Island daddy destination.., p.19
Island Daddy (Destination Daddies), page 19
It takes every ounce of dignity to keep from smacking Tam in the jowls. “Not if you refer to him like that, I won’t,” I bite back, pressing my forefinger deep into his chest.
He backs away with both hands surrendered. “Christ, man,” he replies. “I’m sorry.”
The temperature of my blood returns to a tepid degree, affording me my usually fake disposition as I round the V.I.P. area. Ten flashes from cellphone cameras all around have temporarily blinded me, surely to swarm Facebook, Instagram, and fucking TikTok before the boy and I return to my Kūhiō Beach penthouse. But I can’t make it as far as the platform steps, when I’m accosted by another annoyance. Janelle Houston, an actress infamous for her massive love affair with Cherry Truman’s now ex-husband, pushes me straight up against the lounge wall.
“I have party favors,” she yells into my ear, shaking a vial of cocaine. “Come have a bump with me for old time’s sake.”
I shake my head with a curt expression. “No,” I reply, forcing her to relent from my shoulder. “You must forget I hate homewreckers just as much as the cheaters themselves,” I add, whisking past the V.I.P. velvet rope.
If Tamryn behaves himself, I’ll allow him to come outside so he can meet Kragen. But I’m hellbent on leaving after the near assault from Cherry’s nemesis. He locates me rounding the bar, when I wave him on the trail outside. As I reach a door leading out to the lanai fashioned into a dance floor, I’m quick to notice the boy most assuredly isn’t in the spot where I left him.
“Theres you aresh,” he yells from behind me and Tamryn. “That took forrreeevvvverrrrr,” he adds, extending his hand.
He’s acting strangely from just a few minutes ago. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost suspect he downed two alcoholic beverages in the time I was inside. I wasn’t but fifteen minutes. Surely not more than twenty. Fuck, kiddo!
I shoot Kragen a concerning look. “Please tell me you didn’t drink or take anything while I was inside,” I blurt, raising his chin with the curl of my finger. “Not that I’d be mad, but you shouldn’t drink for another day or so.”
Tamryn clicks off his phone with a loud chuckle. “The kid looks trashed to me.”
Kragen shakes his head in disagreement. “No, there’d wash a nice local guy passhing around theshhse ssugar coasteds pineappleuh spearsh,” he claims. “I had like thirsteen or fifthteen of them.”
What the ever loving fuck did you get into, kiddo? I shoot a curious look back in Tamryn’s direction. “What the fuck did you feed my boy?” I ask, feeling my blood roiling for a second time tonight.
Tam shrugs. “I didn’t give him shit, man,” he claims, his lackadaisical demeanor driving me to yank him by the shirt collar.
A split-second later, Tamryn’s back is flat up against the club’s siding. “I’m gonna ask you fucking nicely one more time,” I growl, raising a brow. “What—did—my—boy—just—ingest?”
Frightened, his eyes widen considerably. Almost as if he’s being truthful. “I don’t know, my bartender said he was gonna start infusing fruit with Everclear.”
Fuck me!!! “Christ!” I scowl, a loud grunt rustling the back of my throat. “That’s like 130 proof,” I thunder, the echo bouncing off this wall. “And it’s fucking illegal in Hawaii!”
I turn around to see an incredibly buzzed Kragen Darling. He’s swaying to the fresh beats flourishing from every speaker out on the dance lanai. My boy motions for me to come closer with half his fingers. As I approach him, he extends both arms to reel me into his chest.
The exultant tone painting his beautiful face, captivates my heart by a throng of chains. Yet at the same time, escalating each of my Daddy instincts to their max. I want to get him back to my hotel, so I can sober him the fuck up. With every hope that his brain didn’t suffer any type of harm. Oh my fucking God, Dr. Davis is gonna be pissed if this screwed up my little boy.
“I requethted thisth song for ussh,” he claims. “It’th our soongg Daddyeuh!”
My palm pats his backside with ease, raising his chin with my extended finger yet again. “Aren’t you in pain dancing like that?”
“Whath pained?” He shrugs, pulling me close by the back of my neck.
Under the sheen of a full moon, our wet lips shift into random shapes against the other. My body sways with his swift motions from right to left, then back again. A swift breeze tousles my hair, while the deep lyrics of Ed Sheeran’s “Bad Habits” flounder through each eardrum. The boy’s damn right, these lyrics fit us to the fucking letter.
His tongue slides under mine, as I gently nibble on his upper lip. This taste! Fuck me all the way to a neon paradise. The flavor is reminiscent of a sweet pineapple. Yet his heavy breath is cloaked by pure grain alcohol. Likely from a vendor in Kona—who’s been known to sell it illegally for years now. But I’m not upset with my darling boy. To be fair, so long as he’s okay, then so am I. I’d stay out here getting drunk off his love all night, if that’s what he wants.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KRAGEN
Birds sing their sweet melodies up in the tree next to my window, causing me to wake from a restful sleep. If memory serves me—and this is something which hasn’t been incredibly useful the last few days—today is already Saturday. Thanks to Tuti’s deep spiritual need to connect with the sun every morning, I haven’t been accosted by the bright rays each day I rise from the dead. For the last fifteen years, I’ve had the master bedroom and bathroom all to myself. Until now, that is.
We technically landed in Grand Junction last night. But if I have to take a stab at what time we ascended my front porch, I’d guess well past eleven. Just because my Island Daddy has a private jet, doesn’t mean his pilot has become immune to the nasty elements of Mother Nature. Our short stop in California to refuel afforded us enough time to take an Uber to In-N-Out. Only after scarfing a Double-Double and large fries, did we return to the plane. Whereupon, Konnor advised us severe weather would cause a three hour delay.
Speaking of the tiki God, his arm is draped over my right shoulder. I’m not sure if I’ve paid close attention to it the last several mornings, but his snores take the sound of Thomas the fucking Train. Carefully, I slide out from under Reid’s flaccid limb to enjoy my penultimate Colorado morning piss. We’re supposed to be wheels-up by noon tomorrow, because Daddy has some important meeting at the office on Monday morning.
A yawn escapes my mouth, aiming the stream directly into my toilet bowl. However, as fate would always have it, a small splash shoots just over the porcelain rim. Never fails, man. Never fucking fails. Not that I can complain, since this might be the last time I ever have to clean a bathroom in my life. I’m almost certain that my Island Daddy doesn’t know a toilet brush from his tasty cock.
I bend forward to retrieve a few squares of toilet paper to wipe up the overspray from between my toilet seat and bowl. Followed by a satisfying flush as I totter back to the sink. Clanking sounds of pots and pans can be heard emanating from downstairs in the kitchen. Momma did mention she planned on doing her best to prepare breakfast this weekend. “I’ll try to make it fit for a King,” she said last night, before retiring to their bed.
Though, I’m not incredibly hungry. To be completely honest, there’s a certain degree of nerves causing my tummy to feel nauseated. This is a big fucking move for me. I attended the local university, finishing my Journalism degree in half the time it would’ve taken somebody else. So I’ve remained happily at home since birth.
Now technically, I’m flying from the nest after meeting Daddy Reid merely seven days ago. Carrie thinks I’m bananas and has reserved all judgement until she’s been given the assurance of knowing if this is destiny or some shit.
I glance into the double mirrored vanity at my sink, studying the vacancy in my stare. Meanwhile, my gut instincts scream only from a place of encouragement. This just feels right. Momma wouldn’t let me leave, if her psychic powers knew it would end in a world of hurt. Cool water shoots from the faucet, drenching my hands with a generous lather of Dial. Yet another change from my old life to new. All I remember seeing in his Maui bathrooms were some French brand—Locktane or something to that effect.
A few splashes grace my sweaty face, getting lost in deep thought about my new life. Precisely how I’m starting to already see a shift in my personal behaviors. Drinking has never been a favorite pastime of mine. Yet I’ve consumed more liquor in the last week, than I have any other time. Of which, the most recent brings a passionate memory to the forefront of my mind.
That fucking dance under moonlight. I might have been intoxicated with what Daddy said was Everclear, but I remember most every detail as if it were only last night. Our tongues slid against the other, as my requested song played throughout the club’s back patio. My skin could feel the slightest breeze. However, it only served to cool me down from eating those liquor infused pineapple spears, versus providing any great chill.
“If you’re my bad habit, Banana Boy,” he muttered into my ear, licking the lobe. “The only thing that could get me into a twelve-step program is if you joined me in rehab,” he added, smoothing his soft palm across my cheek. “Spending even one night without you is a feat I’m unwilling to fathom.”
Who the fuck knows what I replied with? If I had to guess, I’m thinking I might’ve spewed some word vomit to the effect of, “then let’s get lost in a sea of ecstasy together, Daddy.” And even at that, I’m certain it came out an unintelligible, slurred mess.
His hand creeped down my backside, shimmying between my ass crack and the belt. My cock twitched at the slightest touch. I knew it wouldn’t take much longer before I’d need to cum a river of bliss. Yet our song ceased to end. It lasted for what seemed like an hour. Yet it’s literally only three and a half minutes long.
Ed Sheeran’s lyrics speak about finding paradise, late nights with an unfamiliar person, and entertaining the temptation to keep seeing them because it feels so good. But that’s just the thing. Reid Fairchild is the last person on the planet whom I imagined falling head over heels for. After all is said and done, he seems to be the one person who understands me the most.
“Let’s get you poor fella to a place we can lie down,” he groaned under a veil of intent.
When the song finished playing, Daddy Reid whisked me into his strong arms. The world spun madly around my peripheral vision. Meanwhile, the man I’d just agreed to move in with, stopped at his car to give his driver special instructions.
His tone remained low, so I’m fuzzy on exact verbatim. But I think Daddy asked Gordon, “before you call it a night, please go to Lilo’s Pizza for a large—extra pineapple and ham—”
In that moment, I remember an image briefly flashed in my mind. The pizza box which I carried around to my bed at The Tiki Tavern, merely a moment before Reid’s Grindr messages blew me out of the water. Then a light drowned my periphery, all the while feeling Daddy carry me away from his car.
It didn’t matter where he planned on taking me. By that point, I was beyond three sheets to the wind. Not to mention vulnerable and willing to have possibly become the Bay Harbor Butcher’s newest victim, if Reid would’ve turned out to be the nefarious monster Carrie cautioned me about. Since so much alcohol sloshed around my stomach, at least he’d planned on feeding me one last meal.
Though incredibly dark, I could make out the lustrous snicker as he tilted his head within view. “Poor little Banana Boy,” he clicked his tongue in a rapid succession. “We’re gonna get some grease in that gut.”
Perhaps after thinking about it now, I’m capable of being histrionic even pissed drunk. I peer my head around the doorframe to catch a glimpse of Daddy still snoozing away in bed. This gives me time to sneak down the stairwell, for what might be my last Colorado morning ritual ever practiced. As expected, this tradition continues at least for one more day.
Every morning after springing from bed, Tuti has a fresh cup of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen table. Without fail, next to my java is the morning’s copy of The Daily Picket. And unless it’s raining or snowing, I take my joe and newspaper out to a quiet spot in our garden for ‘silent time.’ She shoots me a proud look, as my fingers grip through the mug’s handle. Kind of similar to how a mother would, when they’re facing the reality that their baby has to make a life for themselves at some point. Who actually cares to entertain the consequences of reality?
A deep breath cleanses my lungs, while I glance up into the sky. Not a single cloud today. Even though last night, it appeared that Mesa County would experience a week’s long monsoon. I tip the cup to my lips, blowing gently to cool the very first sip. Now that I’m skipping town, the local news seems almost trivial. The only thing I find myself able to do, is allowing my memory from Tuesday night to pick back up in such a silent reverie.
Wind stung each pore on my face, while Reid carried me down a path leading to a slender peninsula surrounded by dozens of luxury yachts. The water’s tides all ended in the same fashion, gently slopping up against the sides of each boat. Clunk-a-clunk! Clunk-a-clunk! Reid lowered his stare to mine, winking briefly before opening his mouth to speak.
“Welcome aboard Nani’s Haven, my boy,” he grunted mildly, ascending a small plank.
Within a moment, another grunt followed his first, as I felt him lifting my entire body weight aboard in the process. For a floating vessel, it didn’t feel like it swayed too terribly much. Most likely due to its own massive volume immersed halfway in the water. He carried me towards a long, padded bench definitely wide enough for more company than two people. Catching a glimpse of the star riddled sky seemed inevitable, as Reid laid my intoxicated body amongst his deck cushions.
Daddy sat up against the backrest with my head in his lap. He combed his fingers through the locks of my sweaty hair, waiting for his driver to return with the greasy pizza—surely to stave a heavy hangover if at all possible. In that moment, I didn’t care about the repercussions of drinking or eating liquor drenched fruit. The only thing which mattered the most, was the gentle care and love he displayed. His tacit agreement to ensure I wouldn’t suffer needlessly for another day as long as I shall live.
The night grew past us both, as we tossed our grubby napkins into the box with various uneaten crusts. Reid held another glass bottle of that twenty-dollar water to my lips, encouraging me to swallow as much as I could tolerate.
“Hydration is so important when drinking,” he advised me. “The last few times you’ve been liquored up, I couldn’t get very many fluids down the pipe.”
When I pleaded how I’d reached my limit for the time being, he fastened the lid before a gentle toss into the cushions opposite us. Not a split-second later, he unbuttoned my black silk shirt which costed over a thousand bucks—teeming with pleasure.
He moaned ravenously while undressing the rest of me from the waist down. Every square inch of my sweaty flesh could feel the brisk air graze its surface. Of course in that moment, it revved my engines with gusto to where all I could do was bite my bottom lip in anticipation. My vision blurred sporadically as I studied the dazzling sky in all its splendor. Waiting for Daddy to slip out of his matching outfit felt like the final seconds of a dog race. Will they ever catch up to the fucking rabbit?
Reid didn’t waste any more time, stroking his erect cock with an ample pool of his spit. His head pushed back with a deep moan ejecting from those strong lungs. He sidestepped around my naked body a moment later, thrashing his hardened dick against each ass cheek. My ravine practically widened after the fourth rep of his pounding cock. By that point, my eager hole granted open sesame to his nine inches of nirvana.
“Oh fuckkk,” I moaned at the instant feel of his dick plunging inside. “Damn, Daddy, you’re hard tonight.” Surely only half of that came out clear as mud.
Reid huffed, blowing a gale force wind up against my chin, as his abdomen remained parallel to mine. But his cock kept pounding farther with each motion. Meanwhile, my screams intensified. In that moment, I didn’t know whether it was the most pain I’d felt inside or not. The previous day remained a total blur.
He tightly covered my wailing with a palm. “You gotta be quieter, little boy,” he asserted. “This may be the most public sex I’ve ever had,” he grunted voraciously. “But nobody roams around down here past nightfall.”
“Mmmmm,” I cried into his hand.
Daddy Reid uncovered my gaping mouth with a glint at the corner of his eye. The moon overhead shone down at the perfect angle. Another millimeter to the left and I wouldn’t be able to see the fire in his eyes set my heart ablaze. Public sex is hotter in reality than it looks on television or film.
“Is my Banana Boy gonna stay silent while I finish?” He asked insistently.
I nodded in agreement. “Yes, Daddy,” I muttered, yet he probably couldn’t hear over his own violent breathing.
My excited cock jittered in Reid’s palm, as he squeezed it slightly with each stroke. Meanwhile, every muscle inside my lower body ached with each prod deeper and deeper than the previous. Another few minutes passed us by, when I noticed the earlier spark in his eye. It grew wider, like a star on the precipice of its lifecycle just before exploding into a black abyss. Everything within me knew he was ready to cum. And if he wasn’t, then my name isn’t Kragen fucking Darling.
Another groan ejected from my mouth through gritted teeth. I couldn’t help but relent my jaws to let the cry flow. Seconds later, ropes of my sweet release dove from the tip of my dick. Each jut of cum felt thicker and longer than the one prior, causing a brief trail of tears to meet the cusps of my eyes. I’ve never before been labeled an emotional bottom, but there’s always a first for everything.
“That’s my good boy, Kragen,” he praised me, before affording his own grunt to propel from inside him.
Daddy quickly slid his cock straight from my ass at once, vigorously stroking it as if his life depended on painting my canvas with his skilled brush. He groaned as his head pushed back again.
