Pretty Boy

by K. M. Neuhold

  His eyebrows unscrunch, and he laughs. “I should hope not; you’d have a house overrun with strays just like me.”

  “You’re not a stray,” I insist, cupping his chin. “I meet most of my boys on kink apps or at the BDSM club just outside of town. I’m trying to take things slow with you so I don’t fuck this up,” I confess. “I’d love to have you in my room, in my bed, but I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. Less than forty-eight hours ago I told him I wanted to be his Daddy and promised I’d take care of everything, and I’m already letting him down.

  “You said that all of this was about trust and communication, right?” he asks.

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, and I’m trustin’ you, so you should trust me too. If it’s too much or too fast, I’ll tell you.”

  Relief rushes through me. I don’t think I was giving him enough credit. He might be new to having a Daddy, but I think he already understands the dynamic better than some people who’ve been in the lifestyle for ages. The trust goes both ways.

  “In that case, come see our bedroom,” I correct, dropping my voice lower and delighting in the pink that creeps into his cheeks.

  For the next half hour, I show him around the entire house, including how to run the jets for the jacuzzi in our bathroom and where the outdoor lights are in case he wants to use the pool. I’m about to show him down the last wing of the house where my office and library are, but I notice him starting to look tired, so I decide to leave those for later.

  “Head back up to our room and take a shower. I’ll go out to the car and bring our things in. I’ll leave you to settle in a bit, but feel free to make yourself at home.”

  Sterling

  I feel like a horse in the kitchen. That’s what my gran always used to say about stuff that didn’t belong where it’d been put. I certainly don’t belong in Barrett’s fancy house with so many bathrooms I can’t figure a use for all of ‘em.

  The wood floor creaks under my stocking feet as I make my way down the hall, holding my breath like I’m about to be caught somewhere I shouldn’t be. He didn’t say I had to stay in my room or anything. In fact, he said to make myself at home. That means he shouldn’t mind me exploring a bit, right? I nibble on my bottom lip, listening for any signs of him. My hair is still damp from my shower, and when I got out, I saw my bags sitting at the foot of his bed, looking just as out of place as I feel.

  As I near the end of the one hall he didn’t show me earlier, I find a room with a door that’s slightly ajar. The rustling sound of paper comes through the crack, and I press myself closer to try to see what’s inside. The smell of books is unmistakable, along with the rich scent of leather. Through the small gap in the door, I’m able to see a bookshelf that extends from the floor all the way up to the high ceiling. I’ve never seen so many books in my life. I lean in a little closer to get a better look, and the door squeaks as it inches open.

  I jump back and nearly trip over my own feet, catching myself on the doorframe before I can fall on my ass. The warm sound of Barrett’s laughter makes my skin heat from head to toe, and I look up to find him seated inside the room, in full view now that the door is wide open, grinning at me with amusement.

  “I’d scratch ninja off your list of possible careers,” he suggests.

  “Yeah,” I agree with an awkward laugh. Taking a step into the room, I realize it’s not one bookcase filled with books, it’s an entire room of them. There must be hundreds of books, maybe thousands. Has Barrett read all of these? That thought is almost more intimidating than all the money he’s got.

  “Come on in and have a seat. I was just reading.” He waves me in, and I take a tentative step.

  “I’ve never seen this many books all in one place.” I can hardly decide where to look as I make my way over to one of the large, leather chairs to sit down.

  “What about a library?”

  I shake my head. “Ain’t never been to one. Mrs. McCullom used to let me borrow some books from her sometimes, but I ran out of ones I could read pretty quick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  My face heats as I realize what I just said. “Oh nothin’, I just meant books I liked.” I continue to look longingly at the full shelves. He seems to have every type anyone could imagine, books I always wanted to read, and so many I ain’t never heard of but instantly want to devour. I could spend a lifetime locked in this room just reading or trying to anyway.

  “What kinds of books do you like?” Barrett asks, setting down the one he was holding to give me his full attention.

  My face warms up again, and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I shrug awkwardly in that position and turn my face away from his so he can’t see me as much.

  “All kinds.”

  “Sterling,” he says my name in that heavy, commanding way that makes the pit of my stomach flutter and my skin tingle. It makes me want to listen to whatever he’s about to say next. I reluctantly turn my face, resting my chin on my knee and holding myself tighter. “Tell me.”

  “I can read,” I say, sounding more defensive than I mean to. Barrett makes a rumbly sorta noise in his throat, his eyes fixed on me like a snake fixing to snare a mouse, and waits for me to keep talking. “I just don’t read real good. We didn’t have a lot of books around, and when I struggled to pick it up, my teacher Ms. Wright, told me to practice at home more. Thing is, I couldn’t really, so I just never got too good at it.”

  None of the other kids seemed to have much trouble. And now Barrett knows I’m stupid, just like everyone back in Billow always knew.

  “You like books though?” he asks, and I nod eagerly. “Okay, then we can work on it if you want. In the meantime, why don’t you come over here.” He pats his thigh, and my eyes widen. Does he mean…?

  When I don’t move right away, he stands up and strides over to me, scooping me up without warning and startling an embarrassing squeak from me. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he settles back into his chair, this time with me right on his lap. He picks up the book he was reading, flips to the first page, and starts to read out loud.

  His voice is like a fire, warm and comforting, inviting me to sink into him. So I do. I relax against his large body, resting my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes so I can focus on his words. Barrett uses one arm to hold me close, making me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before.

  Chapter‌ ‌10‌

  Barrett

  Sunday brunch became a tradition Kiernan, Lorna, Alden, and I started in University. Back then, it was always a hangover brunch at the cheap pancake house a few blocks from the dorms, but now we rotate who hosts each week. When one of us is out of town, we rearrange the rotation and give that person shit for missing it.

  Since Sterling discovered my library last night, I’ve hardly been able to get him out of there. I read to him last night until my voice was hoarse, and then I carried him to bed and fell asleep cuddling him. This morning, I told him I needed to spend an hour or so in the kitchen, and he declared he would spend the time in the library until everyone arrived.

  I check the French toast bake that’s in the oven and stir the eggs on the stovetop, eagerly watching the clock for my friends to arrive. I can’t remember a time I’ve been this excited to introduce them to one of my boys. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this excited about a boy, period.

  Just before eleven-thirty, the doorbell rings, and I hurry to let them in. Lorna steps inside and pulls me into a hug immediately. She’s always been affectionate and a bit over the top in all things. She looks like she’s dressed for fashion week in Paris instead of a casual brunch at home, but I’ve stopped being surprised by these things. Her dark hair matches mine, but she got our mother’s blue eyes rather than the brown I got from our father. She kisses my cheek and then steps past me, heading straight for the kitchen, no doubt to mix the mimo
sas and Bloody Marys.

  Kiernan steps in next, his auburn hair neatly combed back, completely at odds with his scraggly beard. He looks every bit of his Irish heritage with his pale skin and copious freckles, his green eyes always full of humor. He teasingly kisses my cheek too, and I give his shoulder a shove, not that it moves him much. The man is built like a damn brick wall.

  Alden is last, giving me a half-smile that is basically his equivalent of throwing his arms around me and telling me he missed me while I was out of town. He’s much shorter than Kiernan and I both are, right around the same height as Sterling. But he’s every bit a Daddy Dom just like the two of us. He loves finding boys who are larger than he is and earning their submission. Aside from the three of us all being uncomfortable with the money we were born into, our preferences have been our biggest bonding point as adults.

  The three of us follow Lorna to the kitchen. I decide to tell them about Sterling before going to get him. That way I can prepare them first and avoid any awkwardness.

  Everyone helps themselves to glasses from my cupboards and pours drinks.

  “So, how was bumfuck nowhere?” Alden asks, giving me the perfect opening.

  “Billow,” I correct with a stern glare. “And, it was great. I actually, uh, well, remember the guy I mentioned?” I ask, glancing at my sister. I have no doubt the two of them filled Alden in on the situation. In fact, they’ve probably all been speculating and gossiping about it all week.

  “The one you had a date with,” she guesses.

  “That’s the one. His name is Sterling, and he’s…” I’m not sure I can even find the right word to describe him without the three of them thinking I’ve lost it. Yes, I’ve always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, but this is over the top even for me.

  “Aw, you’re smitten,” Kiernan teases. “Are you going to go visit him again? Please tell me you’ll suck it up and fly next time. I can’t fathom why anyone would want to be stuck in a car for nearly twenty hours.”

  “Actually…” I pause and clear my throat. “I brought him home with me.”

  I expect a bit of ribbing. What I don’t expect is all three of them to go silent all at once and stare at me with quite so much shock.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Lorna sets her glass down, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows going up simultaneously.

  “Sterling,” I say again. “I brought him home with me. He’s in the library as we speak.”

  “Uh.” Kiernan shares a look with Alden, neither of them appearing particularly impressed with my decision making, which causes me to bristle. “Okay, well…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he takes a large gulp of his Bloody Mary.

  Alden, never one to beat around the bush, levels me with his patented no bullshit look. It’s enough to freeze the balls right off of a polar bear. “Barrett, darling, what in the absolute fuck are you thinking?”

  I clench my jaw. This isn’t going as expected. I didn’t think they’d jump for joy or anything, they haven’t even met my boy after all, but I did think they’d keep the judgmental glares to more of a minimum.

  “What Alden is trying to say is that we’re surprised you didn’t practice more caution. You don’t even know this person. He could be after your money,” Lorna explains, her gentler tone doing nothing to soften the sharpness of the words. It doesn’t take a genius to know what they’re all thinking right now—poor Barrett, scammed by another gold-digging boy. It’s happened too many times before. I’m a romantic, too easy to take advantage of at times. But, fuck, I would rather gamble my money on love than become some coldhearted miser.

  “He’s not after my money,” I argue through clenched teeth. The oven chooses that moment to beep, so I turn around and pull out the food and then spin back to face my friends. “None of you know what you’re talking about. You haven’t even met Sterling yet, and you’re making judgments about him.”

  “Can you blame us?” Kiernan asks. “You went away for a few days and came home with some random dude you picked up in a Podunk, backwoods town in Texas. It’s not exactly the first time…”

  “The first time for what?” I snap, even though I know exactly what he means. If he’s going to be a sanctimonious ass, he can at least say the words rather than alluding to them.

  “The first time a boy has been after your money,” Alden finishes for him.

  I scoff. “As if the two of you don’t spoil your boys just as much as I do.”

  “Yes, but we’re more careful,” Kiernan points out. “Remember, what was his name? Jackie? Jordan? The one who used your AmEx to buy himself a Porsche and three Rolexes?”

  “I remember.” It’s not exactly the kind of thing a person can forget. “Sterling isn’t like that.”

  “Of course, it sounds harsh, but you really can’t rule out the boy being a gold digger,” Alden adds. “You can hardly even blame him. A handsome man like you walks into his town, flashing your black card and I’m sure you looked like the perfect ticket out of there.”

  “It’s not like that,” I insist again, becoming more than a little frustrated with my friends. Even if part of me understands their concern, I know Sterling isn’t like that. I know it in my gut.

  “Bare, it’s okay, it happens to the best of us,” Lorna insists. “You remember my near marriage to that pretty little thing from Puerto Rico. Give him a thousand bucks and a bus ticket back to the boonies and move on with your life.”

  My blood is rushing so loudly in my ears, I almost don’t hear the little sniffle from the hallway, followed by the shuffling of footsteps.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter. “All three of you, get the fuck out.”

  I tune out their protests as I dart out of the kitchen to catch Sterling. I find him in the bedroom, stuffing his things back into the tattered paper bags he clearly pulled out of the trash in the bathroom, where I put them after he unpacked.

  “I was so stupid to think for a second I could belong here,” he says around another sniffle. “I don’t need any money, but a bus ticket would be greatly appreciated. Or I can call Miss Maggie and see if she can wire me the money for it.”

  “Sterling, stop,” I say in my most commanding tone, but he doesn’t so much as pause.

  “I’m used to folks disliking me once we’ve met, but this was a new one for me. They didn’t even need to see me to know I could never be good enough for you.” He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob and then hiccups. My heart crumbles, my anger at my friends being pushed to the back of my mind so I can focus on the problem right in front of me. I stride across the room and scoop my boy up into my arms to stop him from packing.

  He struggles and makes another sad little sound that tears me apart.

  “Sterling,” I say his name again.

  “Stop it,” he insists, trying to break my grasp on him. “Stop.” He pushes on my arms as I carry him over to the chair in the corner of the room so I can sit down with him and talk. “Longhorn,” he gasps, and I stop dead in my tracks, that damn helpless feeling crashing into me all over again.

  Loosening my hold, I set him on his feet. He stumbles a little, almost as if he’s surprised I actually let him go.

  “I know you’re not here because of my money,” I say when he doesn’t immediately run back to continue packing.

  “I’m not,” he insists, pulling himself up and meeting my eyes. “Your friends are right; this was crazy. You picked up some random trash and brought it home with you.”

  “You’re not trash,” I growl.

  “I am,” he says. “And I don’t belong here.”

  I make another frustrated noise, clenching and unclenching my hands to keep from reaching for him again. As much as I want to drag him back into my arms and keep him there until I’m sure he knows that he’s the furthest thing from trash, he safeworded, and I’ll always respect that.

  “I sent them away,” I tell him. “They’re wrong, and I told them to get the fuck out.”

  “They’re your frie
nds,” he points out weakly, wrapping his arms around himself and rounding his shoulders.

  “And my sister,” I add, just so he knows that I’m not taking this lightly. “They’ll come around eventually, and when they do, they’ll realize that my bringing you here wasn’t a passing whim. It’s not about you at all. I’ve made some…let’s say questionable choices about partners in the past. They’re just trying to look out for me in their own stuck up way.”

  “If this ain’t a passin’ whim, then what is it?” he asks, sounding so insecure it makes my heart ache.

  “I don’t know, little rabbit,” I admit, slowly reaching for him, giving him a chance to tell me to stop again. When he doesn’t, I brush the tips of my fingers delicately over his cheek. “All I know right now is that it feels right, like I was meant to walk into that bar and I was meant to bring you here.”

  He scoffs. “If there’s such thing as fate, she ain’t been too good to me so far.”

  “Maybe she’s seen the error of her ways,” I tease, and his lips twitch in an almost smile.

  “This don’t make no sense, Barrett,” he says, still sounding sad. “None of it makes sense. Of all the men in the world, why would you pick me?”

  “You don’t see yourself clearly, Pretty Boy.” I tilt his face up and press a soft kiss to his lips. “But that’s okay; I’ll keep doing it for the both of us until you’re able to do it for yourself.”

  He shakes his head but doesn’t argue anymore, sinking into me and burying his face against the center of my chest.

  “If you still want me, I’ll stay,” he says after a few seconds, his words muffled, but still music to my ears.

  “I absolutely want you,” I assure him.