Papi by J.P. Barnaby Page A

before turning left and out of sight. His shoulders fell as the boy watched where the car had been. Shoulder-length black waves framed his face, appearing angelic by the moon’s light, a sharp contrast to his mouth, which looked like it was just made for sin. Without any trouble at all, Kyle could imagine those sweet lips wrapped around his cock while the boy’s innocent eyes looked up at him through those long lashes. His face was clean-shaven, and Kyle’s gaze followed the smooth lines of the younger man’s throat to the top of his chest, clearly visible above a tight black tank top that looked painted on.
    As the boy turned and bent to grab a well-worn jacket from the ground behind him, Kyle knew that he had found exactly what he was looking for in the shape of the boy’s sweet rounded ass.
    The focus of Kyle’s keen attention turned then, almost as if he knew that someone watched him. The boy may have blushed from the attention, but no hint of it showed on his warm caramel skin. A street-like arrogance covered up the raw innocence in the kid’s face almost immediately.
    “Hey, papi , you like what you see?” the boy asked, stretching his arms out to his sides and strutting toward the car; the vulnerability that had been in his face only a moment before was gone. Pulling up the front of his ribbed tank top, which he’d artfully ripped to match his battered jeans, the boy ran a hand along his soft stomach and toyed with the top button just below his navel. Slowly, he traced the bare skin in a tiny circle, entrancing Kyle so that he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
    “Yeah, I do,” Kyle replied, still watching the incredibly erotic trail of the boy’s fingers as they strayed to the waistband of his jeans. “What’s your name, kid?”
    “Jesse… you looking for someone to play with, papi ?” the boy asked, letting his hand dip into his jeans, his eyes never leaving Kyle’s. The contrast between the innocence in the boy’s open expression and the blatant sexual behavior made Kyle ache.
    “How much?” Kyle asked, not wanting to play games. His tongue flicked out to moisten his suddenly dry lips. The zipper confining his interested cock started to get uncomfortable. He wanted the boy in the car, and then he wanted his dick down Jesse’s throat.
    “Depends on what you want. I got a place, if you wanna go there. It’s one-fifty for the hour. If you want to stay in the car, it’s fifty for a blow and a hundred for a fuck,” Jesse rattled off in a businesslike tone, and then added, “oh, condom only.” The time for flirting and posturing had passed. Looking around, the street seemed pretty fucking exposed for Kyle’s taste. The last thing he needed was for someone to tell his bitch of an ex that he’d come down by the docks to pick up a hooker. She would probably have a goddamned heart attack, and he would spend the next twenty years playing daddy.
    “Get in,” Kyle told Jesse in a clipped, brusque tone, and had the car in gear before the boy had the door completely closed.
    “Hey, ese , I know I’m hot, but I don’t start the clock ’til we get to the room.” Jesse laughed but Kyle didn’t hear a bit of humor in it. At the mention of the room and the clock, however, Kyle’s cock went from interested to semi-hard and hopeful.
    “Where’s the room?” Kyle asked, turning left at the first light. Turning right would lead them away from downtown, and he figured the shithole hotel would be close.
    “It’s the Phoenix Inn on seventh.” Jesse put on his seat belt. As surreal as the situation was for Kyle, that small bit of normalcy, putting on a seat belt, caught him as strange. The boy was about to sell his body to a complete stranger for sex, but he was worried about a seat belt? At least the kid had some sense of self-preservation by wearing the belt and requiring a condom to fuck. A condom wouldn’t save him from everything that he could contract through oral sex, but that didn’t seem to be