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Christ—he’s adorable. Angels in heaven, complete with rosy cheeks and soft wings, aren’t as sweet.
I issue him a curt wave. "I’m so glad you took me up on my offer."
Here’s how this play weekend came to be. After Cory woke up from his nap, he was nervous to find himself all alone in the Little’s nap room with me. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself fall asleep in front of a total stranger who could’ve hurt him.
Gently, I guided his gaze toward the cameras—and informed him that the club, which is one of the finest in Manhattan, monitors every bit of activity in their rooms.
I told him that, like him, I was also hesitant to be totally alone with him—although for different reasons.
I asked if he’d like to spend a weekend with me so we could grow more comfortable with each other—surrounded by my personal servants.
Yes, I have servants. As a multimillionaire who sold my business to a hedge fund five years ago, I’d be a fool not to.
Cory loved that idea—he said it made him feel welcome. Unlike his last relationship.
Cory rushes forward and buries me in a hug. "We’re going to have a wonderful time."
As I tousle his hair, I think about the activities I’ve planned. Blocks—a must. Every Little loves blocks. Dinosaur toys—couldn’t forget those. Cory clung to the dino stuffies in the green bed in the nap room, which told me I had to include them in our playdate.
Lastly, race cars—Cory admitted he adored race cars before we left the club. He said that if he could embrace his inner Little while he played with cars, he’d know that he was over the trauma regarding his ex.
I told him not to be silly. Getting over a garbage relationship takes time—it doesn’t happen in a single weekend.
Still, the playtime we’ll share will be an excellent start on the path toward recovery.
I run my palms down his lower back, stopping before I reach his ass. My sole purpose and mission in life right now is to prove to him that I’m a safe haven, a bastion of protective warmth, unlike his shitty ex-boyfriend.
I’m excited to hear him open up about his past. Hopefully, he shares more than at the club.
"Let’s head inside, sweet boy."
Cory blushes. "I love when you call me that."
I stroke his neck. "My servants are waiting."
This gets Cory’s attention. Turning pinker, he ticks his gaze up. "Fancy."
I snicker as I tuck a strand of hair over his left ear. "They’re excited to serve you."
Chapter 4
Cory
When the first servant bows to welcome me into Leaf’s flat, I think it’s a fluke. I mean—no one’s ever bowed before me.
When the second servant—then the third—repeats the motion, I know they haven’t mistaken me for some foreign prince that Leaf’s having over for lunch.
Nope—they intended to bow in front of me. Little me. Even though I’m only wearing a white cotton shirt with palm trees (yes, lots of my clothes have palm trees—and yes, I was dishonest when I pretended not to like palm trees in the club) and khakis that hug my tight booty—not exactly fancy attire.
"For you, sweet one." One servant hands me a pillow with a chocolate.
Tears well in my eyes. This is too kind. "Thank you."
Leaf’s firm hand massages my lower back. "My servants have been expecting you all week. Ever since I told them about the pretty boy I met in the club."
An angel plays a harpsichord in my heart. Lifting my head, I stare at Leaf, gazing into his eyes, to see if he’s messing with me.
Daddy Thomas… never spoke to me this way. He’d scoff at the thought of servants bowing before me, as if I wasn’t worthy of such a gesture.
