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“By the way, you’ll need to get a suit for Coral’s annual fundraising gala,” Elsie informs me, changing the subject.

“A suit? Really?” I chuckle before looking over at her to see her flat expression. “Oh. You’re serious. Okay... Yeah, I don’t own one, but I can go pick up a suit.”

“You don’t own a suit?” She asks, aghast. “We’ll go by my tailor after this appointment.”

“Your tailor?” I ask. “I don’t need a bespoke suit, Elsie.”

“Over my dead body, will you be showing up to my gala wearing a suit off the rack!” She says with conviction. “Or, at the very least, we’re getting something fitted to you.”

Her tone is much like how she takes control and commands me in the bedroom, making my cock thicken at her words.

“As you wish, my Queen.”

Chapter 25

Elsie

August 3 — 31 Weeks, Coconut

“Remind me why I had to stuff myself into this suit again?” Marshall teasingly complains from beside me. “There are plenty of people here in regular dress clothes.”

I look over at Marshall, looking ever so handsome in a dark gray suit that I had my tailor prepare for him. His hair is combed back and, for the first time in my memory, looks neat and styled to perfection.

Marshall’s standard uniform of blue jeans, tight-fitting t-shirts, button-ups at the club, and boots makes me drool on a regular basis. But there will always be something about seeing a man in a suit that takes my breath away.

Tonight, Marshall is no exception.

“Because I’m the host, and my date should follow the dress code I set forth on the invitation,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Fine, but you owe me.” He pouts with a smirk on his face that tells me I’m likely to enjoy the favor I owe him.

Tonight’s gala is for the philanthropy arm of Crude Coral, which helps fund grants for scientists who are doing research and making conservation efforts into ocean life, specifically coral reef restoration.

Every year, we invite executives from our client list and other notorious philanthropists in the city to join us for an evening at the aquarium for a night of frivolous fun. They spend the night seeing and being seen, and the 501c3 arm of Crude Coral benefits from their generosity.

So far, the evening has gone well, and we’ve raised nearly our entire goal for the event, but there’s still a fair amount of glad-handing to be done before I can call it a night.

“Is that Derek Bonner?” Marshall whispers into my ear in awe.

“Who?” I ask, glancing around the room.

“The biggest guy in the room,” Marshall says, nodding over to the left side of the room where a man has amassed a crowd.

“Oh! Yes. Derek.” I say, waiving at the man in question just as he glances over in our direction. “He’s a friend.”

“You’re friends with one of the best left tackles in the league?” Marshall asks, his jaw agape when I glance up at him.

“Well... kind of. His husband, Emir, is on our board. You never met him when you lived with Gunnar?” I ask with a shrug. “I’ve gotten to know Emir and his husband quite well over the past few years. His and Gunnar’s security firm consults with us on all our projects.”

Marshall is, for once, speechless.

“I’m guessing you’re a fan?” I ask with a chuckle.

“Fan? Fan! Elsie... he’s a queer icon. He was one of the first openly bisexual professional players in the league.” Marshall scoffs. “That man could step on me, and I would say thank you.”

“Ah. A boot-blacking kink. I see how it is.” I giggle.

“Elsie.” He says, pinching me in the side. “He’s genuinely inspiring to so many people, especially young athletes. I have a few guys on my old crew whose kids idolize him.”

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