Good Boy — A Free Age-Gap MM Daddy Romance Scene by Jace Wilder (2026)

A free one today with an age-gap edge. This scene’s from Jace Wilder — MM, a two-decade gap, and the specific heat of a praise/daddy dynamic between two men who both know exactly what they want and have spent months politely not saying so. If the voice lands, the full catalog is free with Kindle Unlimited, and every book page has a first chapter waiting.

Heads up: explicit scene, readers 18 and over. Two consenting adults (25 and 43), a daddy/praise-kink dynamic, and enthusiastic yes-means-yes throughout. If that’s not your speed today, our reading guides are a gentler stop.

Good Boy

Jamie had been finding reasons to stay late for three weeks, and Rhys had been letting him, and both of them were fully aware that neither of these facts was about the paperwork.

Tonight the reason was a bottle of good bourbon Jamie had brought “to say thanks” — for the mentorship, for the reference, for the year of Rhys quietly making sure the newest, youngest person on the crew didn’t get chewed up. They were the last two in the office. Rhys had his sleeves rolled up and his tie long gone, forty-three and steady as a foundation, and Jamie was sitting on the edge of his desk swinging one foot and watching him pour like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re looking at me again,” Rhys said, not unkindly.

“I look at you a lot.” Jamie took the glass, deliberately let their fingers overlap. “You’ve noticed. You just do that thing where you pretend you haven’t.”

Rhys leaned back against the credenza, unhurried, and studied him — the twenty-five-year-old with too much confidence and the beginnings of real skill and a mouth that had been getting bolder by the week. “You’re a lot younger than me, Jamie.”

“I’m twenty-five. I know what I want. I’ve known for about eleven months.” He set the glass down and slid off the desk, closing the space, close enough now to tip his head back and hold Rhys’s eyes. “The only person in this room pretending not to want this is you. So. Tell me to go home, and I’ll go home, and we never bring it up again.”

Rhys didn’t tell him to go home.

He reached up instead, slow, and took Jamie’s jaw in one broad hand — a grip that was gentle and absolutely certain all at once — and Jamie’s whole body reacted to it, a soft exhale, a lean into the hold like he’d been waiting eleven months to be held exactly that way.

“Is this what you’ve been staying late for?” Rhys asked, low.

“Yeah,” Jamie breathed.

“Say it plainly. I don’t move on anything I’m guessing at.”

“I want you.” Jamie’s voice cracked in the middle and he didn’t care. “I want you to stop being careful with me. Please.”

Something shifted in Rhys’s face — the last of the restraint going — and when he spoke again his voice had dropped into something that made Jamie’s knees genuinely weak. “All right, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely.”

He kissed him then, and there was nothing careful in it. He backed Jamie into the desk and kept him there with the weight of his own body, one hand still cradling his jaw, the other spanning the small of his back, and Jamie melted into it with a sound of pure relief. Rhys kissed like he did everything — without hurry, with total attention, like Jamie was a thing worth taking his time over.

“Look at you,” Rhys murmured against his mouth, when Jamie was already breathing hard. “All that big talk, and you go soft the second someone takes you in hand.”

“Only for —” Jamie’s breath hitched as Rhys’s mouth moved to his throat. “Only when it’s you.”

“I know.” A graze of teeth that made him gasp. “Good boy. Tell me if anything’s too much and we stop. Understand?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a shudder — the praise landing somewhere deep, the permission landing deeper. “Yes, I understand.”

“There he is.” Rhys got a hand in his hair, tilted his head just so, and the small sound Jamie made was the least composed thing he’d done in years. “You’ve been so patient, sweetheart. Eleven months. Let me take care of you now.”

And he did — slow, sure, checking in with a murmured okay? at every new thing and waiting for Jamie’s breathless yes before he gave him more, every yes rewarded with a low that’s it or good that Jamie felt in his whole body. For all the bourbon-courage Jamie had walked in with, the truth was he’d never in his life felt as taken-care-of as he did coming apart under a man who paid attention to every single reaction and told him, steadily, exactly how well he was doing.

After, Jamie was a boneless, grinning heap against Rhys’s chest, and Rhys had one arm around him and was tracing slow shapes on his shoulder like he had all night. Which, it was increasingly clear, he did.

“So,” Jamie said to the ceiling, voice wrecked and delighted. “Eleven months I could’ve had that.”

“You could’ve said something eleven months ago,” Rhys pointed out, dry.

“I said plenty. You’re just slow.” Jamie tipped his head up, and the cocky thing softened into something more honest. “This wasn’t a one-time thing. I want to be clear about that part.”

Rhys pressed a kiss to his hair, unhurried, certain. “No,” he agreed. “It wasn’t. Now stop staying late for fake reasons — you can stay late for real ones.”

Jamie laughed into his chest and didn’t move, and neither did the man holding him, and the bourbon sat forgotten on the desk going warm.

Want the whole book?

If a steady older man who takes his time and a younger one who thrives on being taken care of is your flavor, that’s a whole corner of Jace Wilder’s catalog — age-gap, daddy dynamics, praise kink, with the tension wound tight and the payoff fully on the page. Every title is free to read with Kindle Unlimited. New to him? The Jace Wilder daddy-kink guide maps the five best entry points.

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