“No idea,” I said truthfully. My palm was still wet from our combined cum, and I touched Ross’s nipple with it, spreading our loads over his skin before I leaned down to suck and lick it off again. He groaned.
“Thank you, Mister.”
“For what?” I whispered, giving his tit one last kiss before I fell back on the mattress again. Stickiness made me wince, but it wasn’t anything a shower couldn’t fix.
“For… everything.” He laughed and the melodic sound had me opening my eyes to look at him. “What would the media say about this? Ross Midberry, houseboy to his hooker.”
“I think you’ve earned the househusband title.” I pinched his nipple and he hissed. “But who the hell cares? It’s none of their business. You fuck me, I fuck you, and we’re happy in our homelife. Maybe you’re right—they don’t need to know shit.”
“Or maybe they do.” He tilted his head toward me, his eyes glowing. “But I should do it on my own terms. My own YouTube video.”
I raised my eyebrows and grinned. “I like that idea, Pookie.”
His laughter grew louder, and he turned on his side, snuggling up close. “I knew you would. You always liked the dramatics.”
I gasped and slapped a hand over my chest. “I do not.” Tapping him on the nose, I chuckled. “You’re the one who enjoys a good public fuck.”
“I do, don’t I?” He curled his arm around my waist, and I stared at the exceptionally pale—almost nonexistent—freckles on his cheeks and nose. They were so light that the only way to see them was to be this close to him. “What would the cards say if we fucked in a semipublic place again?”
Snorting, I shook my head. “Ross, they don’t work that way.” My grin turned wicked. “ButIlike the idea very much. Preferably not somewhere with a camera.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Want to fuck me this time?”
“Oh, Pookie, it would be my pleasure.”
Epilogue
Ross
One Month Later
Eli smirked at me,which made his strong jaw stand out, as he held up his favorite GoPro camera and steadied it on me. He had on a flawless lilac suit that somehow managed to both stand out and augment his broad shoulders and narrow waist with its classic cut. I was both jealous of himandhappy as hell that no one had protested my choice of classic black. Since I was going to be filming with Eli regularly now, though, I’d gone with a tie to match him, and that pop of color suited me just fine.
“Now, just relax.” Eli waggled his eyebrows at me and panned out to the decadently decorated hallway behind us. I could never get over the beauty of the Courtesan Hotel. Arched windows soared toward the vaulted ceiling and were bracketed on either side with rich gold curtains that glimmered as if they were made of real metal, and as the cloth fluttered, it caught the light in such a way that it was impossible to think they’d feel like anything except a cloud against my fingers. I reached for the closest one. Eli slapped my hand. “You can’t afford to fuck up that silk.” We both glanced outside, and a full silver moon rode high in the sky, giving the entire night a surreal vibe. “You need to get used to being filmed if you’re going to be on my show with me more often.” He raised his camera again.
“Yeah, well, I’ll try. I’m not really comfortable with the lens in my face. Being on this side of the filming equals stress in my mind.”
“I would’ve thought you’d be comfortable, after all the times you had to be in front of reporters?” Eli glanced at me in a meaningful way that let me know if I said something profound, he might edit this into whatever interview I ended up sharing with the world at a later date.
My face heated and I rolled my eyes and grinned. “I’m not used to being honest when I’m being filmed. That’s not the life a politician leads. This interview is something different. We’re supposed to be thinking of a way for me to talk about the shitstorm that erupted and had me leaving office in the big NG. I don’t know. My feathers are ruffled.” I was rambling, so I snapped my mouth shut.
“Funny, you don’t look like a chicken,” he said with a teasing lilt in his tone. “That’s a dapper suit for a fowl.”
“I’m not. I’m a man with a purpose. A man with a Mister.” I shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah.”
Eli chuckled and pointed over my shoulder. I spun on my heel and watched Lane, who had become so much more than some Dom I played sex games with, walk along the hallway toward me. His suit was black, the same as mine, but the cut did amazing things and drew my eye directly to his waist and groin. I held back a moan. “This party is a bit much for one video release, isn’t it, Eli? I know it’s the first time I was on your show, and you got over ten million views on the video, but it can’tmeanthat much,” I grumbled as Lane came to a stop near me. “Not enough to fill an entire ballroom full of people and alcohol.”
Eli grasped my hand. “Anything is a good enough reason to celebrate in my business. This means I don’t have to go back to working in a restaurant unless I want to. That’s power in this world, the ability to be creative and live life, and you helped me with that. Are you going to talk to that reporter tonight?” He turned off his camera and let it fall to his side.
Lane reached me and bussed a kiss to my cheek that gave me chills. “Eli, take your hand off my househusband.”
He snorted but did as Lane said, and damned if it didn’t do good things to my insides to have Lane act so possessive of me.
I leaned against my Mister when he laced his fingers with mine. “The blogger, reporter, whatever Neven Alexson is, hasn’t shown up. He texted me a while ago to say he’d be late, but now he’s really, really late, so I’m not looking for him to turn up.”
“You know,” Eli began, and then let out a thinking hum as he opened the spectacular golden door to the ballroom, which only barely managed to outdo the curtains in the hallway. Sound blasted out to greet us in the form of laughter and a string quartet set up in the corner directly to our left. The room was mind-boggling all on its own, constructed at the turn of the last century by men with more money than morals. The stained-glass ceiling was surrounded by painted moldings that Darcy had been only too happy to go into depth about when I’d come in earlier to help get the last things for the party squared away. Apparently they’d been done by some famous dead French person whose name wouldn’t stick in my head.
Being Eli’s PA had taken some interesting turns. I was finding out I enjoyed tackling fun details like arranging names on the circular tables dotted throughout the expansive room—especially when it meant I could put people together, who I knew kind of hated each other through Eli’s stories he liked to tell. I might be a slightly better person for the time spent living with my Mister, but I was still no saint.
