Just Sign Here - Cara Dee Page 0,19

servers would have their eyes on us the whole time.

It made me wish for privacy.

There were a select few couples Peyton was watching more than the others. Gay couples.

“You’re thinking hard on something,” I noted.

Peyton flushed and took a sip of his wine. Curious reaction. “Sorry. It’s very beautiful here.”

He didn’t want to share. Fair enough.

“I wanted to discuss our contract,” I revealed. “Rather, a different contract.”

“Oh? I thought we already…”

I nodded. We had finalized the details for his employment with the company as well as his private employment with me for watching Julia.

“This one would between you and me,” I said. “A set of…requests, if you will. Rules.”

“Rules,” he stated quietly.

I tucked my napkin under the table and smiled faintly. “I think you can guess I have some unconventional interests.”

I didn’t think he could get sexier, but the candlelight did it. The shadows enhanced the pink flush of his cheeks in the most exquisite way, and his green eyes took on a fiery glint.

“I want your signature on the contract,” I told him, “but it would be symbolic. You can back out anytime you want.”

He licked his lips nervously. “Can I see it?”

“Of course.” I pushed down my own nerves and reached into the inner pocket of my suit. It was something I’d worked on during our flight up here. “It’s pretty straightforward and short.”

“Nothing about you is straightforward and short,” he muttered, accepting the piece of paper.

I grinned into my wineglass. This, I had to see. Him, reading my wishes, and then, hearing his response.

I’d listed five items. Five things I wanted to do, or I wanted him to do, and that was all. I wouldn’t push him beyond that. Instead, I was hoping he’d come to me. I was hoping he’d be so desperate that he couldn’t help himself anymore. Because I wouldn’t budge an inch.

“You—you wanna dress me?” He looked up from the paper, eyes wide.

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard and read from the draft. “You wanna dress me every morning, you want me to kneel at your feet once a day if privacy can be guaranteed, you want—wait. You wanna put sunscreen on me?”

“When we’re in the Caribbean.” I nodded slightly.

I needed my hands on him.

“I, uh…” He coughed and squirmed in his seat. “You also want me to sit across from you whenever we fly private.” Which we would be doing when we went to the Caribbean. If it weren’t for the new environmental policy Westwater went public with last year, we’d fly private more frequently. “And you don’t want me to ask why you want all this.”

“In fact, not a single word of it,” I emphasized. Because words were a valve. Valves released pressure. I didn’t want anything released until it was my cock buried balls deep in his ass. “You either agree, or you don’t. Completely your choice. If you say yes, you will take a journey with me. If you say no, anything else still stands. This doesn’t affect your employment with me whatsoever.”

It was a journey I believed he was curious about.

Whether or not he was brave enough to take the leap was up to him.

Our food arrived, and I wasn’t expecting a response right this minute anyway. Peyton was, to put it mildly, flustered. He folded the draft of the contract with trembling fingers, and I took it—just in case. We didn’t need a breeze to blow it off the table and have someone else catch it and see what it said.

“Wait—what’re you… I mean… I haven’t said no.”

I smothered the explosion of joy and satisfaction, and I pocketed the contract again. “Let me know when you agree, then.”

He took a piece of garlic bread from the basket but didn’t eat it. He seemed more intent on breaking it into tiny little pieces and feeding them to his paella.

“Unconventional,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’ll say.”

I smiled around a forkful of paella—fantastic paella, I might add—and enjoyed witnessing his discomfort. He wanted it. I was certain. Come to me, little boy. What a world of pleasure I wanted to show him. I’d never stood a chance against his allure.

“Fuck it.” He threw the last of his shredded bread onto his plate and reached for his napkin. “I agree to it. I say yes. What do I need to do?”

I chewed slowly, allowing the desire to settle like a blanket over me. The feeling of power followed, and I relished it. After taking a sip of my wine, I pulled out the