Sugar Daddy {S.M}

Chapter Eight

- smut warning (daddy kink clearly lol the book is about sugar daddies), I also haven't written smut in a long while this may be bad lol -

"How did I do?" Shawn asked me, dabbing a towel on his neck and chest. His shirt was discarded on the couch in his dressing room because it was actually drenched with sweat. It looked like he climbed a mountain in that thing after running a couple of miles in the Sahara.

"Amazing." I said and he thanked me. "How awkward is it to perform without your guitar? You were borderline molesting the microphone stand." I said and he laughed.

"What are you supposed to do with your hands when you don't have an instrument to play?" He asked and I shrugged as he pulled a new shirt on, a plain black tee.

"I'm not a performer, I wouldn't know." I said and he chuckled, walking past me to get a water bottle from the mini fridge. "You really really good up there." I accidentally said and he looked at me.

"Hm?"

"I said you did really good up there." I lied and he rose an eyebrow at me as he opened the bottle.

"That's not what I heard." He said, his lips curling into a lopsided smirk before he took a drink of water. "Want some? You seem thirsty."

"Was that some kind of pun?"

"Maybe." He said and laughed after he swallowed. He set the bottle down and grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close to him. "How good did I look up there?"

"Good enough for me to have to balls to ask, do we have time for a quickie?" I asked, batting my eyelashes as he looked around the dressing room.

"What kind of fucking dressing room doesn't have a wall clock?" He grumbled and I showed him my watch, which was brand new. "We have twenty minutes before we gotta go, you bet we have time."

"I would have made time regardless." I said and he pressed his lips against mine. His hands slid down my sides, tightly holding my hips.

I ran my hands through his dark hair, that was actually slightly damp from sweat, and tugged on it slightly. His large hands gripped my ass and I could feel his boner through his dark jeans. His teeth bit down on my bottom lip and I moaned quietly.

"Fuck," he whispered and pulled away. He tossed his phone aside and then went to lock to door. "Can't get caught now can we? Only one who gets to see your body is me."

His hands were rough as he held my body, his mouth sucking and biting at my neck. "Daddy," I hummed and he chuckled lowly. "I need you."

"Be patient baby." He said and I pouted. I hated being patient.

I slid my hands under his shirt, sliding it up as we pulled away. I pulled it off of him, throwing the black material somewhere in the dressing room. "I don't know why you even bothered with that." I said and he shrugged.

"Didn't think we'd fuck in the middle of my dressing room, but I stand corrected." He said, unbuttoning the shirt I had on as I traced the outline of his abs, only pulling away to take off the shirt fully.

His upper body was covered in a thin layer of sweat from being on stage for about an hour, performing in front of thousands and thousands of girls under blinding lights in a stuffy room. It was actually really hot. Usually sweaty people aren't hot, but... well... Mr. Mendes isn't like most people.

His hands reached for the black crop-top I had on under my flannel, and he pulled it off. My hair fell in front of my face, which I just pushed back. I reached behind me and unclipped my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders as he bit his bottom lip.