Page 102 of Hush, Little Baby

He’s tight as usual, but so slick and desperate for it that I can’t stop myself from sinking in all the way. The way his breath hitches—every little tremor—goes right through me. I’m so far gone I can barely remember how to pace myself, but I force it, bottoming out with a shudder and staying there, letting him get used to the stretch.

Charlie wraps his arms around my neck, clutching tight, nails scraping at my nape.

He’s making these tiny, helpless noises, like he’s not even aware of them, like it’s just his body’s way of begging for more.

I press my face into his hair and inhale, and his scent is so innocent, so fucking sweet, that it almost makes me blow.

“Alright, baby. This will be a quick one. So just lie there and let Daddy make you feel good, okay?”

He nods, glassy-eyed, and his legs fall open even wider.

I start to move, drawing out just enough to feel friction, then pushing back in. The way he trembles and rocks with each thrust makes me want to ruin him like our first time, but I hold back, making him feel every second. His back arches, and his cock bobs against his belly, leaking and flushed.

“Feels so good, Daddy,” he whines.

“Yeah, you think you’re close, baby?”

“Yessss.”

I reach down and stroke him, matching the rhythm of my hips. His head kicks back, mouth open, panting as I squeeze him just how he likes. I can tell he’s holding on by a thread, and the thought that he’s trying to hold back, to be good, to make it last for me, undoes me.

Charlie sobs, clinging to me, bare and desperate and shaking, and as cliché as it is, and as much as I’ll probably regret dropping the words for the first time while balls deep in him, I can’t help myself.

“Come for me, Charlie. Come for the man who loves you.”

His eyes betray his shock for a split millisecond, then roll back as his ass starts to flutter around me, small twitches at first, then seismic shudders as I fuck him through the crest of his pleasure. His cock pulses hot into my palm, a sticky arc against his belly, and he lets out the purest, most broken moan of release.

“Fuck, that’s it,” I grunt, hips stuttering, sweat dripping off my brow. “Let Daddy have it, come on—”

I chase my own end, slamming in hard enough to bruise, and when I finally lose control, I swear I see stars. Charlie sobs out with each pulse, and I hold him so close I can feel his heart beating, wild and erratic, beneath his ribs. And for a long time, I just stay like that, buried deep, hands cradling his head, my own face buried in the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t mention my love declaration, but I’m okay with that. He doesn’t need to answer yet. He just needs to know that my heart beats solely for him.

* * *

Less than twelve hours later, we stand beneath the cavernous fluorescent lights of a craft store the size of an aircraft hangar. The air smells faintly of plastic and fresh lumber.

Brightly colored boxes line shelf upon shelf—window art, painting, tie-dye, crocheting, crystal-growing sets—anything a kid could want.

Or a Charlie.

Other shoppers occasionally drift past us, some casting wary glances. One mother steers her child away as though I’m an active threat to their safety. Another woman spots the outline of my holster beneath my coat and backs off, bumping her cart into the next aisle.

Charlie doesn’t appear to notice. He’s too entranced by his options.

He sits in one of those motorized carts, and my job is to get the items he picks from the shelf and add them to the basket.

I’m proud of him for choosing to use something that will make his life just a bit easier. When we first entered the store and he saw one available, he went straight to it, explaining to me that he knew he’d take a really long time choosing his crafts and couldn’t stand for all that time. Then he said that he feels more comfortable using the accessible option because I’m with him.

“Look,” he breathes, pulling me out of my head. “That one grows glow-in-the-dark crystals!”

“Wow, baby. Does it get to go into the cart?”

He beams. “Yes, please.”

Around an hour later, we exit the store with the glow-in-the-dark crystals, a kit to make your own bouncy balls, a slime-making kit, two different painting sets, a “spa science” kit—whatever that entails—a DIY fairy garden complete with seeds, a Chia Pet hedgehog, a Chia Pet Godzilla, a create-your-own window art kit that I will 1000% be proudly displaying on the penthouse’s windows, a friendship bracelet making kit with a little loom included, and obviously a volcano.

In the car, Charlie seems to realize he’s bought several weeks’ worth of activities. “Um… We’ll just do some of them today.”