Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
He slapped my ass, and I yelped. “No coming without me.”
“Again?”
“Yes, let’s see if you can do it this time.”
I was so desperate to keep my mind off how much I wanted to jerk off as I replayed every delicious thing Beau had done to me the night before, I started taking random books off the shelf in Remy’s library. I read parts of some of the biographies and histories, and they weren’t nearly as dry and boring as I’d expected them to be.
I paced as I read. The combination of my aching ass and the memory of me and Beau defiling Remy’s reading chair kept me from wanting to sit down there. I didn’t dare go to sit on the couch because I’d forget where I’d taken the books from. Rearranging Remington’s collection was a definite no.
The morning passed much too slowly, but finally Beau returned. I was hoping he’d take me right to bed, and if it hadn’t been way too tempting—I’d tried and ended up with my hand around my dick in seconds—I’d have been waiting for him there.
As he entered, he looked me up and down. All I was wearing was a t-shirt and briefs. I lifted my shirt as he looked, sliding my hand slowly up my stomach.
He growled. “Get dressed while I shower and change.”
“I’ll join you in the shower.”
“No, you’ll get dressed like you were told, and you’ll wear a jockstrap to help you remember the consequences of disobedience.”
I bit my lip to keep from whining at him. Feeling my pants scratch against my ass would be distracting as hell. When I knew I could speak in a sexy voice, I said, “Don’t you want me to help scrub you?”
“If you do, I’ll end up fucking you against the shower wall, and you’re still too sore for that.”
I wanted to protest that I didn’t care, but his stern look told me not to. “There are other ways we could—”
“I’m taking you out this afternoon, and you’re supposed to be learning discipline, remember?”
I’d been disciplined all fucking morning. “Yes, but—”
“I’m hungry, and I’m going to take you out to lunch, so get moving.”
“Yes, sir,” I purred.
He scowled at me before turning to head up the stairs.
I walked slowly behind him, knowing if I got too close I might take a bite of his gorgeous ass.
I headed for his car when we left the house, but he took my hand and pulled me toward the sidewalk. “We’re walking.”
We headed down Dumaine toward the back of the Quarter. We crossed over Burgundy street, the border of the area where tourists were told they were safe—as if you were ever really safe. Not with people like the Theriots and those they took down lurking around. Not to mention all the ghosts and spirits. I’d yet to convince myself they weren’t even more dangerous than the humans.
We stopped in front of a rundown building with a white awning. The door under the awning read Seafood Est. 1947.
“Here?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re some kind of food snob.”
“Hell no. That’s Remy. I’ll try anything.”
He laughed. “Then trust me.”
I’d already trusted him with so much, following him into a sketchy looking restaurant was nothing.
Inside, there were six Formica tables with four teal vinyl chairs at each, the kind that were worth a lot of money on the vintage market, but I was sure these had been in place since the restaurant opened. Some of the chairs were taped up, and one of the tables had a crack along the middle, but everything was clean, including the checkerboard floor.
Three of the tables were occupied, and Beau pointed to one closest to the counter. I took a seat, and in seconds, a white-haired woman came out from the back to take our order.
“Beaumont, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen you.”
“I’ve been busy, Miss Mary Fran. How are you? How’s Mr. Claude?”
“He’s doing fine, even if he won’t listen to his doctor.” She turned to me, eyeing me critically. “Who is this young man?”
“This is Corbin. Corbin, this is Miss Mary Fran. She and her husband Claude make the best étouffée you’ll ever eat.”
“He such a flatterer,” Mary Fran said.
“He is. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Her skeptical look faded, and she gave me a big smile. “You must be something special. He’s never brought a man in here.”
I smiled at Beau as warmth filled my chest. I wanted to be someone he would share special things with—secrets, his past, things he loved to do that no one else knew about.
“Shall I bring out two orders of étouffée?” she asked.
“Yes,” Beau answered without hesitation, “and two Abita Ambers.”
“You got it.” She headed back toward the kitchen.
With anyone else, I would be furious they hadn’t let me order for myself, but with Beau, I liked him taking charge with such confidence. “Thank you for bringing me here.”