Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Aidan sat on the bed and patted his lap. I lay across him and felt his erection, which made me shake. He shushed me and rubbed his hand over my bare ass. God, I loved it when he touched me this way, when he gave me the security of his touch. I wished he would slip his fingers between my cheeks and tease my hole before fucking me with them…and then I wanted him to hold me down and force his cock into me. I wanted to be fucked by Aidan so badly; not by the dildo I used when he allowed it, but by him.
I rutted against him, and a sharp, stinging slap came down on my left cheek. “Be good. Don’t make me take away your reward already.”
“Yes, Aidan. I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll be good.”
“I know you will. Now be as still as possible.”
Another smack of the brush hit down on my other cheek, then the first again. The pain was more intense and sharp than that of his hand, but I knew he was going easy on me, I knew it would get worse.
He hit me in that pattern I knew was to protect me. Aidan would always keep me safe. The burn traveled around my ass, biting worse with each blow. It started out snappy and became severe. I did my best to be still. My cock was hard, and tears poured down my face. I was crying loudly, my sounds mixing with the smack of the brush against my skin.
“I’m sorry I was bad. I’ll be good for you! Always want to be good for you!” I cried harder, and he spanked harder.
“You can do this, Finley. Take your punishment until I decide you’ve had enough. If you can’t, if it’s too much, use your colors—yellow and red—but I think you can take more.”
I wanted to make him proud. Wanted to take exactly how much he thought I could, so I didn’t tell him to stop. Tears mixed with snot, running down my face, getting on my arm and the bed, but as I hurt for him, as I lay there crying, something about my tears cleansed me. Made me feel less heavy and burdened, as if they were washing away pain I didn’t know I had.
Then he wasn’t spanking me anymore. He was lifting me, holding me as I straddled him, kissing my temple and telling me how proud he was of me, that I was his good boy. My ass rubbed against his jeans, more welcome pain from him.
“You did so well, precious boy. Sweet warrior boy. You have pleased me so very much.”
Thank you, whispered through my mind, but I couldn’t make the words come out. Couldn’t form them or any others on my tongue, but they were there, in my head. I love you. Thank you for caring about me. For punishing me.
I cried until there were no tears left inside me. Aidan held me the whole time. He wiped them away, didn’t seem to mind that snot was mixed with them. And when I finally settled down, he lifted my hand and spit in it. “Jerk yourself off. You deserve it.”
I was still on his lap, being held by him. He had never let me come this way. I did as he said and wrapped a hand around my cock. I hardly got three good strokes in before my balls emptied, shooting my load all over my chest and Aidan’s shirt. I loved seeing my cum on him and wished he would mark me with his—all over my face, in my mouth, on my chest and ass. Every inch of me.
Aidan used his fingers to scoop my load from my skin. I opened my mouth, let him drop it inside, then licked my jizz from his fingers, smiling.
“You look proud of yourself,” he whispered, petting my hair.
“I’m proud to be yours. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He kissed my temple again, my forehead, petted my hair. I felt weightless as he maneuvered me on the bed, as he checked my ass, his fingers dancing across the skin. I knew he would take care of me, which he did, and then he lay down with me and held me until my world went black…maybe even longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Aidan
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Blood was all over the front of me, up to my elbows, the red mixing with the blue of my gloves and protective wear. I stood in front of the sink, willing my fucking hands to quit trembling, but they wouldn’t. No matter what, I couldn’t get them to fucking stop.
They had been rock steady during surgery. Precise. Urgent. Skilled.
It hadn’t been enough.
I hadn’t been enough.
“You did all you could, Dr. Kingsley,” Lance, one of the trauma nurses, said.