We Have Till Monday by Cara Dee (moboreader .TXT) 📕

“Do you cover your tattoo as well?” I asked.

“Nowadays. I didn’t before. I want everything in my videos to be wholesome. Except for my potty mouth.”

I grinned softly and peered up at him. At the same time, I stroked my hand along his thigh. “Your potty mouth is funny.”

He bit his bottom lip and brushed his fingers over my nipples. “It’s the only time I’m allowed to curse.”

I chuckled quietly and dropped my gaze to his thighs and underwear. Of course a mischievous little boy like Camden was going to pack as many curses into his videos if that was the one time it was okay.

As I rubbed him gently around his upper thigh, sliding my hand between his legs every now and then too, I got to see how it affected him. He’d stopped touching me. His breathing was slowly becoming shallow, and his cock was filling out his briefs more and more.

When I drew the pad of my thumb along the soft crease before his briefs took over, he stuttered a breath and clutched my shoulders.

“Do you like it when I touch you here, Camden?”

He nodded quickly. “It feels very, very good.”

I wanted to tease him. I wanted to draw it out.

I also wanted to suck the come from his cock and make him beg and scream, and I wasn’t known for being patient when I really wanted something.

“Perhaps you should help me with my jeans,” I said.

“Y-yes,” he breathed.

There was no going back now.

I rose from the bed, and he snuck closer while I removed my belt.

“I wanna see your thing,” he admitted. “You’ve seen mine and Daddy’s, so it’s only fair.”

That couldn’t compare. Whatever they showed on their NSFW account was artistically edited and left too much to the imagination.

My belt ended up on the floor with a muted thud, and then I unzipped my jeans carefully until my semihard cock was free. Camden stared at it as if he couldn’t look away, and it wasn’t helping me be patient.

“C-can we lie down, p-please?” The urgency in his plea broke the last resolve I wasn’t even sure I’d had in the first place. My mind turned darker; I wanted to cover his body with my own and have my way with him. I wanted to use his perfect little body, taste every inch, and bring him to an edge where he wasn’t sure if he could handle more.

The second my jeans hit the floor, I crawled over Camden on the mattress and got us under the heavy duvet.

“This what you wanted, ragazzo? You want a strange old man in your bed, feeling you up?”

“Ohhhh, too many thoughts at once!” He gasped and curled himself into my embrace. “You are not a strange man—I’ve stalked you since last year, and I’m an excellent judge of character—and I love sweet nicknames. Can you tell me what it means?”

I chuckled huskily and wove my fingers through his shaggy hair, then pulled him back and exposed his neck for me. “Ragazzo means boy, my little stalker.” I dropped an openmouthed kiss along his neck and earned myself a breathy, needy moan from him. “Tell me more about your stalking. I wanna know why you keep saying I’ll be perfect for your Daddy.”

I wasn’t personal enough on social media. Again, my account was too closely linked to my work.

“Because—because he needs someone sweet.” Camden nudged me onto my back and crawled on top of me. If I wanted him to talk, it might be best if I let him lead for a moment. “Someone like you.”

I shook my head and slipped my hands up his thighs. “Are you two searching for a play partner or something? You should start by not looking outside of the state.”

He snickered in response. “It’s too soon to divulge that part of my—”

“Evil genius plan,” I mimicked.

He smiled widely. “You’re funny.”

“And you were going to tell me why you think I’m sweet.”

“That one’s easy.” He slowed down a little and let his hands roam my chest. “From every picture you uploaded from your music school, I could tell you really care for your students. You love your job, you love helping, you love teaching, you love sharing music.”

His answer slowed everything down for me too. Regardless of how mouthwateringly sinful this young man was, how much his body called to me, hearing his thoughts suddenly became more urgent.

“You love your family and your community too,” he murmured. Some of his boyishness faded and made room for something just as genuine but less kinky. “I saw a picture of you and your grandmother holding up pastries and smiling so wide. Multiple pictures of your brother. He’s often goofing off and being funny, and you look like you’re humoring him. But you also post the photos, you don’t throw them out, because they’re important to you. He’s very important to you.” He tapped my lips with his fingertip, and I kissed it softly. “All the photos of faceless students where you write about therapy styles and mental health and the progress children are making—the impact music can make. You, especially you, reveal so much about yourself when you talk about others.”

Not for the first time around Camden—and August, for that matter—I had fuck-all to say in response.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” he wondered.

I swallowed and shook my head slowly, trying to find the right words. “I’m flattered you see me that way.”

“But you don’t agree with the assessment?”

Fuck if I knew. Probably not, no. “It’s possible I don’t see myself in the best light all the time.” I smiled in an attempt to lighten the tension. A vacation wasn’t the right time to get serious with heavy topics. “I used to jokingly tell people that I’m the reliable workhorse. Not the stallion you use for breeding, not the racehorse you put money on, but I’m good to have around.”

I didn’t get a damn chuckle, even. Just another nose scrunch.

“Jokes are suppost’a be funny, Sir.” He quirked a