Free Hard Choices by Ashe Barker Page B

you here, I didn’t want you to leave me again. So yes, my little Freya, in answer to your question, I do love you.”
    I gaze at him, my happiness bubbling and surely ready to overflow. I wonder what a pool of joy would look like, spilling onto Nick’s bedroom carpet. Bright gold and yellow and vivid pink probably, with sparkling lights and fizzy bubbles. Like a liquid Christmas tree. I’m lost for words to describe how I feel, so I settle for something ridiculously mundane.
    “And you did all that. You did take care of me. You’ve been brilliant. Did I thank you properly?”
    Again that sexy smile, the smile he keeps just for me now. “I think you may have. But do please feel free to thank me again, just in case.”
    All in good time. For now I content myself by walking across the room to him and laying my right palm briefly against his cheek.
    “You know I love you too. You accept that from me now?”
    “Christ, yes.” He takes my hand, the one not encased in plaster, and turns it to kiss my palm. “Freya, isn’t it time we were in bed and you got set to on this thanking you might have missed?”
    Soon. I’m still thinking about our house guest in the spare room. Nick is in his mid-thirties now, I guess, and if Callum’s already seventeen then Nick can’t have been much older when he fathered him. I wonder about the mysterious Astrid. Maybe she was just a kid too back then. And her Charlotte—at least I now understand why both Nick and Callum were so certain he was not her type. But I am, and it’s time he was reminded of that. We all have a lot of talking to do, and tomorrow will be soon enough for the next volley of questions. For now I need to remind him that while he may not have been Astrid’s type, he’s most definitely mine. I want my Dom.
    “You promised me a spanking. I hope fatherhood isn’t going to make you forgetful.”
    I smile at him, my hands stilling again, then on impulse I settle myself next to him and wrap my arms around him, nuzzling his chest with my nose. I flick his nipple with my tongue, and love the delightful little shiver that ripples under his skin. It’s slightly awkward, I’m not completely at ease with my plaster cast yet, but I manage. Nick tangles his fingers in my hair, turning my face up to his and kisses me, deepening the kiss quickly as my mouth opens under his. Long, tongue-tangling moments later he lifts his head.
    “You’re an insatiable little sub, but I think you’ll have to somehow manage to rein in your rampant sluttish tendencies with a child in the house.”
    My scornful expression tells him what I think of that notion. For good measure I start signing again, “Hardly a child. He’s seventeen. If you want, tomorrow we can always get a lock for the door. And I’m not a screamer.”
    He holds my gaze, his slate-grey eyes glinting. Then, his smile vivid and decidedly wicked, he relents, “That you definitely are not. Fair enough. Knickers off then and lay yourself across my lap. I think the spanking paddle this time, don’t you? You’ll find it in the drawer at the bottom of my wardrobe.”
    I do. Definitely. So I slip from the bed to go to fetch it.
     
    * * * *
     
    The following morning, my bottom still tingling deliciously from Nick’s careful attentions, I’m first to get up. I wander into the kitchen, decently covered from neck to toes in a bathrobe of Nick’s, and put some coffee on before making myself a cup of tea. Then I peer hopefully into the newly stocked cupboards looking for breakfast. A growing lad and a stern Dom with a mean right hand need good food. This is one area I do understand. I decide on pancakes, and start assembling the ingredients.
    I hear footsteps coming into the kitchen and glance over my shoulder. Callum is in the doorway, looking uncertain of his welcome. I raise my plastered hand in greeting then point to the coffee. He mumbles something, which I decide to assume is thanks, and goes over to the pot. Once there he