“What’s that?”
Her smile faded. “Listen, watch, and never let them see you watching them. Store every single bit of information that comes your way for future leverage. Also,alwaysassume someone else is watching and listening toyou.”
She lifted her phone and I realized she was taking a couple of pictures of something or someone behind me.
When I started to turn to look, she pulled me up short with a soft noise.
That got me rewarded with a smile. “Good boy,” she softly said.
I didn’t understand the mix of irritation and pleasure that rushed through me over those two words. Or maybe it was the tone in which she said them, I don’t know.
Looking back on it all, I can see the events clearly and in their context as they played out over the years. Some people might even say I was taken advantage of by her, at some point.
But if you think I regret a single damn thing, or even fault Casey for one second about what happened?
You’d be dead fucking wrong.
Chapter Six
Now
George and I spend longer in the shower than we should. I’m so deep in subspace it’s hard to keep track of time.
Then George does something that totally takes me by surprise—he shaves me. No, not everywhere, just my face, transforming my beard, which I’d let grow out this week, back into a neat mustache and goatee. He always enjoys washing me, and I won’t deny it feels like I’m being pampered when he does, but this is a new one.
Then again, much of what we’re doing right now is new to both of us, in many ways.
I stand very still, my cock dripping I’m so hard and aching, and watching him as he carefully focuses on what he’s doing. I usually use an electric razor, but he uses a regular one on me, shaving cream and all.
Once he’s finished, I rinse my face and run my hands over my bare cheeks and jawline, the outline of my goatee.
He’s done damn good.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He leans in for a kiss. “You’re welcome. I think I like this look better than the full beard.” His gaze lingers on me, and I’m loathe to break that eye contact.
I don’t know how to explain this. I’ve never felt like this before, even with Casey.
It’s like I’m plugged into his soul at a far more intimate level than I am with her. Don’t get me wrong—she makes me feel loved. But this is…
More.
Like I could indulge myself in the impossible fantasy that maybe, one day, he’d propose to me, whereas I know Casey will never marry me.
Again, that was the deal I agreed to from the start, and I’m fine with it. I’m an attorney, not a romantic. Being single is a lot less messy, anyway, for a myriad of reasons.
When we step out of the shower, after he dries me and then himself, he tells me to wait there. He leaves the bathroom and returns a moment later with the chastity device Casey is fond of using on me. It’s silicone and flexible, so while I won’t say it’s comfortable, it’s definitely more comfortable than some of the hard plastic or even metal ones she’s used on me in the past.
He has his keys with him. I don’t know when Casey slipped the key for the lock onto his keyring, and neither does he.
Just one more way in which she’s tricky as hell, in all the good ways.
She’s earned her position as chief of staff. Not the first or even thousand-and-first time I’ve seen her pull a metaphorical rabbit out of her hat. Her reputation as a litigator in Nashville is such that, when she assumed her role as George’s chief of staff, several law firms in and around the city sent her thank-you bouquets, because it meant they wouldn’t be going up against her in court anytime soon.
I received a few of those myself, although I’m not as blatantly ruthless as her and George. I’m simply sneakier. I like being underestimated. It means the opposition gets sloppy.
People used to underestimate Casey, years ago. One day, I hope to have as ruthless a rep as George and Casey.
