Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Oh! Is he flying there?” Kit asked.
I nodded and carved a slice of jerky with my folding knife. “He just joined the C-17 demo team on the West Coast.”
Kit dropped his jaw. “Oh. My. God.”
I grinned and chewed on the best jerky a man could ask for. Christ, every Christmas—it was one of the best gifts. Smoky-sweet, with a generous dose of big game.
I wondered how Kit would react the day I told him he’d get to fly with Andy at Miramar. Luke had declined, stating he only flew planes with drink service, so he’d be on the ground while Kit and I watched a couple dozen paratroopers jump out of a C-17.
“Pop quiz,” I said abruptly. “What’s the wingspan of a C-17?”
Kit shot straight up and didn’t miss a beat. “It’s 169 feet and ten inches, Sir!”
Christ almighty, my little geek. I chuckled and took him at his word. Fuck if I knew. I could ramble specs about my Viper in my sleep, but that was about it. I was fairly good with the Eagle and the Raptor too.
Luke tugged on Kit’s pajama bottoms. “You’re quite the encyclopedia, young sir. Sit down and eat your cupcake. We don’t need more frosting on this couch.”
Kit snickered and plopped back down, and he carefully peeled down the wrapper on his cupcake before he bit into the top with an audible “owrrmph.”
I couldn’t describe with words how fucking cute he was.
My chest swelled and tightened uncomfortably, the irrational worries intensifying. What if he did want to play with other Tops? What if he began hungering for arrangements and dynamics outside what we had? We wouldn’t exactly be able to blame him for it. He was so young.
If I considered how many times I’d changed my mind about relationships at that age… On the other hand, I’d always been monogamous. Commitment was another matter. At twenty-two, I’d fucked my way through the gay population of every Air Force town I’d lived in—twice. It wasn’t until I hit thirty that I’d had my first real relationship.
Luke was my first forever. Just like I was his.
Kit was supposed to be our second and last.
I was losing it. Halfway into the holiday flick, I couldn’t even say what it was about.
Whenever Kit gigglesnorted and laughed, I had to refocus and refix my gaze on the screen. Elves were running around, Vince Vaughn was handsome as usual, and Santa couldn’t deliver gifts on time.
Luke kept glancing my way, and I didn’t know what to do. I knew I was being obvious to him. For one, I wasn’t lying down like I usually did when it was movie time. For two, I was squeezing the shit out of a stress toy Kit had given me just the other week. The boy had noted I got stressed out from work sometimes, so he’d spent “all the quarters” to win a stress toy shaped like a baby shark from a gumball machine for me. How fucking sweet was that?
The toy sure saw action too. Less when I was stressed, more when I was irrationally worried about my boy running off with another Daddy Dom.
The whole thing was ridiculous. I didn’t need Luke or Greer reminding me. But for the sake of argument, who might Kit be interested in? Greer was a nonissue. We had trust, friendship, chemistry, experience, and attraction. He and Kit together wouldn’t worry me much—despite how I’d behaved this morning. I’d let that go. We could easily go the playdate route and have fun together, with the boys at the center of our attention. And then what? Or who? KC? Beau? Nathan? How was I gonna stomach that?
“I think this is a good spot to take a little break,” I heard Luke say. His words pulled me back to the present, and I reckoned he was going to the bathroom. “We should talk a bit about expectations for tomorrow before we get too tired.” He pressed pause on the movie.
So no bathroom break?
“I expect to have fun!” Kit grinned and crawled up on Luke’s lap. “What else is there to talk about?”
Luke chuckled and combed his fingers through the boy’s messy hair. “How about playtime?”
Kit perked up.
I frowned.
“We’re gonna play tomorrow?” Kit asked.
“Yeah, are we?” I wondered.
Luke gave me a pointed look. “I think that’s a fair assumption when you put twenty kinksters in a room with alcohol and merciless teasing between Sadists and brats.”
“The Sadists are worse,” Kit insisted. “We’re innocent.”
I wasn’t gonna dignify that with a response.
Luke didn’t take the bait either. “Will you be innocent under the mistletoe as well, little one?”
Aw, hell. He was gonna broach the topic I was hoping to avoid, and he was doing it via the mistletoe discussion. Which wasn’t so much a discussion as it was a quick mention and a note with limits.