Page 37 of Losing his Daddy

“Yes, sir.”

There it was again. That zing that nearly sent me tumbling to my knees. How could such a normal phrase send me reeling?

Obviously, I knew why. I’d been part of the BDSM scene in one way or another since I reached legal age. I’d had my fair share of lessons on what was what. My friend Tucker, the one who helped me find Gerald, is married to a man who runs a kink club. I’m not stupid about any of it.

But I tried really hard to pretend I was.

Because if I didn’t, I might do something really fucking stupid like tell Gerald how proud I was of him and how much I wanted to hear him say ‘yes, sir’ as I told him to suck my cock.

I left without another word. He didn’t need to see the way my body reacted. And I needed to get ahold of myself before I went to the office with a fucking hard-on.

Chapter Fifteen

Gerald

When I tooklunch to Wes, it felt a bit strange. Mostly it was due to the stares everyone sent my way. Only after he closed us in his office did he admit that he never took visitors. Not even his ex was allowed to come up to see him.

For some odd reason, that made me feel special. I attributed the notion to the novelty of the job itself. It couldn’t be because I liked being more important to him than she had been. Or maybe I had. Either way, I wouldn’t act on it.

We’d enjoyed lunch together, then I’d returned to the apartment to finish my tasks for the day. I’d put on a batch of stuffed peppers since they took a while to cook, and it would give me time to orient myself to the layout of the place. I’d walked through it before, but I was still curious where every nook and cranny was.

Wes came back during my snooping, though he didn’t call me out on it. He merely complimented the aroma of the food cooking, then went about changing from his work clothes to relax. Dinner became a mirror image of lunch, only in a different setting.

As far as jobs went, I couldn’t complain. And while I let my mind wander here and there over the next few days, it becameobvious I’d lucked out when getting this role. Wes wasn’t a hard man to please. So far, he’d enjoyed everything I made him. He was never one to shy away from flavor, nor did he complain about something being too hearty despite his obviously fit form. I didn’t know when he actually worked out, but it was obvious he did.

I’d spent my life around men who worked hard to maintain the land around them. They were all muscular in a way only manual labor could create. Wes was different. His body demonstrated he had a solid gym routine, that he ate a decent amount of protein, and he probably rarely indulged in treats like cake or ice cream.

Days turned into weeks and soon enough, our routine was flawless. We didn’t have to confirm anything because we had synched the calendars on our phones. I knew where he was every second of the day, and he had tabs on me as well.

Mondays were for going to the grocery store. We typically went with takeout for lunch and dinner those days.

Tuesday's lunch was extras from the night before. I always went with something hearty for dinner — the epitome of a home cooked meal. It was also when I did the heavy cleaning, like scrubbing the bathrooms or the oven, if needed.

Wednesday and Thursday were lighter, since I didn’t want to completely destroy the man’s physique. It also proved to be the busiest days of the week for him at work, so something quick and simple meant he didn’t have to take time away from whatever he was working on.

Fridays were my guilty pleasure days. I’d always get us takeout for lunch, because it made sense to enjoy the last day of the workweek. It was a new concept I’d had to learn. Back on the ranch, every day was a workday. I found novelty in Wes’s shortened schedule. Dinners on Friday were an experiment of some kind. I’d taken to testing new recipes on him, some fromHarlan’s collection and others were ones I’d seen on TV or online.

My Pinterest page was nothing but meals by the end of my first month. I’d created a new account to help me organize the house and keep up with everything I needed to do. It also helped me find tips for creating a variety of dishes for Wes to enjoy. It had become somewhat of an obsession since I found his reactions fascinating.

He’d give a deep groan when he loved the smell or taste of something. When he was unsure, his brow would furrow slightly, only just enough to make his nose twitch. Sometimes, we’d disagree about whose meal was better at lunch, and he’d cross his arms while he listened to my side of the discussion. His shirt sleeves would always be folded to his elbows, which meant his forearms would be on display like some dirty Victorian ad for porn.

I hated and loved each moment.

By the end of the first month we had together, I knew Wes’s tastes better than I expected. It’s amazing what you could learn from a person when you spent as many hours with them as we did. Back on the ranch, I was with the guys all the time, but my attention was split. And well, to be fair, I’d been deep in my own world — first with my hidden relationship and then with my addiction. I didn’t have time to focus on one individual like I have with Wes.

I’d argued with myself that it’s only part of the job instead of the fascination I’ve slowly developed for the man. I’m still well within the guiltiness I’d set for myself. So long as I kept the filthier thoughts to myself, then I’d continue to be fine.

Thus far, I hadn’t slipped up. My body and mind were on the same page as far as my day-to-day habits. It was nighttime when I struggled the most to rein in the inappropriate thoughts.

Mornings had become difficult as well. Since my libido had reawakened, I had to deal with morning wood every damn day. Sometimes, I could coach myself down to normal. Other times, I couldn’t move on without conjuring some erotic vision of Wes and me. They were always scenarios in which he was telling me what to do, or I was going above and beyond to serve him.

The illusion was one that mirrored real life far too closely.

I’d become so used to waking up this way that I was rather confused the first time I didn’t. I stared at my soft cock as if it was betraying me. Something was off. I just didn’t know what.

I went through my normal routine of getting ready before it hit me. My heart stopped, the organ stilling as if it only took remembering for all function to fail. I sank to the carpet as I fought to breathe. The weight on my chest was a vise, held tight by memory and time. One of my own making it seemed.

Whiskey.

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