Page 54 of Daddy's Pride

“Same. Would you do it again?”

“With you? In a heartbeat.” But will we get the chance? I have to leave tomorrow. We have to say goodbye. I sob.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to go. This week has been perfect.” I sound pathetic.

“It has. Goodbye doesn’t have to be forever.”

I sniff. “I know.”

I close my eyes and soak up his caring affection. Enjoy the feel of his softening cock and his cum inside me. I’m his.

Chapter 12

Miles

It’s Monday afternoon. It’s been grey and dismal in the week since Harris went home, but I haven’t been idle. He sent me the photos he took, the videos he made, and a schedule of what I should post and when. He’s given me instructions on building buzz on social media and a list of photos I should ask a professional to take. He finished the logo, which I adore. Thanks to Harris, I have everything I need to make the Open Arms Activity Centre a reality. He’s the reason I became excited by it again. The reason I haven’t given up on my dream.

I’ve researched local businesses and contacted them to see if they’re willing to support my opening weekend. I was surprised at how many offered to help for free once they knew profits from the weekend would be going to LGBTQ+ charities. I’ve got a face painter, caterer, and entertainer booked, along with promises of freebies and fliers to put in goodie bags from several other companies.

I booked a meeting with my bank manager to discuss a small business loan and contacted three builders who are coming to give me quotes. I want to knock down the dilapidated hostel and have a toilet and shower block built on the same site. My last job has been researching different styles of glamping pods and tents. Between daydreaming about Harris, that is.

I can still remember how his body felt, pressed to mine. The tickle of his stubble. The smoothness of his skin. The heat of his arse around my cock as grass played across my skin. The smell of his sweat and desire. The thud of his heart as we lay together, speaking and kissing late into the night. The desperation of our final kiss.

I miss him.

I check my watch. It’s six. Will he have finished work? I text him, asking how his day was, like I did every day last week. I abandon my research in favor of cooking but return to it while I eat. The styles, sizes, and prices vary wildly. It feels strange to be doing all this stuff without Harris. I can’t help but imagine what he’d say about each one. His eyes would be bright, and his enthusiasm would be contagious.

My phone rings. Harris. I grin and answer.

“Hello, boy.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

“How was your day?”

“Okay.”

I press my lips together and take a moment to contemplate my response. “Just okay?”

“Yeah, you know. Work is work.”

“Did Nigel hassle you?”

“No.”

“Pile too much work on you?”

Harris laughs. “He always does that, Daddy. I’m used to it.”

He shouldn’t have to be.

“Tell me about your day,” he says.

I tell him everything I’ve done.

“Wow. You’re going to have the activity centre open in no time.”