“Noted.”
“And I want you to be honest when you’re fucking with me, no matter the reason. No more secrets between us, Cassius. I have to be able to trust you.”
“Slightly more difficult, but with practice, I believe I can accommodate that request.”
He blinks, looking so adorably wholesome. Even with the facial disfigurement, he’s still the all-American, boy-next-door of my now very adult fantasies.
“And I want a dog,” he says, realizing he’s got me by the balls.
“A short-haired dog,” I argue.
Adam sits up taller and squares his shoulders. The set of his finely chiseled jaw is magnificent. “I want a goddamned Golden Retriever. It’s going to shed like a motherfucker. Dog haireverywhere.”
I shudder at the thought, but that’s what professional house cleaners are for.
“Anything else?” I ask, slightly afraid of the power he wields.
“I want the most expensive Rolex you can find and a tennis bracelet to wear to awards ceremonies. I want the name of the stylist who does Lucia’s hair, and—”
“Will you marry me?” I interrupt. God, how I adore this man.
“Marry you?” he asks, dumbstruck as always.
I take his hands in mine and kiss each of his perfect sun-kissed knuckles. Beautiful show hands that will never see a day of hard labor in their lives. “I love you, my Beautiful Adam, and I want to take care of you, not for 10 to 20 years, but for a lifetime. Separate, we are both somewhat deficient as human beings, but together, we are unstoppable. We are the gay power couple Hollywood never asked for but absolutely needs.”
“I… are you fucking serious right now?” he stammers.
I stand and draw him up to his full height, so that we are practically nose-to-nose. He is my match in every way. The perfect trophy wife for my fabulous L.A. lifestyle and my very own delectable whore.
“Don’t answer me just yet, darling. Allow me to persuade you.”
Chapter29
Adam
Look, our sex life was never the problem. So, when Cassius tells me to strip, put my hands against the wall, and spread ‘em, it’s practically a conditioned response for my body to obey.
“Beautiful Adam,” he murmurs, sliding his hands along my back, making me shiver, making me moan, making my dick get harder than a hot iron poker. “Become my husband and all your dreams will come true.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one.”
“And if I don’t?” I test, while my shoulders roll in a sensual shiver because he knows just where to touch me and how.
“Then I’ll have to lock you in my basement.”
“You don’t have a basement.”
“Ah, but I do. It’s where I keep my secret art collection and my tanning bed.”
I’ve always wondered how he maintains the perfect, yet subtle, year-round tan.
“You could have fucking mentioned the tanning bed before now,” I gripe.
“I liked watching you sunbathe.”
“And secret art collection? Like, kinky stuff?”
