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“Are you okay? Is it too much?”

I shake my head, then clarify. “It’s not too much, and yes, I’m okay. I love it.”

“Good boy. I’ll check the hallway, and if no one’s there, I’ll sneak out. Lock the door behind me and take whatever time you have for the rest of your break. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done. I can’t wait to see what you choose for me to eat. You’re so good to your Sir.”

Pride makes my chest expand, but also makes it feel full in this way that only Marshall can do for me. “Thank you for taking such good care of me…” But also giving me the freedom to be myself, to be independent. Those things coexist when it comes to us.

“I love you.” He kisses my cheek, grabs his bag, and goes to the door. “All clear. Lock it behind me. Text me if you need me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once I ensure no one can accidentally walk in on me, I go back to the mirror, looking at myself. I’ve never worn any of the things Sir has used to dress me up, but I like the feel of them all—the fullness, the way the lacy fabric rubs against my skin when I move, and most surprisingly, the plastic of the cage around me. Would I want to do this all the time? No, but the thought of spending my evening this way, of serving Sir in public without anyone knowing… The truth of what is beneath my clothes feels like the dirtiest but sexiest secret.

I smile, take a few deep breaths, then leave the bathroom—and almost run into Reggie.

“What did you guys do?” he whispers, and my grin grows.

“We didn’t fuck, but I can’t confirm or deny if I’m wearing lace, a cock cage, and a butt plug right now.”

Reggie’s eyes nearly fall out of his head. “Holy…are you…wow…I can’t even settle on one sentence.”

“Methinks someone might be a little more interested than they thought.”

“I have to admit I’m curious.”

Which again reminds me of what Sir said about Reggie. Will he change his mind now that we’re in love? Will he think that means I don’t want him? That he’s not enough for me? Those things couldn’t be further from the truth, and I trust that he knows that. Maybe I’ll talk to him before I mention it to Reggie, just in case.

“I’ll get back to work. I need to go tell the kitchen what I want Marshall to eat.”

Reggie nods, and I feel his eyes on me as I go, but they’re nothing like the heat of Sir’s gaze…like Sir is picturing what’s beneath my clothes and is struggling to control himself. The power in that—in giving myself to him and knowing the effect it has on him—is everything, made even better when I go to the kitchen and choose the perfect dinner for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Marshall

He chose apork chop with a spicy honey, mashed potatoes, and charred carrots—nothing I would have picked on my own—but as Jay watches while I take my first bite, I can’t deny that the moan slipping from my mouth is because it’s delicious and not because I want to see him beam at me—which he does, brilliantly.

“You really like it?” He shifts while waiting for my answer. In all fairness, that could also be because he’s plugged, caged, and wearing panties.

“I do. I’ve never had spicy honey before and certainly never with pork. It’s delicious.”

“Good. The carrots are fab too, but they feel like they’re missing just a little something. I’m still trying to figure out what, and I’ll talk to the chef about it.”

I study him, wondering if he sees how much food means to him. He enjoys waiting tables, working with people, and feeding them, but does he see that he gets jittery with excitement when he speaks about it? That his eyes light up? That food seems to be a part of who he is?

“What?” He wrinkles his cute little nose.

I’m still trying to work through how to talk to him about it because I don’t want Jay to think I’m pushing something on him, or that I think there’s something wrong with him enjoying what he does and not wanting anything more—because there’s not. I don’t care what he does as long as he’s happy, and he clearlyis. “Nothing. You should probably get that plugged ass of yours back to work.”

He grins. “Yes, Sir.”

When he walks away, I try the carrots. They taste incredible. I can’t find anything they’re missing, but then, I don’t have a taste for food in the same way Jay seems to. While we said he would cook at least once a week, he’s done so many times over the past eight days. On days he’s not working, he’s been making all the meals.

John and Callie should taste the things he makes. Do they even know this about him?

Likely not, considering I just discovered it, and I’m not confident that Jay has put it all together. As always, thinking about them leaves a gaping wound inside me, and while I’m trying to pretend it’s not there, it continues to grow.

I miss my brother. It’s not as if we talked every day before, but now I want to text him every time I wake up. Want to ask him about work or talk shit with him or just enjoy the banter we’ve always shared. When the only constant in your life is suddenly gone, how do you continue on? I can’t see my life without him in it.

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