Page 28 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 1
For so many years, I was both aloneandlonely, all because I didn’t realizethisis what I need. Thisman—this perfect, emotional, complicated man.
Ian pulls my face down to his for a kiss. As soon as our lips touch, we go from zero to sixty in the space of a heartbeat. Our lips collide and caress, our tongues tangle and tease. Both of our cocks are fully erect and straining together, hungry for touch.
I kiss my way down the column of his throat, across his chest, to first one nipple and then the other, and all the while he’s breathing like he’d run a marathon, excited, aroused, needing more. My lips travel down his abdomen, stopping long enough to tease his belly button with swirls of my tongue. He’s squirming now, impatient for what he knows is coming. What hewantsso badly.
I nip at his pelvis bones. I bury my nose at the base of his cock and breathe in the smell of warm male mixed with a hint of his beloved bubble-gum scented body wash. That always makes me smile.
The sight of his straining penis is too good to pass up, so I take him in my mouth, draw him in deep to the back of my throat. With one hand, I squeeze the base of his cock, while my other hand massages his sac. The whimpers and moans coming from him make me even harder.
I bring him right to the edge and then back off. He growls in frustration because I denied him an orgasm, but we both know it’s way too soon. Instead, I grip his chin and look him in the eye. I drop my voice an octave, letting himhearmy arousal. “I’m going to fuck you first, baby. You can come when I do.”
Eyes wide, Ian swallows hard as he nods.
“You’remine, Ian.”
Nodding, he sucks in a breath. “Yes. God, yes.” His breathing is shallow now, rapid, as his chest rises and falls in anticipation. His cheeks are flushed, his nostrils flaring. Still grasping his chin, I lean down and devour his mouth. He kisses me back just as hungrily.
When he starts making sounds of need and want, I roll him over and tuck a pillow beneath his hips. I reach for the lube and take my time gently preparing him and driving up his arousal in the process. I stroke him with my finger, teasing him, easing the way, opening him up for me.
Once I think he’s ready for more, I slowly press into him, a bit at a time, coaxing his body to accept me. It’s a slow, teasing process, invoking lots of pleasured groans from the both of us.
Once I’ve worked my entire length inside, he sighs, clutching his pillow as he breathes slow and easy. I cover his body with mine, draping myself over him and pinning him to the mattress as I lift my hips and rock into him, slowly at first, gently, until he’s relaxed enough to take me easily. Each time my cock strokes his prostate, he moans.
The pillow beneath him allows me enough room to reach underneath him, take hold of his sac, and gently massage his balls. He grasps his erection and strokes himself in time to my thrusts. When we come, we’ll come together.
“Tyler.” His voice is a plaintive plea. The sounds he’s making tell me how much he’s enjoying this. How good it feels.
“I know. Hang on, baby. Soon.”
I continue thrusting, stroking him inside, until he can’t hold on any longer. “Tyler, I’m—” And his words are choked off as he cries out, his voice loud and raw. When his body strains and bucks, I follow him, and we come together.
Sometime later—I’ve lost track of time, we lie side by side, both of us heated and breathing hard, until the night air cools our skin and our heart rates return to normal.
I hold him. We hold each other. And if I had to guess, I’d say we’re both grateful to be alive.
* * *
Later that night, back in our bedroom, I hold Ian in bed until his breathing deepens and slows. When he drifts off to sleep, I finally give myself a chance to relax for the first time all evening. I try to keep the memories at bay, but my brain keeps reliving the accident, over and over. My brain insists on going over all thewhat-ifs.What ifI hadn’t gotten Ian out of the path of that car?What ifhe’d been hurt more seriously?What ifone of us had died?
Stop it.
Youdidpull him to safety. You’llalwayspull him to safety.
I guess it’s my turn to freak out a bit. I close my eyes and force my brain to think of other things.
When Ian shifts in his sleep, pressing closer to me, I tighten my hold on him.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you, too.”
And if that isn’t the understatement of the year, I don’t know what is.
Epilogue
Ian
Six weeks later
