He used to be the same way with Ellen.
I’m not usually around to be a recipient of the sleepy octopus’ attentions, although it is fricking adorable the few times I’ve been here and he tried it with me.
Sometimes I let him, because itisadorable. Because George has suffered enough pain and grief not to let him have fun on occasion. And sometimes it’s fun for me, too, because Declan and I don’t have that kind of morning routine between us. The boy’s too well-trained to argue with me when I order him to get the fuck out of bed in the morning.
I’mnotsubmissive. I’m not looking for a Top, or a Dom, or a fucking Daddy.
Definitelynot the last one.
Although some might argue that, with Declan being seventeen years younger than George, and fifteen years younger than me, there could be a little of that kind of vibe between them.
I haven’t seen that. Outside of work, I’ve witnessed Sadist and slut, and Master and boy.
At the office, Alpha Declan has no problem stepping into control and taking over, kicking ass and helping run our state. I trust him to keep George in line at work when dealing with work issues.
Right now, I lightly doze but don’t totally fall asleep. It took me a couple of years to be able to sleep soundly with Declan sharing a bed with me. Even now, although I trust George in many ways, it’s deeply engrained triggers that tell me it’s not safe to sleep because there’s someone else in bed with me besides Declan.
Even with trusted Declan guarding my back.
I used to sleep damned good with Ellen. Even after she and George were together, there were times she’d let me nap on the couch with my head in her lap, like we used to, because I was so fucking exhausted. I know she felt guilty about that, too.
Eventually, I adapted.
So I totally understood what a dangerous state George was in when I finally realized how bad his insomnia was after his return. Although in George’s case, it was due to PTSD from the disaster, and the resulting nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes he’d relive what happened, hear the noises.
Mine resulted from years of repetitive trauma.
Not long after daybreak, I feel Declan awaken again. He stretches a little behind me, his arm curling around my waist once more.
That’s when George awakens.
It’s like watching a large mastiff. First a few noises, softharrumphsand sighs, like he can’t believe he’s being forcibly dragged toward being conscious. Followed by stretching, and then more sighs.
Then those blue eyes open and focus on me.
Damn, the man has gorgeous eyes. Hell, he’s gorgeous, period.
He tentatively reaches out, the way he always does like this, and brushes his fingers against my hand. The man apparently has two modes outside of work and father—adorable, and sadistic.
This is the first.
I curl my fingers around his. “Morning,” I say.
Behind me, I feel Declan’s erection pressing against my ass.
I also suppress a snicker because he knows better than to grind that boner against me without permission, and he’s not allowed to ask me for that, either.
Over the years, I’ve enjoyed the hell out of the creative ways in which he tries to express himself without breaking that rule.
Yes, I’m a sadist to the boy, just in different ways than George.
“You have a horny boy, George,” I drawl.
I won’t deny I’m wet over the soft whimper I feel brush the nape of my neck.
I let George gently draw my hand up to his lips. He kisses my fingers. “Wehave a horny boy,” he softly says.
In the early days of this new world order, George was determined he was going to take Declan from me. Just bullshit posturing on his part.
