Chapter 21
My alarm wakes me from my sleep, where I was dreaming about…
Damnit, why am I still in a cocoon? I shimmy to get loose, but I can’t move.
All my wiggling does is make my entrapment tighter, and is that something sticking in my…
My eyes shoot open. I’ve let a man sleep in my bed again.
His dick twitches, and I’m preparing to quite literally kick this motherfucker out of my bed, but instead of grinding it against me, he adjusts so that it won’t poke me anymore.
My good fucking boy.
For the first time in my life, I’m not mortified at the thought of waking up with someone.
It’s actually…nice. A glance at the clock tells me I have another fifteen minutes before I need to get up for the morning, so I hit my snooze and melt into Thatcher’s warm body.
Heaven knows that after everything I put him through last night, he deserves this.
Closing my eyes, I replay everything that transpired between us last night.
The way he obeyed, how blissful he was when I finally allowed his release, and even how vulnerable he was during his drop.
For his first time, he did outstanding. It’s not an uncommon occurrence to see a man under as much pressure as he is to enjoy being dominated, but this was different.
I’ve been in the lifestyle long enough to tell the difference between someone who likes to play here and there and someone who needs it.
He’s the latter. After we talked through his experience a bit during our bath, I became more convinced than ever that Thatcher Prescott was born to be a submissive—even if he doesn’t realize it yet.
My blaring alarm pulls me from my recollection, and I pry myself from the warm arms that surround me.
I wouldn’t normally allow someone to touch me like this, but when Thatcher fell asleep during our approved cuddle time, I didn’t want to move him.
My little sunshine lets out a whimper, and I can’t fight the smile on my face as I place a pillow in his arms. I almost wish it were me, still cocooned in bed, feeling that glorious cock already ready for another round.
I guess we’re having a cold shower today since I have to go out and run a fucking Bratva, and I’m currently jealous of a goddamn pillow. Jesus, fuck.
Luckily, my cold shower does the trick, and I’m back to myself.
As always, I run through my schedule in my head while I wait for my morning tea to arrive.
My days here have been pretty mundane. All I’ve had time for is a never-ending stream of meetings and “team building” activities, as Misha calls them.
The idea that my day could conclude with stress relief that involves more than liquor and a warm bath is sublime.
My moment of joy dissolves as Thatcher flings the door open, ruining my peace. “Good morning! How was your shower? I brought your tea as instructed but thought you might want to eat breakfast in your room this morning since you slept in a bit—”
“Please tell me you didn’t make me breakfast again.” I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but I’m not eating his subpar, low-calorie shit when we employ a world-class chef who monitors my macros.
He laughs as he sets the tray on the side table. “No, don’t worry, I learned my lesson the first time. This is from the kitchen. I just asked the chef to plate your breakfast. I even requested extras in case you want seconds.”
Oh, thank God.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
I prepare my meal, doctoring my morning tea and cutting up the meat and potatoes on the plate. I don’t know what I expected Thatcher to do. Perhaps leave, or at least eat his breakfast with me, but when I glance up, he’s sitting across from me staring.
“What are you doing?”
He fiddles with his thumbs, an annoying nervous tic we will have to work out soon if we are to continue our arrangement.
“I don’t actually know what to do. On top of this dynamic being different from anything I’ve ever experienced, I, um, don’t typically wake up next to the same woman more than once. ”
I snort a laugh, rolling my eyes. “Alright, playboy, calm down.”
“Well, do you?”
“Do I wake up next to someone? Never. I tend to prefer sleeping alone.”
“Yeah, you said as much when you kicked me out the other night.” He sighs. “So why did you tell me I could stay last night?”
I take a moment to think as I chew. Why did I let him stay? I don’t even normally have my playthings in the same house with me, much less let them sleep in my bed. My liaisons are typically at a club or hotel, with strict time parameters.
“You were a very good boy for me last night, and good boys get rewarded. Don’t get used to it, though. Like I said, I prefer to sleep alone.”
I warn myself, just as much as him. Because as nice as it was to wake up in someone’s arms, feeling, dare I say, cherished, I don’t need to get used to it either.
Sex is transactional, nothing more. Developing feelings for my sub is strictly off the table.
Allowing myself to care for someone, or even love them, is only a weakness. One I can not afford.
“That’s fine with me. Last night was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like it, so I’ll be here for you in any capacity you’ll have me.”
“That’s good to hear. I enjoyed it as well, and since we both had fun, I think it’s worthwhile to explore more together.
Actually, now is a great time to discuss anything you didn’t like last night.
A huge part of this dynamic is communication and trust. Before and after every scene, I’ll always check in to make sure we’re on the same page.
If there’s ever anything you’re uncomfortable with, make sure to let me know.
It’s a completely separate conversation from anything we discuss during aftercare, so that neither of us is still affected by the scene. ”
Thatcher’s gaze darkens at the mention of last night. “No, Ma’am. There wasn’t anything I didn’t like about last night. In fact, I look forward to exploring more.”
“Very good—” Misha’s signature knock on my door interrupts me. “Come in.”
“Morning, moya tsaritsa.” He nods a greeting to Thatcher, then winks at me. “Good night as well then, I see.”
“What do you want?” I hiss, but he doesn’t answer.
Getting the memo that he’s not welcome for this discussion, Thatcher stands and straightens his shirt. “I’ll, um…I’ll just see myself out.”
I don’t miss the loaded look between the two men, and I know they’ll be talking about our night later. Oh well. Misha knows about my proclivities just as I know about his, so the more advice he gives my boy toys, the better off I am.
The door is barely shut before Misha flops down where Thatcher was just sitting. “How was your night?”
“I believe you had something you needed to tell me?”
“Oh yes. Mr. Zadorov wanted to inform you that his son will be joining him later this month. Apparently, the boy is looking forward to, and I quote, ‘finally laying eyes on his future missus.’”
I gag at the thought of doing anything with that asshole’s son. “Never going to happen. I should kill them both just for the image in my mind. What else did you need?”
“That was it.” He leans back, kicking his feet up on the table. “But I think you have lots to tell me.”
“I should’ve known you just wanted to gossip. It was…great actually. He exceeded my expectations on all fronts and—”
“And you let him sleep with you? How many times does that make recently?”
“You’re an asshole. Yes, he slept with me. So what? Sue me.”
“I’m just messing with you, and you know it. I think it’s good for you to have someone—”
The insinuation that Thatcher is my someone puts me on the defensive, and I sit up, giving Misha a glare that would bring lesser men to tears. “I do not have someone. It was a very long night, and he was a very good boy. That is all—”
He ignores me, like always, never intimidated by anything I do or say.
“As I was saying…I think it’s good for you to have someone right now.
You’ve been stressed to the max with this transition, with no time off or outlet for your frustrations.
Trust me, I know exactly how you’re feeling.
I hate the sentimental shit as much as you, but if I had a hot little toy living with me right now, I would be a much happier man. ”
“I guess you’re right,” I sigh, relaxing back into my chair.
“The timeline works out. He’ll be starting his season around the time your schedule frees up enough for you to get to a club.
I think it’s good for both of you.” He pauses and takes my hand.
“Plus, he’s Teddy’s best friend, so he’s already a target for our enemies.
Your connection with him isn’t putting him in any more danger than he would be in already. ”
I didn’t even realize my subconscious was so concerned about Thatcher’s safety, but he’s right.
That’s one of the reasons I never have 24/7 arrangements in the first place.
The more time someone spends with me, the more of a target they become.
If anyone is putting Thatcher at risk, it’s Teddy, not me.
So why not take advantage of the perfect boy sleeping in the room next to mine?
There’s a built-in deadline for the relationship, and Misha’s right, I could use the stress relief.
“Okay, moya sila. You have a point. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Misha grins. “Of course I do. One day, you’ll learn that I’m always right. So how was he?”
Flashes of our night play through my head. I could spend half the day talking about it, but I don’t have the time. Good thing Misha knows exactly what I mean when I say…
“He was a very good boy.”