Page 73 of Their Little Helper

“But your favorite band was in town.” Interrupting was rude but I’d heard the same story once a month from him, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. “And you just had to go.”

Larry beamed at me, forgetting he’d been pretending to be stoic and full of bullshit just seconds before. “I knew you’d get it, man. You’re mean but fair. I knew you’d?—”

“Fire your ass.” Santos wouldn’t put up with anyone being sick on a weekly basis or coming down with the flu three times in one month, so I didn’t have to either. “I’m done.”

Short sentences.

Badass men don’t explain themselves.

I wasn’t a nice Dom or a Daddy.

I was an asshole Dom from a romance novel that no one should actually date in real life.

“Fuck.” Deflating, Larry pouted.

He was nowhere near a Dom from a romance novel.

“My mom is going to kill me.”

He wasn’t even the villain in a romance novel but he knew how to piss off everyone around him.

Including me because I was going to have to cover his shift.

“Fuck.”

Yep. Larry was right about that.

What he was wrong about was how long I’d put up with his flaky behavior and terrible lies.

Even with all the extra paperwork firing him generated, I didn’t feel bad about it because he was the worst liar I’d ever seen. Even Daddy would’ve made up more believable stories and Papa said his imagination was questionable.

Part of me wondered if I’d made the right call halfway into my extra-long shift when I was bouncing between doing Larry’s job at the bar and fitting in the paperwork I was supposed to have been doing. It made what should’ve been an easy shift on a quiet night last until late and I was running on empty after tossing out a regular who’d gotten too mouthy with damned near everyone.

“Fucker!”

No. Not in any sense of the word…not yet anyway.

Unfortunately for my embarrassment levels, I remembered everything little me had asked Daddy and Papa about bottoming and it seemed like I’d get to figure that part of sex out as soon as I managed to ask for it.

Which might be never or just until the next time little me got overconfident.

He was entirely too curious for my own sanity sometimes, but they’d done a good job of answering my questions without making me feel silly.

Well, I’d felt silly once I’d started thinking about it, but that was on me, not them.

They’d been great and had treated it as normally as they could’ve. But looking back, I was pretty sure Santos had been worried about how to answer my questions. Little me hadn’t noticed but big me realized he hadn’t been as relaxed as he’d tried to pretend.

I could recognize how cute it was when I wasn’t embarrassed about the whole thing.

He’d even gotten me and Daddy pajamas with matching blankets.

I wasn’t sure how much money he’d spent getting them so fast but I remembered Daddy saying he wasn’t going to worry about Papa spending money on silly things. He couldn’t seem to decide if he was frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a sippy cup or not, though.

Papa just rolled his eyes and said to be careful what he complained about.

Little me hadn’t understood the threat and big me was still slightly confused, but it’d made Daddy stop complaining.

“Last call.” Barking out the words in a low tone and giving the bar a smack got sighs and pouts from the last stragglers who were thankfully behaving themselves, but it had little me rolling around in my head asking if we were done yet.

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