Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
He was in his element. He’d be the last to volunteer to clean out a garbage disposal or assemble a couch, but he was first in line to pick out said couch and then paint his heart on the walls. His vision was to fill vintage frames with pictures from our rebuild and cover the walls in the kitchen with them. He’d caught several amazing glimpses already, like Colt and River mid-laugh while they tore out the old cabinets, or a sweaty Shay with black paint on his cheeks, chugging from a water bottle, or one of my favorites—a photo of Greer helping Corey reach the ceiling with the white paint roller. Why use a ladder when you could just sit on your Owner’s shoulders, right?
We’d finish with the painting today. The second floor had been the easiest, no doubt. Black walls, black ceilings. With one or two exceptions, I believed. Tate and Ivy were designating new numbers on the playrooms, so I didn’t know which one had become pristine white, but I was guessing the new doctor’s exam room, because the old one had been black.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I just had to tell him.
Tate glanced back at me, cheeks flushed with exertion. “Oh, stop it. No, don’t. Say more cute things.”
I laughed and leaned against the doorway. “I love you.”
He smiled and puckered his lips at me. “I love you more, Master.”
Impossible.
More people showed up in the afternoon as they got off work, and that included a surprise visit from a new franchise. Our most recent members, led by a Daddy Dom named August King, who was some celebrity chef Tate was mildly obsessed with, said he wanted to make sure we ate properly.
“Oh my God, Macklin is gonna be so fucking jealous when I brag about this later.” With that said, Tate rushed off the front porch and hurried toward the food truck. “I’ll get you something, Sir!”
“Dominus!” Corey shouted into the house. Legit shouted. “The man with the perfect hot chicken is here!” Then he ran off too.
I chuckled and took a drag from my smoke.
River stayed with me, also smoking a cigarette, while Reese and Lucas talked to August King.
Having two Augusts in our community was going to be confusing. It wasn’t like having two Peters or fourteen Mikes.
Shay and Cam emerged from the house next, followed by KC and Lucian. Then Colt and Kit.
Shay glanced at River and sucked his teeth. “This whole quitting smoking thing fucking blows.”
“Yeah, but you’re a good boy for Daddy.” River smirked faintly and took a drag.
“And you’re a Sadist, Owner.” Shay sniffed and stalked off the porch.
It would be our turn soon enough. Both River and I had made promises to quit.
“Camden!” Noa yelled out on the lawn. “Where’s Camden?”
August looked over at him. “He’ll be here soon with another surprise, kiddo. I’m sure you can figure out what it is.”
Judging by how Noa lit up like a Christmas tree, he definitely knew. “Oh my gosh, it’s done already, Sir?”
“Have mercy on us.” Lucian spoke under his breath.
I was missing something. “What’s happening?”
Lucian sighed and smiled wryly. “KC, August, and I reluctantly sponsored a brat project of theirs. It’s a wonderful initiative, but it’s going to drive every Sadist and Dom crazy.”
That seemed about right for all their brat projects.
Soon enough, the food truck had an impressive line of customers that put August’s two employees to work. Joining him and Reese, I learned that the food truck franchise was launching this weekend at several DC locations, and Anthony, the third in their triad, was coming down from New York tomorrow to join them.
Reese smirked. “We still have room if you wanna join our monthly event on Saturday.”
That made August chuckle. “Oh boy, I heard about it through Noa. Almost scared the bejesus out of my Camden. Hopefully another time.”
“Oh my God,” I heard Tate moan. He was on his way over here with two baskets of food. “Mr. King, I should warn you that your staff refused to accept payment. Now, I don’t know how you run things in the South, but giving away stuff for free is generally a bad business move.”
I grinned.
August did too. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I felt my eyebrows lift at the sight of the food, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. Hot damn. Tate had gotten us hot chicken on what looked like the softest rolls ever, crispy-looking pickle inside, burnt ends, and then a few sides. Mac and cheese, roasted green beans swimming in butter—
“I’m in heaven!” Corey cried out.
—mashed potatoes, garlic bread, and corn.
“Christ. Talk about a feast.” I put out my smoke in the pot on the porch steps, then made sure August knew I appreciated his joining our community, before I ushered Tate back onto the porch where we could sit down.