Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“God,” I muttered. “You’re gonna make me hard in two seconds, baby. You feel so soft and smooth.” I could tell he was extra sensitive, both in the good way and the bad. “No, I’m not joking,” I added as an afterthought. “I want you in Boston with me, Peyton. I want us to build a life there—without leaving the one you’ve made for yourself here.” I went on to explain, hoping he’d understand, that I couldn’t up and leave—or work so far away from headquarters for extended periods of time—but that we could arrange for West Coast summers and holidays.
Easter was the only holiday I wanted to spend in Boston, for Sandra’s mother’s sake. We’d established a tentative tradition of getting together so Mags could see Julia. Mags saw her own daughter in Julia, and it was painful, so I knew it would take a long time before the two would form a more significant bond. I had hopes, though. Mags had been overjoyed when Sandra had announced her pregnancy.
“So yes, I think a summer residence out here would be good,” I said. “Besides, work does sometimes bring us here. Westwater has two locations in Seattle, one in Tacoma, and two in Vancouver. It makes sense.”
Peyton nodded jerkily and pressed his knuckles to his mouth.
“Is something wrong?” I wondered.
He inhaled sharply, his abs clenching. “I’m trying to pay attention, but it’s kinda difficult when you’re fingering me.”
“Ah. In my defense, it’s absurd to think I’d be able to stay away.” I added the second finger and curled them inside him. He slapped his hands to his face and arched his back. Such stunning reactions. “I trust that you understand you’ll go back to the spa regularly from now on.”
He’d never had much hair to begin with, but I couldn’t resist what I was feeling now. It was a miracle I hadn’t already buried my face between his legs. But I suspected the stubble on my chin would hurt him too much.
“Yes, Daddy,” he whimpered under his breath.
I couldn’t resist his cock either. It lay there, hard, pointing toward his abs, and my mouth watered.
“You’re going to have to be quiet,” I whispered. I leaned over his stomach and licked the underside of his cock. At the same time, I started massaging his prostate. “Promise Daddy.”
“I p-p-promise,” he stuttered in a breath. “Oh God.”
I hummed around his cock and took him as far as he’d go.
Epilogue
Four years later
“You need to relax.” I steered Peyton into our bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the bed. “You were supposed to take it easy this summer, not take on extra projects.”
I was incredibly happy for him; his podcast had taken off since it’d been recommended in not one but two history-themed magazines. But since he’d also taken on one gig as a substitute teacher in Boston and one out here in Camassia as a teacher in summer school, he wasn’t getting the rest he needed. Hell, at times, he worked more than I did.
“I was almost done,” he defended petulantly. “And preparing for an interview isn’t an extra project. It’s part of the job. I’ve never interviewed an author for an episode before.” He huffed as I got down on one knee and removed his socks. “For the record, I would’ve finished hours ago if I didn’t have to go through Livie’s notes on your presentation. Does she honestly call that proofing?”
I kept my amusement to myself and unbuttoned his pants. I feared he was stricter toward my office assistant than I was. Peyton refused to let go, for which I was secretly pleased, but Livie was the second-best assistant I’d ever had.
Peyton still worked for me, though he’d cut his hours in order to juggle our rather busy life. He handled everything concerning business trips and bigger projects; Livie was “stationed” outside of my office in her own cubicle. In short, Peyton had become a coordinator and sometimes a bossy little fucker. He knew my schedule better than I did and came and went at headquarters as he pleased.
“You should cut her some slack,” I advised. “She’s doing fine.”
“Oh, is she?” Peyton cocked a brow. “Did you know that she booked you in for Milan in September initially?”
I furrowed my brow and tugged down his pants. “I thought Milan was in August.”
The ratings for our East Coast locations had finally picked up, and now we were planning on rebranding some of our European hotels too. We were targeting two of our most popular lines, including the one geared toward business travelers, which we had renamed with a heavy marketing campaign. Lately, much to my joy, it had become a thing for younger travelers to let people know they were staying at a Westwater Vision hotel.
There were popular hashtags involved. Serious business.