Page 33 of Finding His Silver Fox Daddy

He didn’t force me, didn’t even apply any pressure. He just held his finger underneath my chin to steady me, assure me he was there. Just like a Daddy would.

When I dragged my eyes past the multitude of tattoos on his chest that I definitely wanted to study later and met his gaze, he leaned in to kiss my forehead. “There. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

I nodded when he pulled away, catching his gaze. It was time to make tonight’s fantasy a reality. “I’ll be the best boy for you, Daddy.”

He shivered at the title, and I smiled to myself. “Fuck.” Pulling away slightly, he pressed his lips to mine. “I love that word on your lips.”

“I’m glad, Daddy.”

He growled, quite possibly the sexiest sound I’d ever heard in my life, and shifted us so he could claim my mouth again. We made out through the rest of the shibari session, during the next set of music pounding through the subwoofers, and even through the flogging demonstration probably twenty minutes later, the rhythmic slapping a soundtrack to our desire. I loved it. Henry’s mouth on mine was magic, sending sparkles and fireworks exploding inside me every second I was breathing him in.

Somehow I’d ended up straddling him again, but I wasn’t sure how or when. I definitely wasn’t complaining—sitting in Henry’s lap was becoming my new favorite thing. All I knew was that I could feel him against me. Feel his . . .

Holy fucking shit.

I was sure I’d felt his hard dick beneath me earlier, and I’d convinced myself I was imagining how big it was. But now, with it pressing into mine through our minimal clothes, I could feel the wide girth of it, the long length . . . fuck—that thing had to be massive.

My asshole fluttered greedily. Goddammit, I wanted him.

My own dick was straining against my impossibly tight shorts, and I found myself glad they were secured with a tie at the side instead of a zipper. I would’ve had permanent zipper teeth marks by now.

“Daddy,” I breathed when he released me only long enough for us to catch our breath.

“What, my sweet boy?”

I stared into his eyes, wishing I could see the color. This light made it impossible. “I’d like to get out of here. With you. For, you know, sex.”

Henry threw his head back and laughed, but I didn’t miss that he chugged the rest of his IPA—that’s what he said he’d gotten this time—and moved to exit the booth. He pulled me along with him until he was standing, cupping my barely covered ass, my legs curled around his waist.

“My place?”

I loved that he offered. I’d often wondered where the enigmatic Henry lived. “That’d be perfect.”

We arrived sooner than I thought. After another steamy kiss, Henry set me down then led me through the back, out into the warm night, and into a freestanding brownstone-style home only a few doors down from the bar. Wide windows dominated the third and fourth floors, and I couldn’t wait to see the view from them.

I wasn’t disappointed.

I gasped as he led me into his darkened bedroom suite, which made up the entire top floor. The countless flights of stairs to get up here had been worth it. “Oh, Henry,” I breathed, inches away from the glass wall of windows as I untied my ankle boots and pulled them off. His room overlooked the orange and white lights of the city interrupted only by patches of darkness that I knew were hills, trees, and water. “This must be gorgeous during the day.”

I felt the warmth of his body along my back before his hand snaked around my waist and he pulled me against his nearly bare chest. He stood barefoot behind me. “It is. I’ll show you, if you’ll stay.”

My heart stuttered at his implied request. Wasn’t staying over too much? I’d only promised him tonight. Was this how a person acted with a one-night stand? Was that what I wanted with Henry?

Okay, so this thing with Henry, whatever it was, would never be a one-night stand. I didn’t have much experience with relationships—none, in fact—but even I knew this was more.

So maybe I could stay, just this once. I’d never stayed until morning with a hookup before, but this was Henry, for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t a nameless man I’d met on Daddy’s Boy. He was the man of my dreams, as goddamn scary as that was to admit. But still . . . would he think tonight meant something more if I did?

Ugh. My mind was swirling, and the whole point of calling Henry my Daddy tonight was letting go, allowing him to take over.

Fuck it.

Shaky decision made, I spun in his arms, placing my palms on the tattoo of a bird on his right pec and above an unrecognizable, almost branch-like design snaking around the left side of his torso as I gazed up at him, the light of the moon casting deep shadows on his stunning face. “You want me to stay?”

He nodded somberly. “Of course. If you’ll have me.”

“Henry, shit.” I blinked, letting his words flow over me like a rushing stream and take my indecision and fear with them. For the next twelve hours or so, I was going all in.

So I said what was on my mind. On my heart. “I . . . I can’t believe that I’m here. That we’re here.”