Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,43

do, anything sexual.” He locked gazes with Donovan. “Yet.”

Donovan’s eyes widened a fraction. “Good lord. All right, you have my attention.” He frowned. “Wait. This isn’t one of those diaper, pacifier situations, is it?”

Silver pressed his lips together. Not that he hadn’t considered age play if the boy he wanted to make his own needed it, but clearly, this wasn’t on Donovan’s wish list.

“No, it’s not. If you ever decide that’s what you need, then it can be. But that’s not my objective here. I want a boy, my own mijo, who I can take care of and who trusts me with their welfare, who aches for my direction.” He laced their fingers together. “Who understands and needs the power exchange I’m proposing.”

“All the time, then. Not just the bedroom?”

“I’d prefer that, but privately only. I don’t expect you to refer to me as Papi whenever we’re together, and not at all in public. This would be about us. I need to be upfront and say that my two closest friends know I’m a Papi, but I would never, ever, share anything personal about you or our relationship with them. That will be a big part of me showing you that I’m worthy of your trust.”

“Jesus.” Donovan went back to chewing on his lip. “Papi, huh?”

“You don’t want to refer to me that way?”

“Huh?” Donovan shook his head vehemently. “No, I want to—really want to. Just the idea makes me hot.” He gave Silver a sheepish smile. “The hints from you last night got me going.”

Silver smiled back at Donovan, his heart swelling from the excitement that what they were about to explore could be life-changing for them both.

“Then do you give me permission to be your Papi?”

Donovan grinned. “Hell yes.”

“Then don’t curse when you speak to your Papi.”

Silver winked then they both broke into laughter, all the tension seeming to drain from Donovan’s frame. Donovan’s features had brightened, and he gathered Silver’s other hand into both of his.

“I won’t, Papi.” Donovan’s grin got wider. “Now, what’s next?

Chapter Twelve

Donovan gazed around the expansive banquet room of the country club. The décor had always made Donovan feel as if he’d traveled back in time to a film set in the Victorian era, filled with crystal chandeliers, thick Persian carpets and flecked velvet, brocade wallpaper. All that was needed to complete the picture would be lords and ladies waltzing to a quartet. He half expected the visual to play out at any moment. How many charity and other functions had he attended there over the years?

Too many.

Not that he had anything against charities. It was the functions that annoyed the hell out of him. If the gatherings didn’t involve so many pompous idiots congratulating each other on how awesome they were for their enforced corporate responsibility, then maybe he could get behind them.

Donovan snatched another glass of champagne from a server’s tray as he strolled by. He’d had three already, but the buzz wasn’t doing the trick at all. He wasn’t nearly close enough to not caring yet and his ‘date’ still hadn’t arrived. While he didn’t hold out much hope that he could escape her promised attendance, maybe he could at least be spared his brother’s presence.

“Oh, look who’s here?”

Nope.

Donovan chugged his drink then set the empty flute on another server’s tray as he breezed by.

“Hello, Lawrence. I see hotel security isn’t doing their job the way they should.”

Lawrence pursed his lips. “I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere, but I fail to see the what’s so funny.”

“You should be viewing things from my angle.”

Donovan received a frown for his efforts. “Ha ha. Listen, Lance Sherman is supposed to be attending tonight, and father wanted me to make sure you don’t harass him about your lame designs.”

“Oh my God,” Donovan muttered under his breath. He frantically searched the immediate area for trays of filled flutes, but to no avail. He sighed then regarded Lawrence and his self-satisfied smirk. “Father did not tell you to say that. Quit pretending you’re clever.”

“Fuck you,” Lawrence hissed through his teeth then stomped away. He almost mowed over a server with a fresh tray of champagne, but Donovan came to the rescue just in time.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Donovan steadied the server at his elbow while simultaneously grabbing another drink.

“Oh, thank you, sir. That was close.” The young man gazed at him breathlessly.

Donovan held up his glass. “No, thank you.”

The server regarded him with a shy smile, and instead of taking the