5
Jameson checked his look, nodding. The suit was well-pressed, his shoes shiny enough they glowed. Isaiah had a great staff. He liked them a lot, which was good, since he would have to live with them, he supposed.
Tonight he finally got to do what Isaiah had asked him there to do. He got to meet the fam. They were having a “do”.
Isaiah was nervous. Was hiding in his rooms stressing his outfit, his jewelry, his hair.
Jameson was tempted to storm over there and blister Isaiah’s ass before their first guests arrived. That would keep his love squirming all night. Off guard.
He would watch how it went tonight to know how to handle the next get together. Jameson fully intended to be the one to plan such things, to let people know who Isaiah desired to have about and who he would see when politics demanded it.
His lover craved his solitude, his hours in his books, his hours soaking in the tub.
Jameson would happily be a buffer between Isaiah and the world.
Especially when that meant his access to Isaiah was unimpeded. He loved that. He hoped Isaiah would come to love it too, if he didn’t already.
He felt the gentle, barely there touch to his mind.Yes, love? Did you need me?
Isaiah never wanted to bother him, but they had a bond for a reason.
Are you dressed? Go show me in the mirror?
Oh, now he had to pass muster? He grinned. That was okay. He knew he looked good. He went to show Isaiah what he was wearing.
He looked handsome, sexual, dark and sensual. Like a predator.
I approve.Isaiah sounded admiring.
Can I see you?
No.
Why not?That would never do. Jameson headed for the private wing.
I’ll be out later.Stubborn boy.
No, you’ll let me see you now.Spanking was so on the menu. Someone was letting his nerves overwhelm him.
I’m the boss here!Oh, someone was scared.
Isaiah was the boss, but Jameson was the boss’s consort. He could make the rules in private.
The huge door to Isaiah’s quarters was shut, closed to anyone, any outsiders. He was far from that now, and it yielded to him, as did Diego once he saw who was coming through the door.
“Good evening, sir. The first guests will arrive in half an hour. I will knock in an hour.”
“Thank you, buddy.” He gave Diego a thumbs up.
Diego winked at him. “I think he looks best in the dark gray turtleneck.”
“Ah. Still not dressed.” Now he knew why he hadn’t been allowed to see.
“He’s on outfit eight. The closet looks like a hurricane hit it.”
“I’ll help.” He winked before straightening up to stride in to rescue his boy.
A pair of pants went flying across the room, narrowly missing him.