Page 63 of Are You There, Moriarty?

* * * *

I woke up alone in a strange bed. I couldn’t remember where I was until I saw the framed photo of Alastair’s childhood dog on the bedside table, because we’d had a conversation about it before we’d gone to sleep. Everything came back to me then, and I was overwhelmed by vivid memories.

I’d been properly fucked by Mr. Alastair Kenney in his own home. We were sort of dating. And he thought I might be the right person for…something. I tried not to let it go to my head.

His bedroom was pretty in the daylight. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, but what he did have looked expensive. I could hear him moving around downstairs.

I turned onto my back and touched my nipple, where Alastair had sucked and teased me before jerking me off onto my own stomach. He’d played with me like I was a special new toy, and I’d soaked up the welcome attention.

The stairs creaked, and in a moment, Alastair came in with a cup of coffee.

“Good morning!”

I squinted and propped myself on my elbow, reaching for the mug.

“Good morning, Sir.”

Alastair’s eyes widened, and he smiled.

“You look so fucking sexy in my bed.”

I blew on the hot coffee, holding Alastair’s gaze, then took a sip. It was strong and rich, like him. Okay, maybe he wasn’t rich rich, but he seemed to have a lot more money than I did.

“Do I? I feel like I fucked ten guys last night.”

“No, it was only me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Do you see any dead bodies lying around?”

I laughed but made a good show of checking. “Nope.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. He was wearing gray sweatpants, for fuck’s sake, and I could see the outline of his dick under the material, all relaxed and sated but still very sexy—and a white T-shirt, which made him look delectable. I liked him in his suits, don’t get me wrong, but I could get used to this, too.

“So…listen. It’s Sunday. Do you have to work today?” he asked, his gaze landing on my lips as I sipped the coffee.

“At Molly’s? No.”

“Hmm. How convenient. I also don’t have to go to work today.”

“What a coincidence!” I exclaimed.

“Listen, Toby,” he said, with a serious frown. “I have a very important question to ask you.”

My blood went cold. He sounded so somber.

“Uh…sure.”Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

“Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?”

The breath caught in my throat, and I realized I’d been had.

“Hardy, har, har. Pancakes all the way…if you’re offering.”

“I am offering.”

“Then I’m accepting.”

---