Page 93 of Knox's Boy

I let him finish. When at last he capped the pen, I returned to the table, reading the page over his shoulder.

"Beautiful," I murmured, genuinely impressed by his careful attention to detail.

He grinned, a little proud to have pleased me. "Are we done now?"

"Almost. You must say them to me." I tapped the lines with two fingers. "Out loud. While looking me in the eye."

He wriggled on the table but did as he was told. His voice was thin at first but grew stronger with each repetition. By the final round, he was speaking with a quiet conviction.

I cupped his jaw when he finished, tilting his face up to mine. "That's my good boy." I kissed him, slow and deep, until he melted in my grip. "Let’s see if you can remember to practice them from now on," I murmured into his mouth.

"I will," he vowed. "Promise."

Chapter 39. Knox

I woke to the gentle pressure of lips against my forehead, unusual enough to pull me from sleep. Sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains. Something smelled divine. I blinked as Florian's face came into focus above me.

"Happy birthday, Daddy!"

I pushed myself up against the pillows, still caught in that space between sleep and full awareness. My internal clock told me it was earlier than my usual 6:30 AM rising time, a surprise in itself, as Florian typically slept until at least eight.

He stepped back from the bed, revealing the full tableau he'd arranged. In his hands was a wooden breakfast tray laden with coffee, fresh croissants, sliced fruit arranged in a fan pattern, and what appeared to be perfectly prepared eggs Benedict, our favorite. Beside the tray stood a crystal vase filled with roses and hydrangeas from our garden. But it was Florian himself that truly caught my attention. He was completely naked save for two satin bows, one tied around his throat, a deep blue that matched his eyes, and another wrapped around his already hard cock.

I felt my face soften as I took in the scene before me. "You went to all this trouble," I murmured, voice still rough with sleep.

"Of course I did! It's for you!" he replied, excited and proud. "Mrs. Gable helped with the hollandaise," he admitted. "But I did the rest. And Paulo let me pick flowers if I promised not to ruin his pruning."

He carefully placed the tray on the bedside table and handed me a handmade card, the front decorated with what appeared to be a watercolor painting of the view from our bedroom window. When had he learned to paint?

For the man who gave me everything, including a reason to wake up at 4 AM. Happy birthday, Daddy. All my love, Your Boy.

I set the card beside the tray, my chest tight. "Come here," I said, my voice rough with feeling.

Florian approached the bed.

"I'm your present! As I figured I couldn't possibly buy anything you didn't have…" he said, stopping at the edge of the bed, close enough to touch. "You can unwrap me before breakfast. It might get cold, but…"

I laughed then. I reached out, hooking my finger under the bow at his throat, and tugged him forward onto the bed. He tumbled onto me with a small yelp that dissolved into giggles as I rolled us, pinning him beneath me.

"The most beautiful gift," I murmured, trailing my fingers down his chest to the second bow. "And so thoughtfully wrapped."

He squirmed beneath my touch, his body responding instantly. "Do you like it?" he asked.

Instead of answering with words, I kissed him deeply, my hand sliding down to gently tug at the lower bow. It came undone, the ribbon sliding away. He gasped against my mouth.

"I love it," I said against his lips. "I love you."

His arms came around my neck, pulling me closer as I shifted to settle between his thighs. I was already hard, my pants doing little to conceal my arousal.

“I love you too, Daddy,” he said.

"Let me taste you first," I said, moving down his body, pressing kisses to his collarbone, his nipples, the slight ridges of his ribs. He whimpered, his fingers threading into my hair as I moved lower still.

When I took him in my mouth, he arched off the bed with a gasp that turned into a moan. I savored him, taking my time, using my tongue and lips to draw out those exquisite sounds. The bow around his neck had loosened but remained in place, blue against his flushed skin.

I reached for the lubricant we kept in the nightstand. When I pressed one finger inside him, he bucked, his body caught between the dual sensations.

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, Daddy, I need you."