My absence at his side on the campaign trail is easily explained—duh, my wife had a near-death experience. I try to miss as few events as possible, sometimes sending Dray with him, or having Dray and Gregory stay with Susa so she’s not alone, if I go with Owen.
That, Iknow, is driving her crazy—that we willnotleave her alone unless she’s in a bathroom or safe in her office. At first it was me and her parents, then her parents, after I resumed working full-time at the office.
Once she finally convinced her parents to stop coming over every day, I personally paid from my own pockets for off-duty FHP officers from her security detail to come in and stay with her when Dray couldn’t work from our townhouse, drive her to doctor appointments when I couldn’t be there, and never leave her alone.
Shehaaaatesthat.
Yet she’s tolerating it, because when I told her I was doing it and she argued with me, Owen broke down sobbing andbeggedher to give in and let me do it.
Thankfully, my pet is even more of a softy about our boy than I am, in some ways.
Yes, I rewarded him well for that later, even though it wasn’t planned, on his part.
She only took two weeks off from work, and even then she was working remotely from the townhouse. For the first few weeks, she would only come in to the office during the mornings and work from home in the afternoons because she was just too exhausted to stay longer.
Finally, we strip and go to bed, Susa cuddled between us. There aren’t many nights where Owen can spend the entire night with us now, but this is one of them and I’ll savor it.
Before her ordeal, Susa and I would always put him in the middle on these rare nights, so he felt both of us.
Now, Owen wants her in the middle, protected by us both, even though nothing will threaten our wife tonight.
I don’t argue, and neither does Susa. I know she wouldn’t ask to be in the middle for herself, though, even if she wants to be there.
When my alarm goes off far too early the next morning, I fumble for my phone on the nightstand, managing to locate it on the third try. “Motherfucker.”
Owen laughs in the darkness on Susa’s far side. “God, I miss that.”
“Miss what?” I ask.
“Your morning grumpiness.” I hear the sheets rustle and Susa mutters something unintelligible, then Owen’s hand finds my hip in the darkness and gently squeezes.
My cock throbs.Ooooh, yes.My boy and I will definitely be showering together this morning, without a doubt. We usually get more time together than he does with Susa, because I normally head to the mansion early every morning for our workout, either on machines there, or a jog around the neighborhood surrounding the mansion while tailed by the security detail.
Then I always take my shower there, with Owen, not that the public knows that part.
As his chief of staff I can get away with stuff like that, and no one’s batting an eye about it. They assume I’m dedicated to my job.
Since the very beginning, when Owen officially became my submissive, our post-workout shower routine has been an integral part of our day. I pin him to the wall and he asks me for an orgasm.
And then I give him one.
He’s not allowed to masturbate without permission, even this many years later.
He’s our good boy and obeys us.
Because he loves us, and he trusts us, and he knows we’ll always take care of him. All he has to do is ask.
I switch on the lamp and give Owen’s hand a squeeze before I sit up. When I look, Susa’s pulled the sheet over her head and rolled to face Owen. She’s still mumbling, and Owen’s wearing an adorable smile as he stares at the Susa-shaped lump under the covers.
I pull the sheet down and lean in to kiss her tummy. “Good morning, Petey.” Then I kiss her. “Good morning, pet.”
And my boy. This morning he grabs my head andkissesme. Fortunately, we’ll have a shower and time before the walk-and-talk downstairs with Markos for our lips to not be swollen any longer.
The last chance we’ll have to reallykisslike this—versus a quick kiss that’s a mere brush of lips over lips—until tonight. And then after tonight, our opportunities will be limited mostly to weekend nights at the townhouse, when we can make it look logical that Owen would stop by.
I savor my boy’skisses, these sweet moments outside of time, the feel of his fingers pressing against the back of my head, the rasp of morning stubble against each other’s cheeks.
Kissing.
