Page 35 of A Coffee Away

Thick tears covered my face as Esteban drove down the street and away from my past.

Chapter 8: The Real Me

Robbie

Acouple of days had passed since our visit home, and I couldn’t stop painting. I spent day and night in front of my canvas, swallowed in a darkness I’d never faced. Fragmented pieces of my life stared at me. A kaleidoscope of colors and memories forever broken. Each was a piece of myself I’d never recover, but each was part of my whole.

The real me lay in all those moments and memories because even though my parents wouldn’t accept me, I was the son they raised, and I couldn’t be prouder of being me.

Warmth enveloped me as Esteban wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck.

“How are you doing?” His raspy voice woke something in me.

I turned. “Better now.” I kissed him hungrily.

Our conversation about BDSM two days ago had been interesting, to say the least, and I’d promised to think about it, but I was ready for more.

I pulled him to me until his body molded to mine. “Yes,” was all I said as I grabbed

his asscheek and drew him to my aching cock.

I gasped as Esteban grabbed my neck and pushed away with enough force to put some distance between us. “Yes to what, Robbie? I need you to say it.”

His voice and intensity sent a shiver through me.

My heart pounded against my ribcage. “I want this. I want you. All of you. As you are.” I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever he had to offer, I’d take it.

Esteban grunted and drew me into a kiss that was more than I could bear. It was filled with raw, unadulterated need. My body burned with want as he grabbed my ponytail and pulled hard, baring my throat to him. He kissed me there and moved down to where it met my shoulder, then he bit me.

I groaned, my dick hard as a rock.

“Remember your safe word.”

I nodded. The fire inside threatened to incinerate me from the inside out.

We talked about the need for a safe word if I couldn’t take any more. I chose whiskey.

“You’ll do what I say, and you won’t come until I give you permission. Understand?”

I nodded again, unable to form the words due to the heat of his touch. His words.

“Words, Roberto.” His tone carried authority. Power.

“I understand, sir.”

He inhaled at that last word.

He hadn’t asked me to call him that, but I wanted to try it. And judging by his reaction, I guess he liked it.

The rumble in his chest was enough to render me useless at his feet. “Good boy.”

He took my hand, and I followed him into the bedroom. He sat in a reclining chair that faced the bed.

I stood in front of him, motionless and quiet. My body burned with anticipation.

“Strip.” He leaned back in the chair, his elbow propped on the armrest, his hand covering his lips.

I took off my shirt, then undid my belt.