Page 40 of For You, Sir

He swallowed and wiped his lips primly, then looked up at me with adid-I-do-good?expression that melted my insides. Impeccably sweet, but so lewd, I wanted to have him all over again.

“God, Jun. Felt incredible.” I sighed contentedly, and he broke into a modest smile. I drew him to his feet, gave him a kiss, and pulled him in for a hug. His bare chest against mine felt soothing and right. I cradled his head in my palm, and he relaxed into me, leaning against my neck.

I didn’t know how Jun felt about it, but I’d always been a little cuddly after sex. The contact felt grounding. I whisked back the comforter and blankets and crawled into bed. “Come here.”

He looked shy, but didn’t hesitate, sliding in beside me, wearing nothing but those weird, kinky sock-things. I pulled the blanket over us both, and he snuggled close against me. I put an arm around him and idly stroked his shoulder. He had goosebumps and his body was tense. I kissed the top of his head.

“Hey, thanks for helping me,” I said lightly. “This bed isn’t so bad when you’re in it.”

He exhaled a laugh, and the tension dissolved like I’d hoped. “I’m glad, Sir.” He slid an arm around my ribs, loosely at first, then clinging tight and scooching closer. I could smell sex and the sandalwood fragrance of his hair product.

His body’s heat seeped into mine, and his goosebumps faded as I warmed him up, too. Under the blanket, we were two mated animals entwined for the winter. My mind wandered, floaty and poetic, as I stroked his arm and shoulder.

After a quiet moment, Jun clung to me tighter and tighter. He shuddered against me, and I heard a hitch in his breath. Was he crying? I couldn’t tell. Maybe a little post-coitaltristesse. I got that way a little sometimes, too, so I didn’t put him on the spot.

You’re okay, Jun. I’ve got you.I smoothed my hand along his side in long, languid strokes. Gave him a kiss on the forehead and breathed my warm breath into his hair.

Chapter 16 (Jun)

My stomach fluttered when I approached Sir’s door the next morning. It felt like things had changed irreversibly between us. Certainly, I felt transformed by the experience, but I couldn’t assume Sir felt the same. We were still butler and client, and I needed to purport myself as such. I unlocked the door and fixed my face into a mask of calm, even while vivid sexual fantasies kept needling me.

Sir was lounging on the couch, reading. His hair was tied back, and he wore reading glasses, which made him look stern and mature—like a high-ranking government agent about to bust me for an unforgiveable infraction. He glanced up at me over the rim of those glasses, and excitement prickled up the back of my neck.

“Good morning, Sir.” I spoke in the polite, neutral tone I always used when greeting a client. Professional. Nothing to see here. But inside, I thought:I know what you look like naked.

“Morning, Jun.” Sir smiled and took off his glasses, tossing them on the coffee table. He set the document on the table as well—a hole-punched stack of white paper held together with brass brads. A script?

I knew how touchy Sir could be about his writing, so I said nothing, but hope swelled in my chest as I headed to the kitchen. Was it a screenplay of Sir’s? Someone else’s? Anything in the realm of movie-making felt like progress.

While drifting through the motions of making coffee, I daydreamed about Sir sitting tall in his director’s chair, wearing those sophisticated glasses, and directing the sex scene fromCorrupted Crown. But instead of the lead couple, he was directing me with firm commands, telling me to assume vulnerable positions. And when I couldn’t get it right, he would storm towards me and give me a hands-on demonstration…

Ugh.I was so horny, it was like being a teenager all over again. Ever since having sex with Sir, I kept thinking about doing it again. I was like a man who’d lived on nothing but stale bread all his life, finally allowed to eat the cake and croissants I’d always craved. Eager to make a glutton of myself.

Sir took his usual seat at the island, and the kitchen felt cozier with him near me. I started making his breakfast, laying two strips of bacon in a pan like I always did, but it felt a little different now. Not just a routine task—I was cooking a “morning after” breakfast for my lover.

“How’s that computer project coming along?” Sir asked. He kept glancing between me and something on his phone, probably checking his email.

“You’ll find it much easier to navigate,” I said. “I’ll have it completed by the end of the day.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” He put his phone away and rested his chin in his hand, watching me.

“I’ve updated your security and antivirus software on all your devices. That should prevent any backdoor access that might have…” I stopped myself just in time.

“Might’ve got my script leaked?” Sir finished.

I glanced at him, feeling guilty, but he didn’t look upset. He wore the thoughtful, faintly amused expression he usually had when we chatted. “Thanks, Jun. If it’s good enough for you, then I know I’m secure.”

I smiled, pleased that he placed his trust in me.

He started picking at a loose thread on a cloth napkin folded on the counter. “Did you ever figure out who did it?” he added in a quieter tone.

“No, Sir. I’m afraid that’s beyond my technical know-how.”

He gave a bittersweet smile, looking down at his hands. “That’s okay. In fact, I’ve been thinking… I don’t really want to know who did it. I mean, what difference would it make? The worst has already happened. If I took the guy to court, it would just reopen old wounds.”

I gently cracked an egg into the rendered bacon grease, biting back the retort that sprang to mind:That’s why I don’t want to take the Olsens to court!But for now, I needed to stay focused on Sir.

“Since the worst has already happened, as you said,” I ventured cautiously, “then things can only get better, right?”

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