Island daddy destination.., p.15
Island Daddy (Destination Daddies), page 15
Candace rolls her eyes in the similar fashion she did at the hospital. “We aren’t invalids,” she snaps. “It’s not even a fourth of a mile around the corner.”
My Island Daddy bites his tongue, as I can tell he wants to sass back. “I figured Kragen’s condition requires special consideration,” he replies graciously. “Besides, it’s one in the morning, Mrs. Darling,” he adds, shooting me a wink. “You ready, kiddo?”
I nod, paying attention to the glint from a hallway light dancing around his pupils. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The short ride to Reid’s property afforded me time to gather my internal thoughts. Almost as if my brain needed re-compartmentalized, like I remember older generations would say whenever they had computer issues. “Maybe you need to run a defrag.” Yet nobody ever liked performing them, because they took half of a fucking century to complete.
I don’t think I have the mental fortitude to confess what I’ve been assigned to do. My feelings for the man I’m being paid to expose to the world, are far deeper than any amount of money. And it’s clear to me now. The kiss and reassurance of his deep feelings for me in front of the elevator, pretty much seal the deal.
Climbing the floors to his private living quarters has my emotions on the precipice of flattery. Reid’s strong arm is wrapped tightly around me, almost supporting the ache in my back. Since I’ve just wished my family goodnight as they each located their private suites, I’m left to contend with the last ten percent of my mental defrag. Though, hunger has overpowered my ability to think with such clarity.
“Reid,” I blurt aloud in his elevator. “I’m absolutely starving,” I admit, grabbing my gurgling tummy.
An elevator ding announces our arrival to the hotel’s penthouse level, all the while Reid catches my stare. “Okay then,” he says, bending forward to lift my suitcase. “You wait right out here while I toss your luggage in my closet, then I’ll take you down for some grub.”
I nod in agreement. “Sure,” I reply. “With my decrepit body, I couldn’t get very far if I tried running away.”
Daddy Reid chuckles lightly on his way inside the door. Not but a minute later, he returns to the small vestibule to summon the elevator again. The man’s visage is alight with admiration, as he scoops me up in his arms. He carries me back into the chamber, pressing on a button to whisk us back downstairs.
“What are you in the mood for?” He asks, his warm breath bouncing from my neck. “I’m no Emeril Lagasse or anything,” he adds, licking my earlobe. “But I know how to fire up the flat-top in our kitchen and toss a couple of steaks on.”
A smile warms my face. Certainly half of this relief is because I’m about to eat for the first time in God only knows how long. As for the other, I’m quite enjoying this level of pampering. If this is what it’ll be like in his constant care, then a bitch better sign me up.
Being born to lesbian mothers hasn’t been all that bad. But having a Daddy to hold me in his arms, showing me what it’s like to have my needs put before his own? Well, this feels like I’ve won the jackpot of a lifetime. Fuck the lottery system. Daddy Reid is more than just money. His heart is that prize at the bottom of a cereal box.
“A steak would be just fine,” I admit, tracing the outline of his ear. “I think whatever that doctor gave me is causing my stomach to knot up with hunger.”
He nods. “Yes,” he says. “Dr. Davis gave you a shot of Toradol, so that explains it.”
Downstairs, Reid gently places me on the stainless steel countertop of his hotel’s commercial kitchen. He points up a forefinger, briefly leaving my line of sight to step inside a walk-in cooler. At least it feels like a cooler, judging by a whoosh of frigid air wafting around the corner. Not but a minute later, he returns with two objects wrapped in brown paper.
“Is a sixteen-ounce too big for my little Banana Boy?” He asks, shooting another grin while powering-on the grill. “Me thinks you need a little protein brewing in that sac of yours.”
That couldn’t have been any more of a subtle yet flagrant sexual innuendo. If he thinks I’m in any shape to fuck like rabbits, then it’ll take a lot more than some strong anti-inflammatory to make me forget about the pain for even a minute. But, there’s no way I can have anything stronger than Tylenol and Motrin.
I smirk in kind, scratching the nape of my neck. “I think in a usual instance, that’s about half a pound too much,” I reply, caressing my tummy. “But in this moment, I could probably eat the whole damn cow.”
“That’s a good boy,” Reid mutters, unwrapping the steaks from their wrappers. “As for vegetables, I’d likely slice my fingers plumb off if I had to use that big of a knife,” he adds, winking.
His reply sends a small reminder back to this morning, when he tried frying bacon in his birthday suit. Or was that yesterday? My God, I really need to shake this fog out already. A deep laugh falls from my lips.
“That tracks,” I reply, batting my eyelashes. “Kind of like forgetting how incredibly hot bacon grease gets when it crackles in the pan.”
Reid seems to be reminded of the burns I treated on his naked belly, lifting his shirt to glance at them in the process. “Yeah—erm—” he stammers. “I’m lost in the kitchen without Luka.”
I motion him closer to me with my two gestured fingers. “Let me see if they’re healing,” I respond, grimacing. “You’re taking such good care of me, and here I am not remembering to check your burns.”
After tossing our steaks onto the heated grill, he sidesteps in front of my dangling legs over the countertop. “Don’t worry, little boy,” he murmurs, supporting both sides of my neck as if it’s a precious chalice. “Your memory is a little fucked up from the fall.”
What fall? When did that happen? I thought I was taken to the medical facility because of my back pain.
“I fell?” I ask, confused as fuck.
Daddy nods. “Yes,” he replies. “And you roughed up that noggin of yours quite badly,” he adds. “That’s why Dr. Davis said we need to monitor you for a progressing concussion.”
Now I vaguely remember the doctor saying that. To be honest, I’d been far more concerned about the indirect tiff between Reid and Candace. I lean my head into his stomach, reaching both arms around this robust waistline.
“Ohh,” I say. “I’m sure everything will come back to me eventually.”
Reid gently pats my shoulder blades, accepting my warm hug. “Yes—they—” he stammers again. “They will,” he adds, emphasizing the last word.
I pull back, raising my stare straight into his. Those eyes are ablaze with more fervor than the ring of fire. It would be nice if my back pain subsided, so that Daddy Reid can plunge my eager hole again. And if it wouldn’t result in a world of hurt, I’d remove my shorts right here and now. His strong hands could graze my entire naked body from neck to cock. Then I could feel the thunderous heart rate pounding through his twitching dick slid straight up inside me.
In a perfect universe, he’d fuck me to completion while our steaks sizzled to a perfect degree. Followed by a glass of champagne with strawberries and whipped cream. But I shudder to imagine I’d be able to consciously accept such an advance, when I feel the incredible guilt of withholding my identity. What I am. Why I’m risking unemployment if I don’t follow through.
Reid leans forward, following my torso’s journey up against the kitchen backsplash. “Don’t run away from my tongue, little boy,” he grunts mildly. “You can’t outrun me, remember?” He adds, sliding a hand between my thighs.
My cock instantly thuds while his fingers trace the outline of my growing bulge. Not a split-second later, his tongue dives into my mouth. It tastes every bit like a pineapple, reminding me that it’s his signature flavor. Fuck, that’s his undeclared moniker. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Fairchild crest was adorned with such a tropical fruit. My lips form a seal against his, all the while his hand blindly contends with the button and zipper of my shorts.
“Ohhhh,” I moan insatiably, thirsty for a taste of his sweet nectar. “Deliver me into oblivion, Daddy,” I add, wincing. “I wanna forget about this pain, if even for a few minutes.”
That appears to have caught his cock’s attention, as my hand can feel a pitched tent beneath the fabric of his shorts. Our lips fray briefly, long enough for him to whisper sweet nothings. Yet, my conscience doesn’t seem like this is appropriate. Almost as if I’m still hung up by guilt like it’s an executioner tightening a noose.
A husky groan cloaks Reid’s response. “You’re just hungry for Daddy’s protein, aren’t you boy?” He murmurs, his teeth clenching my earlobe ever so slightly.
“Mmmmmm,” I moan, this time with a tinge of hesitation. “I have to confess something that’s bothering me,” I reply hastily, pushing him away to study the solemnity in his expression. “And I don’t want you to get upset, because I honestly think I can help you before it’s too late.”
His tight grip around my wrist tells me he’s already about to get upset, and I haven’t even arrived at the punchline. “I know, little boy,” he replies with a shaken head. “And from the bottom of my heart, I forgive you—” he adds, swallowing a hard gulp of air.
A short pause follows his reply. Here we go. I feel a ‘but’ coming on. This is the moment he walks out on me just like every other fuckdate on Grindr. At least this one lasted a while. And I suppose I’ll return home with quite the story. Which none of those fuckers in Grand Junction can say they’ve been locked up by chains in a celebrity’s playroom. Let alone gotten as far as a simple kiss with America’s Gay Sweetheart.
My lips contort with gritted teeth, bracing for the impact of what’s surely going to rip me apart. No sooner do I attempt finishing the words I imagine he’s going to say, when he hushes me with his index finger.
“But you must promise me one thing,” he mutters softly, caressing my cheek.
My vision grows wide. “Ooookayy?” I respond. “What’s that?”
Reid backs away slowly to fish the Maroon 5 shirt over his head, teeming with zeal. “You have to move down to Maui, so I can protect you and be your permanent Island Daddy,” he adds, tossing his shirt over a shoulder.
Another pause follows his persistent request. He’s quite adamant about being with me, isn’t he? And how does he know what I was about to confess? About the same moment I stew on how Reid could possibly understand my confession, my mind flashes back to a moment earlier tonight.
My press lanyard fell from the suitcase’s lid, moments before Reid bent forward to scoop it from the floor. He flashed me an uncertain look, as a dark shade of disappointment smattered his face. Now in this moment, seeing that cheerless expression he took earlier is another stark reminder. He didn’t have to say a goddamn thing for me to have gathered the fact that he’d caught wind of my occupation. Or what I am doing in paradise, if not solely for Tessa’s wedding.
Rolling my eyes to the side wall of Reid’s hotel kitchen, leaves me to wonder if we’ve already discussed this. If I’ve lost a whole day’s worth of events, then surely he’s leaving out some major detail for my own benefit. Or perhaps a degree of his own shame? My thoughts finish ruminating, when Reid’s smooth palm latches onto my chin.
Our stare locks with each other, as we hear footsteps followed by a melodic whistle flourishing from several feet behind Daddy. Someone’s about to walk in on us, and here we are at the prologue of a fervent exchange. A temporary fright washes Reid’s face. He scoops me back into his arms, nestling my aching body around the corner to their walk-in cooler.
My Island Daddy raises a finger to his lips. “Shhh, I’ll be right back.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
REID
Banana Boy sits as comfortably as he possibly can, among a heap of stacked crates. Save for the frigid chill causing him a sheath of goosebumps, he seems to be springing back to life with his usual fervor. I’m incredibly grateful that he’ll be okay. Seeing him unconscious on my bathroom floor upstairs isn’t something I care to witness again. Talk about giving Daddy a coronary, when he’s precisely in tip-top shape, himself.
My finger raises to shush him quietly, assuring the boy that I’ll be right back in to get him. I have no fucking clue who else has any business letting them into the hotel kitchen at precisely two in the morning. But they’re a damn fool if they think I won’t be laying into them for their intrusion. After all, not one other person in this building has their name on the side of it. Though it’s occurring to me in this moment that I’m shirtless. And my raging boner couldn’t be any more obvious.
A grunt escapes me, shouting with a hand at the side of my mouth. “Who’s there?” I call out, securing the walk-in.
The baritone reply shouts back before I have a chance to get a glimpse of him. “No, what do you think you’re doing in—” he pauses mid-sentence, catching sight of me from around the corner.
It’s only Leeroy, man. He won’t go spilling any tea. Now I can breathe a sigh of relief, realizing this interruption has been made possible by Kūhiō Beach’s premier security guard.
“Ohh it’s just you,” I blurt, wiping my brow with an arm. “I thought someone was breaking into the kitchen who didn’t belong in here.”
Leeroy offers me a raised brow. “It’s almost—” he says, rustling his watch for the time. “Half-past two in the morning,” he adds. “Why aren’t you getting your beauty sleep?”
I waste no time replying, yet my brain can’t seem to catch up from being startled. “I got hungry, so I came down to make a sandwich.”
He scans the kitchen, paying close attention to the pops and sizzles of mine and Kragen’s steaks on the flat-top. You big fucking liar, Reid. Best follow up with something believable now. Leeroy points in the direction of my tossed shirt, before I have a chance to save face.
“And why is your shirt on the floor?” He asks suspiciously.
A quick, hard swallow precedes my best attempt to cure the embarrassment. “It’s fucking hot in here,” I reply, shrugging. “Who do I gotta fuck to get them to make sure the A/C is working properly?”
Leeroy chuckles. “Judging by those two steaks probably already past medium-rare,” he says, pointing to the grill. “I’d say you’ve got that covered,” he adds, pounding his chest with the peace sign. “Is it that boy from the pictures on TikTok this last weekend—your secret’s safe with me, brother.”
I grit my teeth, all the while gesturing a hand as my silent way of telling him to shut the ever loving fuck up. But thanks for reminding me about that shitstorm, Leeroy. I’ve been too busy to speak with Veronica about the Sploosh article.
“No, I have Ambien brain right now and must’ve pulled out an extra steak,” I reply. When in doubt, always play the Roseanne card and blame it on the sleeping pills.
Leeroy snickers. “Ooookay,” he says, nodding his head. “I’ll leave you to both your steaks there, Mr. Fairchild, aloha,” he finishes, turning around to leave at once.
Another sigh of relief falls as I wave him off. “Aloha,” I shout, heading to the grill to flip the sirloins. I might as well just feed the boy, since these are too goddamned charred for my liking.
Fuck! Kragen, you dipshit! The poor guy must be an ice cube by now. I can finally unclench my nervous ass cheeks on the trail back to the cooler. Not that any harm has been done tonight, besides a small bout of embarrassment. As soon as the cold air graces my forehead, I shuffle back inside to lift my Banana Boy from the stack of crates.
“Is the coast clear?” He asks, appearing more shamed than I likely do. “I couldn’t hear too well, what with all these insulated walls,” he adds. “But it sounded like that guy knew you had a boy in here.”
Just how much DID you hear, little boy? Shit fuck, God damn it. I hoped to never show him that equally humiliating photograph.
I contend with my dry throat, whisking Kragen back out to his spot on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get some food in that belly, and I have something to show you.”
He grimaces. “Oh my God, what is it?”
No time is wasted retrieving two plates and utensils, before removing our overdone and dry meat. I wasn’t kidding about not having any sort of veggies or anything. I’m hardly adept to operate this grill, let alone use anything larger than a steak knife. Kragen simpers yet again at the sight of our burnt snack. God damn it! I hate disappointing a boy in distress and pain—or any other time for that matter.
My eyes roll with remorse. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I plead. “I fucked these up, but something in your belly is better than nothing at all,” I add, slicing him a bite of the least cooked strip. If that’s even possible.
“Open mister,” I command playfully, raising the fork to his beautiful lips.
He accepts the bite, chewing far more than he should ever have to. I’ll bet it’s like eating a hunk of leather.
Kragen’s fake grin proves my thought must be correct. “It’s not terrible,” he says. “It’ll do in a pinch,” he adds, smiling much more genuinely this time.
I lean close with a mischievous look. “I’ll show you a pinch,” I bite back, pinching his left love handle.
The boy giggles for moments, only showing how ticklish he is. I’ll keep this information for when I need to catch him at his weakest. After feeding him another few bites, Kragen reaches for my arm to force me into dropping the fork. His chin meets mine, akin to every fucking romcom in existence. Our lips part briefly, between periods of tiny clicks and slurps resounding around the kitchen.
“Fuck me, Island Daddy,” he drones. “I mean, upstairs,” he adds, pointing to the ceiling.
After catching my breath, I bend over to put my shirt back on. Banana Boy meets my serious stare when I lift him back into my arms, carrying the lightweight babe out from the kitchen. My arousal is at its most supreme. In fact, I’m certain it wouldn’t take too much for my volcanic cock to engulf the boy’s hungry chasm. But he’s already in so much pain, I couldn’t in good conscience impart more agony upon him.
