Since it was mid—day, the Miami sun was high and hot. Thankfully, the balcony was equipped with fans that circulated cool air. The hot tub would be exactly what Baker needed to help him relax after our playtime. I couldn’t call it a scene anymore—that sounded too fake. What we would do at the club two nights away would be a scene…maybe. Hell, I wasn’t even certain I could allow another person to see Baker naked. Somehow, my warped mind had determined he belonged to me…only me.
I ordered us some Chinese to have delivered and grabbed a couple bottles of water for each of us. I’d worry about my new-found streak of possessiveness later. Right now, I needed to keep my focus on ensuring Baker received proper aftercare. We had the rest of the evening to relax. Well, Baker could relax. I intended to glean every single detail about his life that he would share. No, I shouldn’t want to know more, but knowing it was dangerous to my wellbeing did absolutely nothing to stop me.
As soon as I stepped out on the balcony, he said, “Please tell me you ordered Chinese. I love Chinese—any and everything. I’m not picky.” His head was relaxed against the back of the tub and he turned in my direction. “I think I earned it.”
I snorted. “I think you earned a punishment for nearly choking yourself to death and not dropping your bell like you were supposed to.” I handed him a water and climbed onto one of the lounge chairs. There was no point in getting wet when I would have to answer the door to get our delivery sometime in the next thirty minutes.
I wasn’t looking in his direction but could feel him staring at me.
“Nope,” he countered, making an exaggerated popping sound at the end of the word. “I was forgiven that slip-up when I tasted your cum. Remember?”
Water spewed out of my mouth. I couldn’t believe he’d said it. Here. Outside of the playroom—outside the throes of passion. I turned to look at him. He was smiling, looking rather smug with himself, as a matter of fact. He was gorgeous.
“I doubt I’ll ever forget it,” I answered truthfully.
“Me either.”
With that admission, he looked away and silence broadened the distance between us. What was he thinking? Regrets? More curiosity? Repulsion? Fear that someone might find out? There were so many possibilities, I didn’t have a clue which direction his mind traveled.
After a few uncomfortable minutes, he said, “What’s your favorite color?”Before I’d met Baker, it had been green. “Blue,” I answered. The color of his eyes was my new favorite crayon color. “Yours?”
“Gold.”
Gold? Not what I expected. At all.
“Favorite sport?” I asked, keeping the question game moving.
“College football,” he answered quickly. “Not pros—those guys are only in it for the money. I’m all about the college football. Roll Tide.” He grinned and asked, “Your favorite sport? And, for the purposes of this game only, we’ll assume that ass spanking is not a sport. Agreed?”
“Ha—ha,” I mocked. “Professional football. Looks like we might have a problem, Sweet Tart.”
“First of all, there’s no problem, college football is on Saturday and the pros play on Sunday—no television argument to be had. Secondly, why in the hell have you settled on Sweet Tart? Yes, I hated Boy, but Sweet Tart? Really?”
“Don’t dis my nicknaming ability. You’re a little sweet and a lot tart. When I think back to that first day we met, when you acted so sweet and submissive, I can’t believe I fell for that act. You’re nothing but pure sass.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. You seem to bring the sass out of me. My Mistress never provoked those tart responses.”
I thought him bringing up his Mistress would make me jealous, but the way he said it left me feeling like I’d given him something she never had. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself dislike Mistress Samantha. Baker didn’t know, but we’d spoken on several occasions—beginning with that first introduction phone conversation to her following up on his progress and welfare since we’d arrived in Miami. Her questions and actions didn’t lead me to believe she felt anything more for him than a normal affection a Domme felt for their sub. Baker was one of many that she serviced. There was certainly no jealousy on her end, unless she hid it incredibly well.
“Don’t dare try blaming me for your sass,” I retorted. “Favorite book?”
“The Mortal Instruments series, of course,” he answered. “I bet you’re into science fiction.”
“What in the hell is a mortal instrument?” I asked. Good Lord, I knew there was a small age gap between us, but I’d never heard of the book series he referred to.
“Best books ever. Spill it, Seth. What’s your favorite?”
“Harry Potter.”
His head popped up. “Bullshit!” He shook his head. “Oh, man. You’re in so much trouble. My characters are totally going to kick your character’s asses!”