Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Too bad we were long past Valentine’s Day. I could’ve sent them cards from each other.
I made magic in this room. I painted ducks, I made James pretty cards, I wrote him love notes, I created fridge magnets, I planned pranks—well, that was a new development—I mended clothes, I drew, and I built knickknacks. I could probably reunite two stubborn Sadists too.
I was even the new prop master in the Brat Squad, for chrissakes!
A ding from my laptop alerted me to a new message, so I spun around again and saw a message from Corey on the Mclean site.
Dude, are you seeing this?
Seeing what?
Before I could ask, a link popped up.
I clicked on it, and it led to a status update. Noa had posted about his day, how he’d had cheesecake with Master Lucian at the Cheesecake Factory. He wished everyone a Happy May Fourth with a Star Wars meme and ended the post with, “And maybe I shouldn’t blow my paycheck on fun stuff all the time, but whatever!”
I snickered. So relatable. James had to earmark a sum for me that I could blow through every month—for both our sakes. Because we really, really loved to travel and see the world, and I’d shoot myself in the foot if I shopped till I dropped as often as the mood struck.
Was this what Corey meant?
I scrunched my nose and scrolled down to the comments, and that was when my eyebrows flew up and I couldn’t fucking believe what I was seeing. Who was that turd? Was it a joke? An inside joke I didn’t understand?
To no one’s surprise, you can’t fend for yourself without the help of not one but two Doms. Lol. Pathetic.
It wasn’t a joke. Kit was the first one who’d responded.
Who goes on someone’s post and writes something like that? This isn’t Facebook. Fuck off.
Corey was the next member who’d replied to the troll.
Is it a habit of yours to spout bullshit about people you don’t know? I wouldn’t brag about it. It’s embarrassing.
Lastly, Gael.
I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that you used to be obsessed with Noa’s Daddy.
Whoa.
I left my seat and threw myself onto the couch, where I grabbed my phone. Since Noa hadn’t replied to the jackass, I didn’t know if he’d seen it or if he was okay. So I texted him.
Are you okay? Corey showed me the comment section with the waste of space.
“Dinner, Jordan!”
“Coming!” I sat up and went back to my convo with Corey. He’d texted again.
Gael screencapped it. Apparently Master Lucian saw it and just had the comment removed, and the user’s been issued a warning. Text Gael if you haven’t seen the comment yet.
I replied.
I saw it. I’m glad it’s gone. What a fucking douchebag. Do you know if Noa’s okay? I texted him a few seconds ago.
I got up from the couch and started heading downstairs. I was usually the one who cooked around here, but James had a dozen or so dishes that he aced like some chef genius. His smoked turkey casserole, for instance. My mouth watered as the scents grew stronger.
Pocketing my phone in my jammie bottoms, I glanced at the pictures we had on the wall along the stairs, and it made me excited for this year’s vacation. We were going back to Europe, this time Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, and Montenegro. One week in each country. We had road trips, a river cruise, two guided tours, and several hikes lined up. Weekend layovers in Paris and London too.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
But first, I sure wanted James and me to have a kinky dynamic established with my sexy Daddy and his husband.
Seriously, if Mister Rigger and I didn’t have chemistry, I was going to cry, because he was so insanely hot. James and I had watched some tutorial videos on the Mclean forum of Nathan tying up both men and women, and he had this quiet, firm dominance about him—as if he was more solid than a mountain. Plus, the way he used his long fingers to work the rope…
Oof.
I wandered into the kitchen where my own hubby waited, and I smiled. He’d showered. After work, when he got out of his utility clothes and took a shower…? He only bothered pulling on a pair of sweats, and his hair was all messy.
“Hey, hot stuff.” I rounded the table to give him a big kiss first.
“Hey, baby.” He smiled into the kiss.
“Sorry about before,” I added and took my seat across from him. “I was concentrating so hard.”
He chuckled and grabbed my plate. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I know how you get.”
Yeah, but still. I was eager to see him after work every day, but if I was smack-dab in the middle of a crafts project, I sometimes had to wait with my hellos. Like today. I was finishing up Ash’s youngest daughter’s door sign, and I didn’t want to mess it up. I’d dug for enough details to know that she loved all the standard girl colors, pink and purple—not pastel; they had to be darker—and she also loved pale yellow. So, yeah.