Page 28 of Fitch

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” he said. “Especially at Nolan’s house. I assumed he... was your client, and I got irrationally angry.”

My gaze shot to his then. “Angry? What for? You know what I do, right?”

He closed his eyes and let out a controlled breath. “Yes. I do. And I can only deal with that fact knowing they’re faceless,nameless men. Not a friend and colleague. I know he likes twinks...”

He frowned and shook his head as if he was mad at himself for saying that.

“Is that what you have in common?”

He shot me a fierce glare. “Yes. Among other things.”

“Well, he doesn’t like me.” There was no way I was telling Dom that I’d asked Nolan several times to take me in for a week instead of Benji. Pretty sure this was not the right time for that. “He likes Benji, if you didn’t notice. I assume Nolan told you how they met?”

He sighed for real this time, his shoulders deflating a little. “Yes.”

We were quiet for a moment then. “So,” I said, breaking the silence. “Were you jealous when you thought he was paying me? Or is that your daddy-possessive side? Not that it really matters, I guess, because either way, that was hot as fuck.”

His eyes met mine and he growled, more playful this time, and I relaxed immediately.

“You told me to order you to your knees,” he whispered. “In front of them.”

“I thought you’d like it,” I admitted. “A little surprised you didn’t want me to kneel at your feet at the end there.”

Dom’s nostrils flared. “Not in front of people. I told you before, not in public.”

“Benji and Nolan aren’t public. They get it,” I said with a shrug.

We drove in silence for a bit and it was a little while before I realised he was driving me to my place, not his.

“So, no punishment tonight for doing the wrong thing?” I asked, my voice quiet.

I couldn’t help feeling as if I’d disappointed him or failed to be a good boy for him, and I hated it.

It was the worst feeling ever. Like a steel band around my chest, it burned and squeezed, uncomfortable at first, then to the point of pain.

Was he going to kick me out?

Was he going to say he was ending our agreement?

Had I pushed him too far, the way I usually did?

God, why did it hurt so much?

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice cracking.

Stupid emotions burning hot in my eyes and closing my throat.

Dom’s head whipped around to see me and when I had to wipe away a stupid fucking tear, he pulled the car into a no-parking lane.

“Fitch,” he said, alarmed. “Are you crying?”

That, of course, made it so much worse.

“You’re taking me back to my place,” I said, gesturing to the street we were on. “I’m sorry I acted out of turn. I never meant to disappoint you. If you don’t want me anymore...” I said, pressing my hand against my sternum. “Knowing I disappointed you fucking burns me, daddy.”

He undid my seatbelt and pulled me across the centre console and into his lap. “No, baby boy, no,” he murmured, wrapping me up in his arms and holding me tight.

It was a crammed fit between him and the steering wheel—my legs still reached over to my seat—but he didn’t seem to care. He pressed his hand to the back of my head and held me. “You didn’t disappoint me. You’re such a good boy. I wasn’t prepared to see you at Nolan’s. I was out of place, and you were being a brat in front of them. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or inadequate. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

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