Epilogue
E
One Year Later…
Mac being out of the closet means we can go on dates, and he has spent the past year wining and dining me. Now it’s my turn. As much as my sperm donor calling Mac my sugar Daddy had rankled, it wasn’t far from the truth.
So, my man likes to take care of me and I like to let him. Sue me. Who doesn’t want a person to anticipate their every need and assure they don’t have to worry about a thing? I know it’s what I want, and that’s what’s important.
Plus, I don’t actually need Mac to pay for anything. I’m richer than him now.
Di didn’t just write a convincing goodbye letter for Thomas Miller, she also tracked down his will and made sure I got everything.
I thought she’d done some clever edits, but it turns out my dad wasn’t just a disgusting human, he was also a little lazy.
His will still left it all to me because he never got around to changing the documents after cutting me off.
The six houses and more than a dozen buildings around the world, the legitimate and illegitimate businesses, even his stupid golf clubs. And I want none of it.
Selling the properties has been a mixed bag of easy to unload and too niche to move fast, but a year later they're finally gone with Di’s help. I bought a new place in Cuba and kept the staff loyal to me, but otherwise I want to wash my hands of everything my father touched.
The biggest thing Di and Mac have helped me with, is shutting down the human trafficking ring. Mac admitted having me by his side when he kills people turns him on, and I’ve been accompanying him around the world as we round up the last associates.
A big chunk of my inheritance went to lawyers who put it in a trust, as well as taxes. Di helped me set up a foundation to help the victims of trafficking, so the charitable aspect kept the amount lost low.
With the rest, I plan to continue helping Mac with his hobby, as he calls it.
Part of why I’m taking him out, in Paris no less, is to celebrate a couple victories.
First, we killed the last known smuggler my father employed in Europe.
Secondly, we flew here on the environmentally-friendly Bombardier Challenger 3500 plane I bought us.
Now we can employ two pilots and a flight attendant full-time, with strict NDA’s, so anytime Di finds a lead, we can go at the drop of a hat. And we’ve been to every continent except Antarctica in the past year, never having to worry about the cost.
After all, I’m a billionaire on my own right now.
Mac still films four days a week, thirty weeks a year, but we always find some excuse to film elsewhere, connecting it to crime so he can do the show around our side hustle.
So, usually, he makes the plans and I’m along for the ride. This time, I want to show him the fanciest food I always wanted to try. See what he likes so I can recreate it all at home.
My being in charge of our plans is probably why he locked my cock up on the plane and I’m currently straining against the hard resin frame. It includes a tight ring around my balls, keeping me on edge, but unable to get fully erect.
Instead of waxing poetic about the Michelin-star food, I’m squirming and sweating under my shirt collar. Tugging at the material, my fingers brush over the titanium that marks me as Mac’s.
“What is this course, pet?” Mac asks as if he doesn’t know what the waiter said in French.
“This is the small bites, with snail and wild garlic closest to you,” I translate unnecessarily. Everyone knows what escargot is, right? He understands that I’m silently begging the meal to move faster and is prolonging my torture. “There’s also caviar on pork, a potato with paprika, and oysters.”
Mac nods and “How many courses to go?”
“Six,” I practically whimper, squirming again. When I made the reservation for the tasting menu, I couldn’t have known how long it would feel when I was dying to get back to the private residence we are staying at.
“You’re such a good boy for me,” Mac coos, feeding me an oyster. I swallow and moan at the subtle and surprising addition of hazelnuts. “I like feeding you.”
“I like you feeding me, Sir,” I bite my lip as my cock swells at what I want him to feed me later. “Can we move on to the rest, please?”
“So eager,” Mac teases, but he feeds me some potato next, the paprika bursting over my tongue.
We move on to the next course, my lust ratcheting until I’m panting. By the time they bring us abalone with lentils and sardines with capers, I have the urge to dive in the ocean… To cool down and maybe source my own seafood.
As the third course comes out, lobster two ways, Mac leans into my space and squeezes my thigh. “How is that ring fitting right now?”
Even though I know he’s referring to the one strangling my straining cock and balls, I hold up my hands. “Not wearing any rings.” Apparently being teased with food and delayed gratification makes me feisty. “You gonna change that?”
Mac only chuckles and leans back before feeding me again. It’s all too much, and I’m ready to beg for relief in the fancy bathroom by the time they take the plates away from the final savory course and the palette cleanser of lime sorbet.
Another waiter appears and sets the single plate between us. “Pour le dessert, nous avons trois petits fours. Bon appétit!”
“Finally,” I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing I’ve already paid the bill and we can leave after this.
Instead of feeding me, though, Mac stands up and drops to one knee beside our table. My mouth drops open as he pulls a black box from his coat pocket, and I wonder how I didn’t notice it there. I have been distracted by the cage.
“Emanuel, Ethan, E, pet,” Mac starts, and I’m glad we’re in the kind of restaurant where tables have space between them for a more intimate experience.
There will undoubtedly be pictures, but at least no one can easily hear a celebrity call his partner ‘pet’.
“You’re my partner by any name, but I’m hoping you want to take mine. ”
“I do,” I answer and then laugh at my word choice. It’s wetter than I expect, and Mac reaches a hand out to wipe a tear away from my eye.
“You know you’re it for me,” he continues, opening the box to reveal a thick black ring with inlaid gold along the edges. “The only person I want to spend my life with. The person I trust with all of my secrets.”
“Besides Di,” I point out, covering my mouth when I realize I’ve interrupted his proposal. Thankfully, it only makes him smile.
“The only person I trust to watch out for her, too,” Mac adds. “I don’t need a piece of paper to keep you for life, but I do want to make sure the world knows you’re mine. Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
“Yes,” I squeak out, my voice tight. I don’t need a paper either, and I know Mac doesn’t care about my wealth, but I can’t wait to make him mine right back. “Yes, I will.”
Mac takes the ring from the box and slips it on my finger before leaning in to kiss me hard, his facial hair scraping my face in a deliciously promising way. Everything disappears around us until he pulls back to give me one of his sweet smiles that only I get to see.
Holding my hand up as cheers of congratulations call out from the other patrons, I see a light flicker on the inner ring, and I realize Mac is giving me a smart device.
A custom, luxury piece of jewelry, but a smart ring all the same.
He’ll still be able to track me, but I can take this off whenever I want.
We’ve had to remove my collar at times for clothing where I had my neck exposed, especially in summer, and we both hated it.
Now, I can always have a way for him to find me, as well as to visibly claim me, and it will be my choice when I take it off.
He’s trusting me with more than his name.
If you told me a couple years ago that I’d fall in love with a psychopathic serial killer, that he’d kidnap me and I’d go along with it, I would have laughed in your face and told you to go back to your dark romance novels. Sure, I love crime podcasts, but I’m not stupid.
Turns out there is one murderer I can’t live without. And we have the rest of our lives to talk about the criminals we want to remove from this world.
Shoving a petit four in my mouth, I swallow and then point to the other two, “Eat those or leave them here, but you need to take me home. Right now.”
“Is that so?” Mac says, sitting again and picking one up to take a bite. He raises a brow over his glasses and I’m squirming again.
Lifting the last bit of our meal, I watch him eat it before whispering the words he wants to hear. “Take your fiancé to the nearest bed and do whatever you want with him, Sir.”
Mac grins and it’s almost sinister. I know I’m about to be fucked within an inch of my life, and I can’t wait.
The end…