Page 66 of Naughty November

He shot to his feet.

“Good boy. Now raise your arms and let’s get this t-shirt off so I can dress you the way I want to, pretty thing.”

He blushed again, but did what I’d asked him to, standing before me completely naked other than the cage on his cock.

“Oh fuck, baby,” I breathed out, forgetting my plan for a moment. “You’re perfect.”

“What? No. I?—”

“Shhh,” I cut him off. “That’s not up for debate, Holden. Do you still want me to touch you?”

“Yesssssss,” he breathed out, pupils blown wide.

“Dress you up?”

His blush deepened. “Um, okay.”

I tipped his chin up, stroking his plump lower lip. “Make you come for me?”

He whined, his hips rocking forward in an answer all of their own.

I leaned down, ghosting my lips over his mouth, along his jaw, all the way to his ear.

“I can do all of that for you,” I whispered, a promise I intended to keep. “But if you change your mind?—”

“I won’t!” he burst out.

I chuckled, sliding a hand down his long, slim back to cup his plump little ass, now that I definitely had permission to touch.

“But if you do,” I said, giving it a squeeze. “Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, drawing in a ragged breath. “Please, Fletch. Please don’t stop. I don’t want it to end.”

I groaned. It was probably just pent-up lust that made him say it. He didn’t want it to end until he came.

But I wanted more.

I wanted him to mean it.

I’d never realized Holden was an option, that he was the one I should have been waiting for all along, but I did now… and I didn’t want this to end, either.

I wanted to keep him.

SIX

HOLDEN

Naked except for the cock cage, pressed up against Fletcher with his hand on my ass and his hot breath sending sparks of white-hot need through my blood as it gusted over my neck was not a position I ever thought I’d find myself in.

But if I could stay just like this, pretty much forever, I would have.

Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately?—I’d promised him something else.

“Good boy,” he murmured, which felt the best kind of demeaning.

I wasn’t a boy. I was a grown man now.

But maybedemeaningwasn’t the right word for the trembling heat that hearing him say it like that put in my belly. It made me feel… submissive.