That would beme.
And I’d do it again, too. In a heartbeat. Obviously if he said no, he was done, leave me alone, yes I’d honor that. I’m not a monster.
Not like that, anyway.
Once it was obvious to me Leo wasn’t going to get off his ass and reclaim the boy I realized if I wanted Jordan back I would have to be the one to fetch him from Tallahassee and beg him to return to Washington.
Releasing my hold on his cock I ease back, making sure he doesn’t fall over before I step away. “Finish cooking our dinner, boy,” I tell him.
“Yes, Sir.”
Once I’m certain he’s steady, I walk over to the refrigerator and retrieve a bottle of Moscato wine we keep in there for me. I don’t drink a lot of wine but sometimes I want a chilled glass with dinner.
Like tonight.
I find the wine glasses and don’t ask Jordan if he wants one. He can handle a shot or two of liquor but for some reason wine knocks him on his ass and I want him completely sober tonight. After pouring myself a glass I return the bottle to the fridge and glance back at Jordan.
His sweats are still tented and he looks absolutely adorable.
I walk over and dip my finger into the glass before sliding the digit between his lips.
Which is a mistake because the hungry look he gives me has me wanting to bend him over the kitchen counter to fuck him right now.
Patience, POTUS.
Doesn’t help that he gazes straight into my eyes while he swirls his tongue around my finger and sucks the wine from it like it’s my cock.
Fuck, the boy can suck a cock.
Somehow, I manage to pull my finger from his mouth and I note the sexy, playful smile he wears. Sipping my wine, I lean against the counter again to watch him.
I could set the table, I suppose.
But he wants to be boy tonight. He wants me to be a little bit of a loving bastard to him before the tender snuggling later. Helps me vent a little aggravation, too.
If it wasn’t a chilly February day and just a hair on the cool side up here in the residence I’d strip Jordan of everything except his leather collar and have him finish cooking our dinner totally naked. Except I don’t want to have to go through the aggravation of resetting the thermostat for the residence, which involves making a phone call. It’s already set to my comfort level, a little on the cool side at night to make it easier to sleep.
Jordan jokes that he never gets cold in bed because sleeping with me is like having his own personal furnace to cuddle against.
It doesn’t take him long to finish cooking dinner. After depositing my cufflinks in the bedroom so I don’t lose them I take my usual seat at the table in our private dining room next to the kitchen to await being served.
Jordan hurries out with my plate of food, a glass of water, and silverware. Before he can return to the kitchen to get his own I reach up and snag the D-ring on the front of his collar with my finger and pull him in for a long, tender kiss.
“Thank you, baby.”
I’m rewarded with a brilliant smile. “You’re welcome, Mister President.”
I send him back to the kitchen with a playful swat on his ass and settle in. He returns a moment later, seated next to me in his usual place but then he looks at me instead of immediately tucking into his food.
I know what he wants.
Instead, I pick up my wineglass and slowly take a sip, drawing it out for him because I know he enjoys this charade as much as I do.
Once I set my wineglass down, I pick up my fork and take a bite. As usual, he’s seasoned it perfectly. I suspect he might have snuck up here earlier and started it so it had time to marinate and develop the rich flavor profile that makes his cooking superior to anything our staff normally produces for me even if they use the same recipe.
“Delicious, boy.” I note his pleased smile as I flick my left hand in the same gesture he and Leo both use to indicate I’m allowed to eat. This is a game but we both know it.
We both love it, too.
