Chapter Twelve
Bunny
F avourite things. The bright blue of my master’s eyes. The deep frown between his dark blond brows when he studies me and thinks I don’t notice. If I didn’t know him by now, I would think I’d done something to upset or annoy him, but I know that it’s just his ‘ East is serious and focused’ look. Because if I drop something on the floor—like I’ll do in five seconds—he’ll come rushing, fussing over me, making sure that I’m okay. See? The stack of empty boxes I was carrying has hardly hit the floor before he’s at my side.
“Bunny,” he grunts, raising a brow at me. “What have I told you? Leave the heavy stuff to me.” I snort as he looks me up and down, wearing that frown I just want to lick at until it goes away. Because I love it the moment it reappears, my grumpy East returning to me. “Are you all right, darling?” he says, his voice growing softer, tender.
“Yes, East.” I bat my eyelashes at him. “I’m quite all right.” I suck on my bottom lip. He groans, shifting on his feet.
“Not now,” he hisses, leaning in, his breath hot against my ear. “Not here. ”
“Yes, Master.” I blink at him, going for my best oblivious Bunny look. He groans even louder.
“Don’t.” His piercing blue eyes sparkle and I know I’m in for it later. Maybe he’ll finally stuff me with that plug. The one with the fluffy white bunny tail on it. I’m dying to get stuffed, to feel it’s cool smoothness inside me, while my master hopefully fucks me with it while he blows me. I’ve asked him several times already, but he insists— ugh —that I’m not ready. What does he know? I’m so ready. Beyond ready.
Of course, East doesn’t know that I’ve been practising at home. That’s the thing about carrots; people don’t realise they have so many purposes, aside from eating them, of course. They make perfect dildoes, actually. They’re solid, hard, and you can get them in all sorts of shapes and sizes. There are slim ones and fat ones. Straight ones and crooked ones. They have ridges that feel amazing when you slide them in and out of your hole, just mind-blowingly amazing. I’ve been practising a lot. I want to be ready for my master for when he finally gives in. Which I hope is soon because, you know, this bunny is dying to be stuffed.
“Stop it,” he grits, his pupils dilated, sweat beading across his oh so serious forehead. I want to lick that too. Just drink it right down.
“I didn’t do anything,” I pipe up.
“You were moaning,” he says, his voice low, a subtle warning in the ‘ you ’ that gets me instantly hard.
“Oh,” I giggle. “Oopsie. Sorry about that.” I blink. Oblivious Bunny is back. He shakes his head, but I don’t miss the smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth that he’s fruitlessly trying to fight. “Get back to work. There’s a couple coming by at three to discuss some ideas for custom chocolate for their upcoming wedding. ”
“ Eeeep !” I squeal, bouncing on my heels. “That’s so exciting! I love weddings.” I think. I’ve never been to one, but they strike me as the place where all pastel colours go to shine. Like one huge pastel colour convention. Like the Oscars only for pastel colours. And the Oscar goes to—
“You’ll be on your best behaviour, won’t you, Benjamin?” he interrupts my wayward thoughts, a glimmer in his eyes. “You’ll be professional.”
“Yes, East. Of course, I will.” Shit, that was really short notice, but I guess I’ll just have to come up with something. Spontaneous havoc. Because that’s the thing about East’s warnings. They’re not really warnings. They’re more like a game we play. A game we both love, that we can play over several hours while we work side by side in the shop until the air becomes so heady, so electric, that we have to close early and rush upstairs. Like when he just told me to be professional. That was a dare if I ever heard one. The next move is mine. We both know it. He’s expecting it, but he has no idea what or when. That’s the fun part.
He gives me a final glare, his mouth a straight line through his face, before he crouches and starts picking up the boxes.
“Go back to work.” He’s going for a bossy boss man now and it goes straight to my needy, carrot-deprived hole.
“Yes, Master.” I shiver as I turn around, shuffling towards the back where I was restocking the shelves right before the non-incident with the boxes . I go back to working meticulously and efficiently, placing bags of cocoa powder on the shelves. As clumsy as I’ve been all my life, I’m not fidgety or antsy around East. Not anymore. His calm presence soothes me. His grumpiness settles me. He disappears into the back, probably to prepare for the wedding couple, and I go back to my Favourite Things list.
My master’s golden hair when it falls into his eyes and the absentminded movement of his hand when he sweeps it back and it falls into place. His strong grip around my waist when he lifts me and places me on the counter like I weigh next to nothing, and kisses me silly right before the first customers arrive. His tongue in my ear, on my neck, along my chin. His warm, wet mouth on my cock, the fullness of his lips when they wrap around me, engulfing me with heat and the promise of endless pleasure. His hum; a deep, low vibration that sends desire shooting up my spine. His tongue, broad and rough against my sensitive cockhead. Those are all my favourite things. Things I never thought existed in my world. Things that were always beyond my grasp like a forbidden land. Things that are reserved only for the lucky few. Like East’s smile when he sees me in the morning. The way his irises change colour. The teasing warmth in his voice when he calls me his funny little thing. I love it. I don’t mind at all. Being a thing . As long as I get to be his thing.
The bell above the door chimes, followed by a lofty sing-songy, “Yoohoo! Easter, Darling!” and a wave of colours, prints, and flowy garments breezing by. It’s like a unicorn floating on a rainbow wash through the shop, the heavy scent of gardenia invading the air all around me.
“Mum?” East appears from behind the counter, his hair deliciously disarrayed, and my fingers instantly tingle to brush through it. “What are you doing here?” He looks flustered, and a little annoyed, but mostly just filled by a subtle tenderness. I know all these small nuances about him by now. How the skin around his eyes and mouth softens when he’s happy and himself. “ Oh shit, I forgot, didn’t I?” Regret flashes across his face, his eyes oh so bright as he looks at the middle-aged woman who I assume is his mother, unless he calls all middle-aged women Mum .
Waving a gloved hand in front of her, she beams at him.
“Oh, never you mind, darling. Your father forgives you, assuming that, just like me, you’ve been busy.” When she reaches him, she wraps him in what I can only assume is a proper mum hug because I’ve never had one. I’ve never felt my mother’s arms around me, her body swallowing me right up, like East is swallowed up by a tangle of colourful garments right now. But that doesn’t stop the feeling of longing coursing through my body; every cell wishing and yearning for something it’s never had.
After a few seconds, East resurfaces, his eyes glassy as he smiles at his mother.
“I’m sorry I forgot,” he murmurs.
“Never apologise for having a life,” his mother shakes her head at him, golden-grey locks of hair imitating East’s hair, surrounding her kind face. Then she tilts her head, her right gloved hand reaching for his chin, as she takes him in. “Something’s different,” she muses, turning his face from side to side. “You’re… happy ?” She sounds surprised, then suddenly turns around, her blue gaze moving around the shop until it zeroes in on the shelf I’m hiding behind. I was peeking over the top, but I quickly duck the moment I hear the click-clack of her heels across the hardwood floor, coming in my direction.
“Mum,” East blurts, and I can tell that he’s slightly worried. His steps are hurried as he follows her. “It’s just—”
“Hello there!” Her bright face appears around the corner before she hurries towards me, her right hand stretched out in front of her. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you when I came in, but I only had eyes for my dashing son,” she smiles apologetically.
“I don’t blame you,” I blurt stupidly, my hand flying to my mouth when I realise my mistake. Mischief appears in her eyes as she tilts her head, throwing me a knowing look.
“Mum, this is Bun—Benjamin. My new shop assistant,” my poor master rushes out, his eyes wild and worried, yet wonderfully warm.
“Benjamin!” she exclaims, grabbing a hold of my hand and shaking it furiously with the strength and intent of a Canadian lumberjack. “What a beautiful name. So nice to meet you, dearest. I’m East’s mother, Dorothea Chrysanthemum Bennett. You probably haven’t heard a thing about me because my son is funny like that, but here I am, alive and well.” East’s concerned eyes search mine, but my master needn’t worry; I’m already spellbound and enamoured by his mother.
“Nice to meet you,” I whisper, returning her smile. “Benjamin B. Sable,” I add as I take her in. She’s breathtaking, just like her son. A powerful presence that immediately makes you feel seen—truly seen—and included.
“ Sable ,” she swoons, her gaze connecting with East’s. “Oh, darling, now I see why you’ve been so preoccupied.” Then she lowers her voice just a tad, a gentleness coating her next words. “He’s lovely. Just lovely, darling.” I suck in a breath, my legs nearly giving way beneath me, and I reach for the shelf to steady myself.
“Jesus, Mum,” East sighs. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that to strangers,” he groans, rubbing at his chin.
“Why not?” she laughs. “He is. Lovely, that is. Don’t you agree? Besides, Benjamin is not a stranger.” She turns her focus back to me, a tenderness in her eyes that steals the air from my lungs. “I must apologise that I haven’t got more time today, Benjamin, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. There’s a sale at the flower shop, you see, and I don’t want to miss it. Dutch tulips,” she sighs. “Mr Glass promised to put some purple ones away for me. But you must come visit me. Soon.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Don’t let my darling son keep you all to himself,” she tsks , fondness swimming in her eyes. “Sunday before Easter, darling,” she grabs East’s chin in her right hand, shaking his head teasingly. “You’ll come for lunch, and you’ll bring young Benjamin.” East groans, his shoulders tense, because if there’s one thing my master hates, it’s being told what to do. I can tell. “Say, ‘ Yes, Mum ,’” she smiles at him. “‘ Whatever you say, Mum .’”
“Yes, Mum,” he agrees, sighing deeply. “Whatever you say, Mum. I’ll be there.” She raises a brow at her son, and he corrects himself. “ We’ll be there.”
“Excellent!” She beams, then turns in a cloud of colours and gardenia, hurrying towards the door, disappearing just as quickly as she appeared, with a cheery ta-ta and a wave of her hand.
East visibly relaxes the moment the door closes behind her, the shop once again quiet.
“I like your mother,” I blurt, moving towards him, accidentally taking an entire shelf of cocoa powder with me and sending the bags flying to the floor. “Oopsie.” I wince.
“Everyone does,” East groans, then laughs at me. “She knows, you know?” He reaches for me, shaking his head.
“What?” I breathe, going willingly, oh so willingly, burying my face against his neck when I reach him, sniffing him compulsively. I can’t help it. I haven’t sniffed him in hours. I need my dose of East .
“That you’re special, Benjamin,” he swallows. “Because you are.”
“I am?” I say like the needy little bunny that I am.
“Of course you are.” He breathes me in, his face disappearing into my hair. “Special to me.” Special to me. Oh, what a joy to be special to someone as remarkable as my master. “Stay,” he murmurs. “Stay tonight. Don’t sneak out again. Please. I hate waking up to an empty bed.” And against all reason, I find myself nodding. Because I do want to stay. So badly. And how can I say no to him when he’s putting himself out there like this, all vulnerable and naked? “Yeah?” Relief courses through him as he squeezes me tighter against his chest. “You’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” I say, praying to anything that might exist that it’s not a mistake.