Page 44 of Daddy Christmas

Daddy came out soon again, and he’d bought something for me too.

“Cocoa with extra marshmallows for my boy.” He kissed my temple, then dove right back into work talk with Toby.

I did my best to contain my ridiculous grin.

DECEMBER 18

Oh my gosh, London was so cool and old!

I stifled a yawn and kept my face all but plastered to the window so I could see as much as possible. It was only Daddy and me in the back of one of those classic London taxis, so I didn’t feel the need to put my adult face on.

“You have a choice to make, baby boy,” Daddy said. “We don’t have dinner plans, so either I make us a reservation, or we order room service.”

Fuck. As much as I wanted to go out, I was so damn tired. I barely knew what day it was, much less the time. The stop in New York had only messed with my grasp of reality further.

I turned to him and chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Am I a terrible tourist if I want room service and our naked butts in bed?”

“Yes.” He grinned faintly. “But you’re my perfect boy.”

I lit up. “Are you tired also?”

That made him chuckle. “Sweetheart, I’m dead on my feet.”

Room service and naked butts for the win!

* * *

Daddy traveled in style. We were talking view of the Thames and Tower Bridge, big windows, giant bed, hot tub in the bathroom, and a mini bar that failed with the “mini” part. It was stocked weirdly too. Like, on top of the fridge was an actual candy bar with fancy selections of chocolate Santas, fudge, and colorful lollipops and gummy sweets.

I couldn’t help but slow down at the sight. “Whoa.”

Daddy grabbed my bag and kissed the top of my head. “Go nuts. And maybe thank Suravi. She saw they were offering different packages, so I told her to pick the most Christmassy one.”

Holy crap. “I can actually take something here?”

He found that amusing. “I hope you take more than something. It’s already paid for.”

I snapped my gaze back to the candy and swallowed.

I’d died and gone to freaking heaven, hadn’t I?

“Just save me some roasted cashews,” he went on. “Now, how about you take a bath while I call room service?”

* * *

How could you not love taking baths? Especially when you had an enormous hot tub and massive amounts of bubbles. Daddy was cray-cray. After ordering room service to be delivered at seven thirty, he opted to take a shower instead, ’cause the fancy-pants suite had a separate shower room.

Rich people, I swear.

In the meantime, I dove between the mountains of bubbles and occasionally treated my butt to a massage by one of the jets. My view didn’t hurt either. I could see straight into the shower stall where Daddy was showering.

“I feel an immense love toward your butt, Daddy.”

It was mad sexy.

He chuckled and stepped under the spray to wash off the shampoo. “I feel the same about yours, little love.”

Oh. Little love? That was new.

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