Page 21 of Daddy Down Under

But before I could get all in my head about it, Ocean curled his hand around my neck and pulled me down. Grateful I didn’t have to look at him, I went with it. When he nudged my face into his groin, I sighed, opened my mouth, and suckled his soft cock. I closed my eyes, and the tension seeped from my body like I had melted against him.

Ocean put his hand on my head. “Good,” he said, his voice somehow deeper than usual. “You’re so good.”

He must’ve misspoken. Surely he’d meant to say it felt good, right? But I didn’t care. My insides lit up like a bonfire, a celebration of something new and momentous. I was good, and everything was well now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

In which I refuse to wear thongs and Ocean doesn’t want to leave. Thank fuck.

I’d fallen asleep again,which surprised me. Sleeping well was not a habit of mine, and for the first time in months, maybe even longer, I felt rested. The grogginess from earlier had made place for an alert energy, the kind I hadn’t felt in a long time. Strange. Maybe blowjobs had restorative quantities I should look into. You’d think I would’ve discovered those by now though.

Whatever. I was grateful to feel good, and I’d take it. Ocean was in the shower, and I had to resist the urge to peek. Stupid because I’d already seen him naked and had been fed the man’s perfect cock until I gagged, but somehow, this felt more intimate. Instead, I stood in front of the closet, where Ocean had neatly hung all my clothes, trying to pick an outfit.

He’d been right. I had done a half-assed job of packing, only grabbing business attire and no casual clothes whatsoever. Oops. That should teach me not to pack while I was upset. Or not to pack for myself in the first place. Oliver always did that for me, and I’d never lacked anything. He was so goddamn good at his job. Hell, he’d even managed to book me this suite on such short notice. Either he had connections, or he’d thrown money at it. Spoiled as it sounded, there were very few problems money couldn’t solve.

A knock on the door startled me. “Who’s there?”

“The concierge, Mr. Sullivan. I have your purchases.”

My purchases? Had Ocean already ordered something during my first nap? “One moment.”

I quickly put on pants and a white T-shirt, then hurried to the door.

“Good evening, Mr. Sullivan.” Mike flashed me a genuine smile. “I have all your purchases for you.”

He had a whole cart of packages and bags from different stores and brands, ranging from shoe boxes sporting the familiar swoosh logo to Calvin Klein—that had to be my new underwear—and Jesus, had Ocean gotten me flip-flops? I stepped aside and held the door open. “Thank you. You can put them right here.”

As Mike wheeled them in and started unloading, I hunted down my wallet. Fuck, I didn’t have Australian dollars yet, just US currency. I’d never been so unprepared for a trip in my life. When he was done, I cleared my throat. “Can you exchange US dollars? If not, I’ll have to find an ATM and tip you as soon as I have cash.”

He shook his head. “You already tipped me, Mr. Sullivan. Or your assistant did when he stopped by.”

My assistant? How did Oliver…? Oh wait. Ocean. He must’ve told the concierge he was my assistant, which made sense. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have executed his requests. But did that mean Ocean had left the room while I’d been asleep? I’d never even noticed. “Oh, okay. Good. I wasn’t aware.”

“No problem at all.”

He took the cart with him, leaving me with the Mount Everest of packages and bags. What the hell had Ocean bought for me? Since I was currently going commando in my slacks, I started with the Calvin Klein bags. Yup, he’d gotten me tight black boxer briefs that looked like they’d fit me perfectly. Awesome. What else? I didn’t even recognize half the labels.

“Oh good. Your stuff arrived.”

I hadn’t even noticed the shower turning off. Ocean had a towel wrapped around his waist, looking like a sun-kissed Greek god. A few droplets meandered down his chest, and I had a hard time looking away. He was so fucking hot. “Did you buy from every store in Melbourne?” I asked when I finally had control over my voice again.

“Nah, not even close. But you can’t walk around in suits and ties for four weeks.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “And why not, pray tell? I rarely wear anything else, even at home.”

“Yeah, well, suits are perfectly acceptable in New York, but this is Australia. Fashion is less stuffy and formal here and more edgy and daring than on conservative Wall Street. I got you everything from beach chic to sustainable casual and the most gorgeous boots you’ll ever own from an Australian brand called R.M. Williams.”

Beach chic? What the hell did that even mean? “I’ll take your word for it, but that doesn’t explain the flip-flops.”

“Thongs.”

My eyes widened. “You got me thongs? I’m not wearing thongs. I highly doubt I can pull them off, but even more importantly, they’re incredibly uncomfortable. The two times I wore one, my asshole was rubbed raw from the friction.”

He snorted, slapping his hand in front of his mouth. “Oh, I would’ve loved to see that.”

“Not happening, so if you bought any, I suggest you return them.”

“I didn’t.”

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