Page 123 of Craving Their Omega

His eyes soften, and in them I see that fatherly pride once again. “I would be proud to be there, Ms. Penelope.”

We fall into silence for a bit, and then he clears his throat a little. “It might not be my business…” he starts.

“Don’t let that stop you,” I tease.

He flashes me a smile. “I remember the first time we met,” he says. “And I’ve seen how things have changed since then. You’ve been good for them, your Alphas. I’ve known Mr. Blackwell for a while now, and I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s been open and warm, and I would have said that was out of character for him just a few months ago.”

I smile, warmed all the way through by that. It’s one thing to see the changes myself, and another for a third party to say that he sees them too. “They’ve been good for me too, really. They make me better than I was, so I’m glad it goes both ways.”

I wave at Jonas after he drops me off and let myself into the house. It’s quiet inside, and I call out to see if anyone’s home.

Xavier answers, his voice echoing from the back patio, so I make my way through the house to the sliding door to join him.

He grins at me, meeting me with a kiss.

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask him.

“Still at the office. They’re going over budgets and stuff, and my brain turned off as soon as I saw the spreadsheet, so they sent me home.”

I laugh. “You mean you wouldn’t sit still and started making jokes, so they sent you home for their own sanity?”

“Got it in one,” he says, pointing at me. “But the joke’s on them because that means I get to be home with you instead of there doing budgets.”

I drop onto one of the chaises that are lined up on the patio and sigh gratefully. My back cracks when I stretch, and I toe my shoes off, relaxing into the cushion.

Xavier watches me with a smile and warmth in his eyes, “How’re things coming?” he asks.

“They’re coming. I know I’m just being nitpicky about things now because there’s not much left to do before I open. I made the same scone recipe three times today because I wanted to make sure the strawberry ratio was perfect. I know it’sgood, but I keep asking myself ‘is it perfect?’.”

Xavier moves to sit on the wooden patio floor in front of my chaise. He gathers one of my feet in his hands and starts massaging it, rubbing his thumbs into the arch in a way that makes me hiss with pleasure and pain. He works out a kink, and my body practically melts.

“Oh, you’re good at that,” I sigh. “That feels really good.”

“You’ve been on your feet all day,” he says. “You deserve to be pampered a little. And I wouldn’t worry so much about things being perfect. People are going to come because you can taste the love and care you put into your food, shortcake. They’re going to come because it’s you.”

“You’re very sweet, you know that?” I grin at him as he moves to my other foot. “And very, very good with your hands. You’re so good to me.”

His eyes darken, and I catch it when he shivers a little. I remember what he said about having a praise kink, and it’s clear that he wasn’t exaggerating.

“You really like that, don’t you?” I ask him. “When I tell you how good you are for me. When I praise you for it?”

Xavier nods, looking up at me. “You have no idea.”

A sudden impulse fills me, and my blood heats as an idea takes root in my mind. I pull my foot from his hold and get up from the chaise, feeling his eyes on me as I go sit on the stone wall around the patio.

It’s high enough for what I want, and I hold my hand out to Xavier.

“Do you really want to be a good boy for me?” I ask.

“Fuck,” he murmurs on a shaky exhale. “I really do.” His cock is already tenting the front of his pants, and I feel a rush of power from being able to turn him on like this.

I smile at him, holding out a hand. “Then get on your knees and crawl to me.”

His eyes go wide, but he does it immediately, dropping down to his hands and knees and crawling across the patio to where I’m perched. His cheeks are flushed, but there’s no mistaking the desire in his eyes when he looks up at me. He wants this and wants it badly.

“Good boy,” I praise him, reaching down to stroke my fingers through his hair. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

He nods. “I’m trying to be.”

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