Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Oh my gosh, that’s so cool,” he was saying. “I’m gonna watch all the other documentaries with you in them next week. I tracked them all down!”
He made people feel special and important.
I upped the heat a bit and shifted the bowls with the other ingredients closer to the stove. Ground lamb, Italian sausage, mushrooms, bell peppers, the tomato sauce I’d prepared earlier today, herbs and spices—
“I forgot to tell you about the best thing that happened today,” I heard Dean say. I peered out toward the hallway but could only see the back of Gael’s head. “Your lunch. The pasta was amazing, baby.”
I grinned, glad I’d waited with mine. I’d tasted both kinds Gael had made at the class, and I’d decided to freeze mine until next week when I knew I had a lot of work. Four new contracts, one of them from the government. I’d need my arsenal of pick-me-ups.
A few seconds later, Gael and Dean emerged, and the latter smiled at me and walked over.
He hugged me from behind and kissed my neck, all while Gael rambled about the documentaries Dean had participated in over the years.
“So you’re my ruler, huh?” he murmured close to my ear.
I set down the spatula and turned around in his arms. “Good, you saw it.”
He hummed and kissed me. “If you act like a brat, I ought to punish you like one too.”
I chuckled, teasing the tip of my tongue against his. “Sounds like a good time to me. Maybe you can fuck me really hard and put me in my place.”
That one amused him. “I said punish, not reward.”
“Are you listening, Daddies?” Gael grated out. “This is important stuff. It’s Master’s entire catalogue! I have it here in my phone.”
“We’re listening,” I chuckled into the kiss. Then I dropped my tone again and spoke for only Dean to hear. “Now, where were we on that reward?”
His smirk formed slowly, and he nipped at my bottom lip. “How about I fuck you as hard as I adore you?”
Jesus.
I shivered and locked my arms around his neck, and we deepened the kiss. Hell, I fucking melted against him, and lust burned through me as I tasted him. Maybe Gael and I should join Dean in the shower. He always wanted to take a shower after work, and dinner wouldn’t be ready for a while anyway.
“Mmm…but it’s gonna have to wait,” he said, slowing the kiss down. Wait, what? “I want us properly riled up for tomorrow.”
What the flying fuck. I might not be twenty anymore, or thirty, but come on. We’d done something every night we’d spent together so far. Whether it was just a blow job or a long, hard, sweaty fuck, there’d been something.
“You can’t make that decision,” I protested. “I’m your ruler.”
Dean let out a laugh.
And Gael ran over to us. “I heard ruler! Did you already see, Master? Mine also?”
“I did,” Dean chuckled and hugged the boy to him. “I’ll admit, I couldn’t stop smiling.”
“That’s the goal.” Our boy offered his signature goofy grin.
Since there wouldn’t be any “unboxing reaction” where Dean initially saw that I was now his ruler, we might as well go to the next best thing. Actually, it would be even better. Perhaps it would distract me from the devastating notion of going without sex until tomorrow night too.
“On a semi-related topic, you got a letter today, Gael.” I walked over to the corner cabinet where I’d stashed the letter. “I asked Reese to send it to my house.”
“Huh?” He was one part nervous and four parts curious as I held out the envelope to him.
It was the fancy stuff. Black envelope with a red wax seal on it, and Lucas and Sloan had put together a logo for the academy. Sloan being an illustrator and tattoo artist, Lucas being a graphic designer. Mclean House went all out. The logo could not look more prestigious and official—except when you looked closer, some details stood out. Two majestic horses flanked the MH for Mclean House, and the skirts of the tails had been replaced by floggers. The lines that framed “Academy” were made of rope, and you could spot two sets of handcuffs in the vinery along the sides.
“Oh my gosh.” Gael brushed a finger over the embossed logo, his nervousness fading. He knew it was about the event.
Dean stepped back and brought out his phone, presumably to film.
“Read it out loud, baby,” I told the boy.
“Yes, Sir.” Gael opened the letter and pulled it out, and the front read Acceptance Letter. Then he unfolded it. “‘Dear Little Gael Grimes, we are delighted to inform you that you’ve been accepted at Mclean House Academy.’” He snapped his head up and beamed. “This is so cool—but I don’t remember applying!”
I cracked up and absently stirred the vegetables on the stove.