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)
I’d thought waking up to the smell of coffee and hearing him rustling around the kitchen was the absolute best, but the sound of his sweet giggling clearly topped that.
“Good mornin’, my darlin’ peach.” I tucked my shirt into my pants as I went over to him, and I kissed the top of his head and eyed the feast he was preparing. Scrambled eggs, turkey bacon that wasn’t half bad, actually, grilled tomato halves, toast, and coffee. “You keep spoiling me like this, I’ll never wanna go back home.”
He grinned up at me, goofy and smug. “That’s the goal, Sir.”
He knew how to wrap my heart up in a warm blanket, didn’t he? I cupped his face in my hands and dipped down to get his soft lips. “You don’t know how much you already mean to me, Gael.”
“Ditto,” he whispered.
You can’t be real. Dreams don’t come true like this.
I brushed my thumbs over his soft skin and peered into his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Did you take your insulin, Sir?”
I grinned faintly. “I did.”
“Goodie—then please take your seat,” he said. “I charged your iPad, and my homework that we forgot about last night is waiting on the table.”
Christ. The boy almost rendered me speechless. To be fair, I’d been incredibly distracted by Joshua’s and Gael’s naked bodies from the moment we’d returned from the city.
“You really want to serve me, don’t you?” I murmured.
“So much, Da—Master. I mean Master.”
I narrowed my eyes briefly. This second slip appeared less accidental.
He flashed another smile, one I found a little too innocent, before easing away to plate my food.
Was there something wrong with my title? Did he prefer something else?
I let it go for now and trailed over to the kitchen table by the window. It was still dark out, and it was one of the few things I enjoyed about the winter. Dark mornings, a fire crackling, coffee steaming, and morning slippers warm and soft. He’d even lit a couple candles on the table.
I ignored my iPad and picked up Gael’s little notebook instead, much more interested in seeing what he’d written.
In the meantime, the boy hummed to himself, and I was utterly charmed by another morning with him.
Hello, Sir! Here are the chores I’m hoping to establish with you. I confess, they might contain fantasy elements of Professor/student.
I smirked to myself. At least he was honest.
Chore 1: Breakfast. Totally my turf! I want to prepare your breakfast every morning. And when we don’t spend the night together, perhaps you can stop by Waffled on your way to work, and I can fix you something there.
Oh, I was torn. I wanted to spend every night with him and Joshua—at the same time as I loved the idea of stopping by for a quick breakfast date on my way to work.
Chore 2: Cam takes care of Master Lucian’s dry cleaning, and I want to do that for you also, Sir. And I can shine your shoes too! Cam sent me a tutorial on YouTube.
My chest constricted, though the sensation wasn’t necessarily bad. It was more… It was the gravity of the situation. How quickly he reeled me in and unconsciously showed me a future I desperately wanted.
Given that Gael was, as far as I knew, primarily a Little—or Middle—I didn’t believe our high-protocol structure would take up too much of our time. And as I read, I found myself itching to simply create something for us around these chores. These tasks would be ours. They would belong to him and me. This would be our thing.
Additionally, I had to admit to myself that I didn’t want domestic servitude to take over too much. I glanced over at him as he was pouring my coffee, and it was perfection right there. He might be performing a task for me, but he was also shaking his butt to music only he heard, and today’s pajama set had cartooned waffles on them. That was the boy I wanted to know everything about.
I couldn’t foresee a reality in which I put him on speech restrictions regularly or told him to bow his head when he kneeled for me. I wanted his goofy grins and the ants in his pants to show.
I dropped my stare to the next chore on the list.
Chore 3: I would very much like history homework, like our own private classes. With tests and STUFF. And I can help you sort through papers and books and notes, etc. And clean your office, maybe?
I chuckled under my breath and rested my chin atop my knuckles.
Tests and stuff.
Chore 4: Last but not least! This isn’t a chore as much as a routine I’ve been dreaming about. Like, if you sit in your chair and read or work, I want to sit by your feet and just decompress and be close to you.