wet spot for the cleaning crew.

  "Fuck me," he begs.

  Wiping the excess lube on the sheet, I press my cock against his glistening opening. In return, he tries to relax and push back. It's enough for the pierced head to breach the first ring, and then I don't have patience to treat him like a beginner. With a firm, unhurried thrust of my hips, I bury myself inside his tight ass.

  Dylan chokes on a breath. "It burns, Daddy."

  I grit my teeth, assaulted by the ecstasy. "Give it a minute." But I can't give it a damn second. I pull out, only to drive forward again, and I set a steady pace to fuck him into the mattress. "Move with me."

  He groans and lifts his ass, allowing me to push deeper. All the way, until he gasps and goes rigid. That’s it. His moans turn pleading. He gives me all the access I want, and I fuck him harder. My balls hit his soft skin every time I ram in, and he lets me know in his own sexy way when I hit that sweet spot.

  "More," he whimpers into the pillow. "Fuck me harder."

  It mutes his sounds too much, so I push in all the way and reach up to yank the pillow from him. "What have I said about hiding, Dylan?" I withdraw from him and sit back. "Turn around. I wanna see your face."

  He scrambles into position quickly, turning into a boy slut the way I love. Legs spread, he pulls me closer, and I laugh into a messy kiss. A second later, I'm balls deep again.

  We both lose it. Touching morphs into grabbing and clawing, I slam my cock in and out, our kisses are as choppy as our breathing, and a steady string of come pulses from his cock, pooling across his defined abs.

  "There." He screws his eyes shut, holding my face close to his, and takes a shallow breath. "Oh fuck, right there."

  I stroke his slick cock and swivel my hips, making sure the barbell teases his prostate.

  "It's not scary anymore," he groans. "The piercing's not scary, Daddy. It feels so good—unngh—I'm c-close."

  A low growl emanates from my chest, and I tense up when he clenches down on me. Heat travels through me, causing my body to flush and the orgasm to rush forward.

  "Will you make a big mess for Daddy?"

  He jerks a nod and holds on to me, his body moving erratically with my thrusts. He's gone. Ropes of come splash across his stomach and chest, and the sight almost sets me off. The smell of sex is heavy around us, and I forget everything that isn't him and me.

  The moment Dylan's muscles unclench and he starts panting after holding his breath throughout his climax, I succumb to my own release.

  "Sensitive," he gasps.

  I push in hard, my chest sliding up along his messy one, and my forehead lands on his shoulder. A bead of sweat trickles down my neck, ripping a shudder through me.

  "Daddy, I—ahhh."

  "Not yet, baby boy." I groan as the pleasure explodes within. "Fuck," I growl. "Not yet, not yet."

  "Daddy, please." He squirms underneath me, only making it better for me. I pull out and push in, rocking as deep as I can, and I start coming. "Oh shit, I can feel—fuck, too much."

  I know the exact feeling he's battling. When it's too much and not enough at the same time. I torture him with it, fucking him while I'm coming, fucking my come into him, and he cries out and trembles, one second trying to get away, the next second pulling me close.

  The intensity fades slowly, leaving me boneless and sated. I reluctantly get off him and collapse on the empty spot next to his spent form. A perfect fucking mess. He drapes an arm and a leg over me, and we're quiet while we regain our breath.

  "That was…"

  I chuckle, still out of breath. "Yeah."

  "Holy shit." He shivers violently. "I wanna laugh and cry." He lifts his face, his eyes shining and his smile wide. "We need to do that lots, Daddy."

  "As much as we want." I cup his cheek and kiss his sweet lips. "My perfect little boy."

  I kinda wish we had another few hours, but unfortunately, we don't.

  *

  The smiles last longer. Dylan's sporting a shit-eating grin when we enter the tattoo shop, and it's difficult keeping my hands to myself. I'm glad we stayed an extra night; we did need it, and I make a mental note to plan something for Dylan and Gabriella, too. They'll benefit from having some alone time as much as he and I did, and they'll grow even closer.

  Having a needle leaving a sharp trail of piercing fire along my calf wipes the smile off my face eventually, though nothing can steal my good mood. Ink is permanent and finally as solid as the three of us are, and I'm a lucky motherfucker to wear the princess's work.

  It's only because of the simple design of Dylan's tattoo that it's even possible for him to get it done in one day. Anime is straight lines with minimal shading and not many details.
Even so, it's still half a sleeve to cover his knee and a few inches above and below, so he's stuck in a chair for nine hours that day.

  My ink is done in three and a half. After which, I sit by Dylan's side and make sure his blood sugar doesn’t get low. The skilled tattoo artist calls him loco and laughs.

  "What's your longest session?" Dylan asks him, wincing when the artist hits a sensitive spot below the knee.

  I silently hand the boy his milk shake, and he takes a long suck from it.

  "Fourteen hours," the man replies. "Never again. Fucking hell, this li'l chica was doin' a big cover-up, and she wouldn’t stop shakin'."

  The buzz from the machine is constant, both mildly irritating after so many hours yet oddly lulling.

  Every part of me wants to remove the wrap on my calf so I can take a picture and send it to Gabriella, but I hold back. I wanna see the look on her face when I show her. The guy who did mine complimented the beautiful artwork, and of course, I was proud like nothing else.

  After hours and hours, Dylan's nearly done, and I quietly mention that I'll go pay.

  As I reach the front desk, Dylan's tattoo artist hollers to the girl by the register. "Kid gets half off, Ally!" He turns to Dylan, continuing his work. "My little brother told me about your accident. Keep fightin', yeah?"

  Dylan smiles, humbled, and nods. "Yes, sir."

  *

  The following afternoon, it's a cranky Dylan I guide through the airport back in California. He can't put much pressure on his knee, his other knee is itching and sore, and he's stiff after we ended up in seats with no extra legroom.

  He's home, though. We have two bags of his personal belongings, the rest to be shipped, and he's not going anywhere without us for a long fucking time. Now we'll focus on physical therapy, settling into our home, and look forward to our upcoming vacation.

  "Don't scratch it again, kid," I tell him. "I'm serious."

  He scowls at the ground as we near the exit. "I wanna remove the plastic."

  He can do that when we get home. I'm in khaki shorts, so I only wore my wrap for a few hours yesterday. His session was a hell of a lot longer and more intense, plus the fresh ink would be rubbing against his sweats. No need to make the healing process difficult, so I reapplied a wrap around his leg this morning.

  "If you don't let it heal properly, you won't be able to swim in Mexico," I say. "I don't think you wanna sit on the beach while the rest of us get in the ocean because you didn’t let the scabs fall off on their own."

  That makes him pout, though it doesn’t last long. The minute we step outside and he spots Gabriella, he lights up.

  So does she. Leaving the truck, she rushes over to hug us.

  "You're home!"

  Yeah, at fucking last. Everything is the way it's supposed to be.

  *

  I collapse on the bed after my shower, more tired than I can say. Happier than I can say, too.

  Dylan's in a daze. When we came back, he asked why the backyard was torn up, and Gabriella's been chatting him up about my plans for the space ever since.

  Standing by the window that overlooks the backyard, he sends me a smile and mouths that he loves me.

  I do the same, and I hope he sees now we're serious about this. It's no longer the house I live in but the home we're creating together.

  Having exhausted the topic of the backyard plans, Gabriella moves on to tell us about her sleepover. I wanna know everything, but Dylan needs to get off his feet.

  "Princess, why don't you help him in the shower?" I suggest. "I can order us some food."

  "Okay. Come, Dylan." She takes his hand. "Let's clean you up. You smell like airplane and boy."

  I chuckle, watching them retreat into the bathroom, hand in hand.

  "Your hair is green, sis," I hear Dylan say.

  "It's teal, dammit!" Her voice echoes in the bathroom. "It's gonna be purple for the wedding—what is that?"

  I smirk to myself, having a feeling I know what she's seeing for the first time.

  It's quiet for a moment. Some soft rustling. The crutch clanks against the floor, and then Gabriella's saying "oh my God" over and over.

  "It's from the cast," she murmurs thickly.

  A beat later, they're kissing and whispering to each other.

  I sigh contentedly and shut my eyes, wondering how the fuck I got so lucky.

  When the shower starts running, it doesn’t take long before Gabriella reemerges from the bathroom, and she's perfectly flushed and giddy-looking. Jumping up on the bed, she becomes my cuddle monster and reveals she's falling in love with Dylan.

  "That's wonderful, princess." I smile and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

  "He said he's falling for me, too," she whispers.

  "How could he not?" I dip down and brush my lips to hers. "One day very soon, he'll love you as much as I do."

  Her breath catches, and she blinks slowly, twice. "You—you love me?"

  "So very much. I never stood a chance against either of you."

  She grins shakily, her eyes brimming. "I love you, too. I get butterflies."

  "Oh, yeah?" I slip a leg in between hers and stroke her tummy under her top. "I'll do my best to keep those butterflies safe."

  "I trust you." The serene look in her eyes—so fucking gorgeous. "I can't believe Dylan did all that ink in one session."

  "He wanted to surprise you," I murmur. "So did I." At her curious expression, I bend my knee so she can see the back of my leg.

  "Daddy!" She flies outta my embrace, eyes wide, and gets up close and personal with the ink. She touches it gingerly, the area still irritated. "It's my sketch!"

  "Of course it is," I chuckle. "Come here. I wanna see you."

  She giggles as I pick her up and position her on my hips, her delectable ass wriggling over my semi.

  "I'm the luckiest Daddy in the world." The sappy moment is ruined by my stomach that growls in hunger, and it makes the princess laugh and laugh. "I guess I should order our dinner, huh?"

  "I think that’s what your tummy wants," she sings. She leans down and gives me a loud smooch. "I'm the luckiest girl in the world, so there."

  Let's keep it that way.

  Epilogue

  "Dylan, get back here!" I yell from the terrace.

  He groans and half jogs, half limps. "It's been half an hour since breakfast. That’s what you said."

  Mark chuckles and sips his coffee. Brayden's halfway down the beach already, along with Gabriella and Chelsea.

  "That’s not it. Put some on." Not leaving my chair, I toss him the bottle of sun block for his leg. "And be careful in the sand, will ya? It's too soon for you to be fucking running." The kid can give me heart palpitations.

  When walking on a steady surface, he does all right without the crutch, but in the sand, it puts too much pressure on his bad knee even with the brace. Fuck if I'm having him getting worse on vacation.

  "There." He shows his sun block-smothered tattoo. "Can I swim now, please?"

  "Give Daddy a kiss first."

  He grins and kisses me before he's off.

  That leaves me, Mark, and Evangeline to enjoy the shade of my bungalow's terrace. With a perfect view of our private beach, we drink coffee—juice for the pregnant girl—and eat pastries, all lazy-like. It's vacation.

  "I think I'll go down to the pool." Evangeline gives Mark a kiss on the cheek and rises. "Anything I can get you first, Master?"

  "No, enjoy yourself, kitten. Stay where I can see you." He smiles and watches her as she trails down the stone path to the pool. "Rio should be back from his run soon, shouldn’t he?"

  I check my watch. "Yeah—and speak of the devil." The man appears between two bungalows, drenched in sweat. "It's eighty-six degrees, man."

  "Piss off, mate." He wheezes a breath and sits down in a chair, quick to reach for a water bottle. "Unlike some, I can't sit around and do nothing and look this good."

  It helps doing manual labor all day long. I'm not doing f
uck-all like Mark. Which is ironic. He owns a chain of fitness centers that a team of employees runs for him, and as far as I know, he never uses them.

  "So we have a week here," Mark says. "Shall we discuss some fun ways to terrorize our subs?"

  I grin over the rim of my coffee mug. "You bet. Although, I promised Gabriella I wouldn’t be a meany until tomorrow. Wedding day is off-limits."

  Today's a short day. Kayla and Nicholas are having brunch with their families, and our girls will join in a few hours for hair and makeup.

  "How benevolent of you." Rio's eyes flash with mirth.

  I smirk. "That’s what I'm saying."

  "Are you guys going to sightsee any?" Mark asks. "Evangeline's looking forward to being lazy by the pool, but Brayden wants to head out."

  "We're just gonna chill," I reply. It's been a rough year. I want my two close, and we've decided that we wanna take it easy and spoil one another rotten with good food, sex, and beach fun. "We have everything we need right here."

  "Chelsea and I will leave the area a bit." Rio kicks off his shoes and runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "There are some hiking trails she wants to take on, and I have plans for our last day here."

  I smile, having a good guess of what he's planning. Chelsea will sport an engagement ring at their collaring ceremony when we get home, I think.

  Mark whacks Rio with a rolled-up newspaper. "Don't look so nervous. You know she'll say yes."

  "Jesus. Am I that transparent?" Rio rolls his eyes, seemingly at himself, and snorts. "Bloody hell. I blame it on that girl."

  "Usually easier that way," I laugh.

  Mark jerks a thumb my way. "Isn't he a bit too cheerful these days?"

  I flip him off while Rio grins.

  "I'd say we all are," he answers. "So let's get cracking on that terrorizing before we get sappier?"

  That’s probably best.

  *

  Leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, I watch in silence as Dylan and Gabriella get ready in front of the two mirrors. He helps to zip up her light purple summer dress, and she assists him in a futile attempt to tame his hair.