And, before long, Ryland started to feel something different. His cock had been hard and leaking this whole time, but now there was something new, something more.
A smile curled the edges of Deacon’s mouth. “That’s it, baby. I feel you tensing up. You’re getting close. Come for Daddy and be my good boy. Once I make you come like this, baby, you’re going to want to beg Daddy to do it again.”
Ryland was pretty sure Deacon was absolutely right about that, too. Because like it’d suddenly snuck up on him, pleasure exploded, from deeper inside him than he was used to feeling. His balls tightened before he climaxed, ropes of cum shooting all over his abs, all the way up to his chest even, leaving him moaning and gasping and shuddering, pinned and helpless and unable to move.
“That’s Daddy’s good boy,” Deacon said as he started fucking him, pounding him, hard, ball-slapping strokes that shook the entire bed, until he was soon coming. “Holy shit,” Deacon gasped. “Don’t move.” He pulled out and disappeared into the bathroom to clean up, returning a moment later.
Ryland couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. He felt…drained, but in a good way. Like he’d just been shook by an earthquake that had totally realigned him to the way he should be.
Like maybe his entire life before this moment was virtually meaningless.
Deacon returned, bringing a damp washcloth and a towel so Ryland could clean up. Then he climbed into bed with him, folding Ryland into his arms.
“Holy shit,” Ryland mumbled against him.
Deacon chuckled, rubbing that gorgeously trimmed beard against the top of his head. “Good, I hope?”
“Holy shit,” he repeated, stunned. He finally tipped his head back, pulling the man in for a kiss. “That was, no shit, Daddy, the best fucking I’ve ever had in my life.”
He grinned. “Told you.”
Ryland stroked his beard, playing with it, fascinated. “I hope you still want to spend the night with me.”
“Oh, you bet I do.”
“I’m going to say something at the risk of sounding really fucking lame right now.”
“Go for it. No judgment here.”
He lightly raked his fingers through Deacon’s beard. “You’re single, right?”
“Yep.”
“Any chance you’re…looking?”
Deacon turned his head to lightly suck on Ryland’s fingers. “As a matter of fact, yep.”
“Seriously? How are you still available?”
“Simple man, simple dream.” He smiled, but it faded. “And a daughter who I raised as a single father, who is now a single mother to a three-year-old little girl. That’s apparently my kryptonite.”
“I love kids.”
He arched an eyebrow at him.
“No, seriously, I do. I’ve babysat for friends before. I figure I’m not having any of my own, at least I can vicariously enjoy them. Do you get to see her much?”
* * * *
Deacon tensed, wondering if Ryland was pulling his leg or not. “I watch her while my daughter’s working. My daughter’s a CNA at a nursing home. Usually has weekends off, but not always. Mostly Monday through Friday. Delaney wanted to find a daycare for her, and I put my foot down and said no. I’d rather take care of her. Less chance of her getting sick every time she turns around. I don’t even want her in a VPK. I’ll take care of her until she’s ready for kindergarten, and then do before- and after-school care for her once she is.”
Ryland held up his hand to him, and Deacon laid his palm against Ryland’s.
The other man laced fingers with him. “If you want to talk about getting together after tonight,” Ryland said, “maybe having dinner or catching a movie or something, to spend time together, I’d like that.”
“You would?”
“Yeah.”
He studied Ryland for a moment. “I’ll warn you now, my daughter’s a hard sell. The age difference will definitely throw her, but I don’t care. If you can put up with her, you can probably put up with anything.”
Ryland laughed. “Daddy, I run a fast-food restaurant. I can already put up with anything.”
Deacon honestly couldn’t remember when he’d had a better time with a guy, felt so at ease this soon. “I guess you’re right.” He loved how Ryland touched him, his beard, stroking his arms, like he couldn’t get enough of him.
They snuggled and talked and, finally, after about twenty minutes, Deacon rolled Ryland onto his back. “Daddy wants to play some more.” He bent his head to Ryland’s cock, which had already halfway stiffened while they were talking. “Just because Daddy’s not a bottom doesn’t mean I don’t like to do things like this.”
He leaned in and sucked on the head of Ryland’s cock, the younger man’s moans helping stiffen things already for Deacon, too, much to his pleasant surprise.
Between his age and the diabetes, he still had the urge, but sometimes his body didn’t want to cooperate.
Seemed like Ryland had an effect on him, too, thankfully.
It didn’t take long before he had Ryland fully erect again, and begging for relief.
Even slut last weekend hadn’t had this kind of effect on Deacon, and Deacon had been more than satisfied with that man’s attentions.
I’ll have to ask Kent not to invite us to the same parties as that guy for a while, if this works out between us.
What was he saying? Hell, if this worked out between them, he wouldn’t be looking for action outside of Ryland.
Which brought him to another point he realized needed addressing. He lifted his head from Ryland’s cock. “I know it’s kind of mean to negotiate in the middle of giving head, but we need to settle something else right now.”
Ryland lifted his head to look at him, gorgeous desperation painted across his features. “What, Daddy?”
“When I’m with a guy, like, as in a relationship, I don’t do casual sex—or any sex—with anyone else. No playing around, no blow jobs, nothing. I’m monogamous. Nothing against swingers, and that’s fun when I’m single, but I don’t cheat. That’s a deal breaker for me.”
“Sounds good to me, Daddy. I wouldn’t want anyone but you anyway. Seriously, please don’t stop!”
Deacon smiled. “To clarify—”
“No sex or play with anyone but Daddy. Got it. Good with it. Please?”
He chuckled. “You are seriously screwed if I’ve got you hooked in this soon, baby.” He swiped his tongue around the head of Ryland’s cock. “I haven’t even started breaking out the big guns yet.”
“Oh. My. God!” Ryland made another of those delicious shivers. “Then you’d better get busy, Daddy, because you’ve got a boy who has a lot of catching up to do.”
“Mmm. Pushy boys get Daddy’s belt. Again.”
“Was that a threat or a promise? Because I’m good with it either way.”
Laughter rolled from Deacon. He climbed back up Ryland’s body so he could kiss him, loving how the guy was clinging to him and needy, eagerly humping against him. “I can see someone’s going to get regular spankings.”
“Oooh, pick me, Daddy! Please?”
* * * *
Yes, it was crazy and borderline scary-obsessive to already be thinking of a future with this guy, but if Deacon was good with it, so was Ry.
He wanted to go home with him, try to charm his daughter into liking him, teach his granddaughter how to bake cookies and cupcakes.
Couldn’t stop thinking about curling up on the couch together to watch TV, or snuggling in bed with him.
Yeah, the sex was crazy-hot. Best of his life, no lie there.
It was his presence, though.
Not just Deacon’s body, but his soul. It felt like the man was anchored there with him and wasn’t going anywhere. Like his mind was fully focused on what they were doing, and Ry wasn’t trying to compete with a Facebook feed, or texts from friends, or anything else.
Like this was meant to be.
Their bodies fit perfectly together, too. He was just a hair ta
ller than Deacon, but Deacon probably had a good fifty pounds on him, was built stockier.
“How do you feel about motorcycles?” Deacon asked.
“Never rode one, but I’m willing to ride behind you.”
“Oooh, you can ride bitch with Daddy.”
Ryland hooked a leg around Deacon’s and ground against him. “I’ll be Daddy’s little bitch.”
Next thing he knew, Deacon had pounced on him, rolling him onto his back and crushing his lips in a soul-melting kiss that had him whimpering for relief for his throbbing cock.
“Fuck, that’s so goddamned hot,” Deacon gasped. “You are fucking hot.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I agreed to be yours.”
Deacon froze, and for a moment, Ryland wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then Deacon nuzzled noses with him. “I definitely want more than tonight with you,” Deacon said. “I want to see where this might go for us. I’m not bullshitting you when I say this feels…different. Good different.”
“So it’s not just me?”
Deacon slowly shook his head. “No. It’s not just you.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. “What comes next then?” Ryland asked.
Deacon cupped Ryland’s cheek with his hand. “I’m going to see if I can fuck another one out of you tonight. That’d be a personal best for me.”
He grinned, and Ryland turned his face so he could suck Deacon’s fingers into his mouth.
“Then let’s get busy, Daddy. This boy is desperately overdue for a good dose of Daddy’s cock.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Ryland awakened tightly snuggled in Deacon’s arms, exactly where he’d been when he’d collapsed from exhaustion at some point early in the dark morning hours after midnight.
Not only had Deacon hit a personal best, he’d rooted through the assortment of provided loaner toys, found a prostate massager, and had proceeded to milk a third one out of Ryland like that.
I think I just found a new addiction.
Nothing had ever felt as good or as intense as that. He’d seen it done in porn videos, sure, but he’d thought the guy’s reactions were hammed up to a certain extent for the camera.
He never imagined it really did feel that much better than just stroking one out or fucking someone.
It wasn’t only the pleasure he felt when Deacon did it, it was seeing the sheer, giddy joy in the man’s features as he watched Ryland come. Like Deacon wasn’t happy unless he was making Ry feel good in the process.
First time Ryland had ever had a partner that personally vested in his pleasure. Sure, he’d had conscientious partners before, but never to this level.
There was the Dom, and the Daddy. And the Dom was also Daddy, but with a steel edge under the leather and denim, a soothing hand that eased the pain away immediately after arrival.
A sensual sadist, but a sadist nonetheless.
They hadn’t even made it into the guest bedroom, instead falling asleep right there in the playroom on that bed.
Ryland hoped they hadn’t pissed anyone off by hogging the space all night. He supposed if they needed to move someone certainly would have come and told them before now.
Next to him, Deacon stirred, stretching, then hooking his arm around him and snuggling in close. “Daddy needs go-juice,” he mumbled.
Ryland actually didn’t want to move. The man was fucking adorable, and he wished he could freeze this moment in time forever. “By that I guess you mean coffee, Daddy?”
“Yeah. Must. Have. Go-juice.”
“How do you take it? I believe I smell some brewing.”
“Milk only. No sweetener or sugar. I’m a diabetic.”
Ryland sat up. “Whoa. Do you need to check your sugar?”
Deacon cracked an eye open and stared at him. “You just channeled my daughter. Thank you, boner-killer.”
“No, you don’t understand. One of our cashiers is a severe diabetic. She’s crashed her blood sugar three different times now on shifts. Scared the crap out of us the first time it happened. Now we know the signs to look for and make her test her sugar before and during shifts.”
He grumbled. “It’s in my bag. Small black zipper case. Just bring the whole thing.”
“Do you need insulin or something?”
“I take a once-a-day at night. Took it last night before our final round, while you were in the bathroom.”
Ryland got out of bed, found the kit, and brought it back to Deacon. He watched while he stuck his left pinky, and a moment later, the results displayed.
“There. One-fifteen. That’s fine, for now. Coffee, please.”
Ry leaned in and kissed Deacon, but when he tried to get up, Deacon caught his arm and pulled him in for another kiss. “And thank you for caring,” Deacon added.
“Well, that’s kind of important to know, man. Anything else I need to know? Allergies or medications or anything like that?”
“No, just that. Haven’t had it long. Not to this extent. Finally needing to be medicated for it, I mean. I have a family history of it. I was lucky it didn’t present sooner. You?”
“Nope. I’m just…me. No allergies that I’m aware of, no medications. My blood pressure sometimes gets a little high at the doctor’s office, but any time I check it at the grocery store, it’s always normal, so they said I probably have that thing where you get nervous at the doctor.”
“White-coat syndrome.”
“Yeah, that. If they wait and take my blood pressure again at the end of the appointment, it’s almost always normal, or at least lower than it was before.”
After hitting the bathroom, Ryland found a pair of shorts in his bag and pulled them on. Remembering to flip the lever on the playroom lock, he headed out in search of coffee, just milk.
Tim and Paul were in the kitchen and broadly smiled when they spotted him. “I take it the evening was a stunning success?” Tim asked.
Ry grinned. “I don’t know, we’re still technically working on the evening, I think. And so far, I’d say it’s going damned good. Daddy asked for coffee, though.”
“Oooh,” both men said, teasing. Paul added, “Calling him Daddy already. That’s a good start.”
“I sure hope so.”
“We’re going to have breakfast soon,” Tim said. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“I’ll have to ask Daddy.”
The men grinned again. “Ooooh!” they said in unison, making Ry laugh.
He fixed Deacon’s coffee, and his own while he was at it, then headed back, careful not to spill any on his way. Deacon was sitting up in bed and scrolling through his cell phone when Ry rejoined him.
“They said breakfast is soon, and we’re invited to join them.”
“Excellent.” He sipped his coffee. “Thank you, boy.” He leaned in for a kiss.
“You’re welcome, Daddy.”
Deacon froze, and Ry had another of those brief panics where he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Deacon said. “I love it when you call me that. But if outside the bedroom you want to call me by my name, or Sir, that’s okay, too. You can’t call me that in front of Del or Winter, because that’d be weird for Del and confusing for Winter.”
“What if I want to call you Daddy when we’re alone?”
Deacon set his mug down on the side table and took Ry’s from him. Then he swept him into his arms and kissed him again, this time slow and simmering, but every bit as sexy as the snogs they’d shared last night.
“Then I guess you’d better get used to calling me ‘Daddy’,” he said, his voice sounding a little choked up. “Because I sure as hell love hearing you say it.”
* * * *
Deacon didn’t know what it was about the guy, except that he seemed to fit perfectly into his life, like he was made to be there.
He’d never had such a close rapport with anyone like this before, not even after dating them for several week
s.
He’d never had hotter sex in his life, either, and he’d had some pretty damn hot sex in his time.
“You have your cell phone with you?” Deacon asked.
“Yeah? Why?”
“I want to exchange information right now, so we have it. Numbers and e-mails. Go get it, please.”
Ryland did, retrieving his cell from his bag and bringing it over. With that done, Deacon kissed him. “Guess the next thing is deciding when to see each other again.”
“I’m available any evening this week,” Ryland said. “Or tonight.”
“How about this afternoon?”
Ryland smiled. “Follow me home, Daddy?”
Deacon grinned. “You read my mind, baby.”
By late Sunday night, when Deacon finally returned home, he was exhausted—more exhausted than he’d felt in a while—but he also felt lighter than he had in…ever.
They were going to go out together tomorrow night after Ry got off work and Del retrieved Winter. Deacon was going to pick him up—and probably end up staying late after.
If he was lucky.
Very lucky.
* * * *
Over the next couple of weeks, Ryland was starting to think maybe he lived a charmed life after all. He and Deacon were seeing each other nearly every day now, and he finally got to meet Winter yesterday. Deacon had Winter for an overnight, because Del was working late last night just to turn around again and go in early today.
Thus he’d invited Ry over for dinner, and to spend time with them.
Winter was fucking adorable, with her grandfather’s eyes and the hint of the same stubborn ways running through her brain. She was going to be a handful.
As the weeks ticked by, Deacon had Ry over more often, and Ry started coming up with recipes for Winter to cook with them. A new ritual they’d started was Ry reading to her after dinner, or helping her with a game or puzzle, something fun like that, while Deacon sat back and smiled as he watched them together.
Ry was no dummy. He knew exactly what the man was doing—making sure the most important woman in his life was going to get along with him.
Simple Man, Simple Dream Page 5
