Brats in Training 3: Dangerous Dusty (6 page)

He was a Dom after all. He should have more control than this. Alexander led. He did not follow. He didn’t whimper like an untried teenager at anyone’s feet. But damn if Dusty wasn’t making him unravel.

And Alexander didn’t like feeling out of control. Everything had order. Everything had its place. And stringent rules were made to be followed. Dusty was supposed to be the one coming unraveled, not him.

Dusty was the submissive.

Not Alexander.

“I’ll eat just about anything, sir.”

Alexander could only hope.

“Very well,” he said. He pressed his lips together to keep from groaning when he glanced at Dusty’s pretty cock once more before forcing himself to walk away. Alexander placed the call to the restaurant and then pulled the files from his briefcase. He laid them out on his desk in his study and opened his laptop and got to work.

Dusty filled his mind as he tapped away at the keys. Alexander imagined all the things he was going to do to Dusty, and all the dips and sinewy lines he would explore. He rolled his head, releasing some of the tension as he continued to work on the reports.

“Sir?”

Alexander turned and nearly swallowed his tongue. Dusty was wearing the shortest pair of boy shorts he had ever laid eyes on. The man stood there with his cock and balls outlined so well that Alexander could see every curve. He had to clear his throat before he answered. “Yes?”

“Dinner is here.”

Alexander could feel his anger rising. He spun in his chair, his eyes zeroing in on the small navy-blue shorts. “You answered the door in those?” He nodded toward the scrap of cloth barely covering Dusty’s bits and pieces.

A smile formed on Dusty’s lips and then he glanced down at his underwear—if the tiny piece of material could even be called that.

“Heck, no,” Dusty snorted with laughter. “I had a towel around my waist, sir.”

As if that was a better option. Alexander stood, yanking in his emotions and slamming a lid on them as he crossed the room. “Let’s eat.”

When Dusty turned to leave, Alexander did swallow his tongue. Dusty’s ass cheeks were hanging out of the back of the tight little blue undies, the flared mounds rising nicely. Alexander’s hands itched to reach out and swat a cheek, or both.

His eyes stayed glued on Dusty’s ass until he reached the kitchen. The man was dangerous all right, but that word took on a whole new meaning as Dusty took a seat at the small two-seater table.

“I’ve never had food from this restaurant before,” Dusty said as he started pulling covers off various dishes. “Is it good?”

“Yes, Antonio’s serves excellent food. I used to order most of my meals from De Monique’s, but they lost their chef last month along with most of the waitstaff. Since Phillip moved to Antonio’s, so did I.”

“You eat all of your meals from takeout restaurants?”

Alexander glanced up from his plate, nodding. “I work a lot of hours, Dusty. I don’t have much time for cooking and such.”

Dusty frowned. “Who takes care of you, then?”

“Stephen comes twice a week and cleans the place. He sends my suits out to the dry cleaners once a week and picks up any groceries I might need. Other than that, what do I need?”

“No, that’s all wrong. If you’re going to work so hard, you need someone to take care of you.” Dusty’s eyebrows drew together as his frown deepened… and then suddenly smoothed out as the man began to smile. “That’s why you hired me, isn’t it? I’m going to take care of you.”

“I hired you to be my personal assistant.”

“I know, but you said you would need me twenty-four hours a day, and to be honest, at first I didn’t understand why.” Alexander got an uneasy feeling when Dusty’s smile grew. “Now, I know why.”

“Dusty.”

“Not to worry, sir, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. You hired me to be your personal assistant twenty-four hours a day. I’ll make sure all of your needs are taken care of so that you don’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Alexander groaned. He had the insane urge to palm his face. Dusty had no idea what he was saying. He really didn’t. Alexander wanted so many things from Dusty, and not a damn one of them had to do with his fucking dry cleaning.

“Eat your dinner, Dusty. We’ll discuss your duties later.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alexander blinked in total shock when Dusty practically vibrated in his seat. “How much sugar have you had to eat today, Dusty?” Because there damn well had to be an answer to the man’s bounciness.

“Not much, I swear. I had an orange juice and a bowl of cereal for breakfast, but it was Cheerios and I don’t think they have very much sugar in them. I had a ham sandwich with cheddar cheese for lunch and an apple. I could have had chips, but they get stuck in my teeth, especially tortilla chips.”

Alexander slowly lowered his fork and gaped at Dusty as the man just kept going on and on. He was watching for Dusty to breathe, because it sure hadn’t happened yet.

“Oh, and I had an espresso before delivering that package to your office.”

“You had coffee?” Alexander’s voice was so high he felt like it got strangled in his throat.

“Oh yeah, I usually have three of four a day. It helps keep me going.”

“No more coffee, Dusty.” And there would be no debate about that. Coffee and Dusty were not a combination Alexander wanted to see. Ever. “If you need something hot to drink, you may have herbal tea, the decaffeinated kind.”

“No more coffee?”

Good lord, were those tears welling up in Dusty’s eyes? Alexander sighed and set his fork down. At this rate, he was never going to get his dinner eaten. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together.

“No elbows on the table.”

Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t put your elbows on the table while you’re eating. It’s rude.”

“Rude, right.” Alexander lowered his arms to his lap. “Look, Dusty, about the coffee. If you’re good, you may have one cup on the weekends. But only one. If you can handle that without getting hurt, then we’ll discuss having more.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alexander nodded to Dusty’s half-eaten plate of food. “Are you about done there, Dusty?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t eat much so—” Dusty’s face suddenly blanched as he glanced from his plate to Alexander’s and back again. ”“Sir, are you going to take my meals out of my pay because—”

“Relax, Dusty, all of your meals and upkeep are included in the job. Call them a perk.”

“Does that include Symon?”

“What about him?” Alexander growled. He suddenly had visions of Symon and Dusty getting it on in the back of the limo, and he wanted to tear the walls down and kick his feet like a two-year-old denied his favorite toy.

“Do I get him as a perk as well?”

“You most certainly do not!”

Dusty sighed deeply and shrugged. “That’s okay, sir. It was just an idea. I can still ride my bike to get to work.”

Alexander needed a drink.

Chapter 7

Dusty tried not to be nervous as he followed Alexander into the living room, but he couldn’t keep himself from twisting his hands together. Alexander was upset with him, and Dusty knew it. He could feel it. He could see it in the stiff posture of Alexander’s back as the man went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.

Dusty just didn’t know what he had done wrong.

Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten so much. If Alexander was paying for his meals and upkeep
and
giving him a salary, the man was being more than generous. Dusty would have to remember not to take advantage. Maybe he could buy a small dorm fridge and put it in his room and start buying his own food when his first paycheck arrived. Then Alexander wouldn’t have to feed him so much.

And what about Dizzy and Larry? How was he going to pay for their food before his first check came? He couldn’t ask Alexander to pay for his pets. That would just be too—Dusty screamed as he tripped over the rug and went crashing down to the floor, smacking his nose on the hard tile.

Fuck, that hurt
.

Oh, that was going to leave a mark.

Dusty crawled to his knees and checked his nose to make sure it wasn’t bleeding.

“Are you okay?” Alexander asked as he knelt by Dusty. “Let me see.”

Dusty lifted his head, glancing into Alexander’s amethyst eyes as the man inspected his nose. “It isn’t bleeding.”

Dusty watched as Alexander stood, crossed the room, and leaned against the table that held the liquor bottles. Alexander crossed one arm over his chest, dangling the glass of amber liquid in the other hand. “Stand, Dusty.”

Dusty pushed to his feet and began to walk toward Alexander.

“Stop.”

Dusty froze.

“I did not tell you to come here. I said for you to stand.”

“Yes, sir.” Dusty was confused as hell.

“I want you to close your eyes, Dusty. But do not move.”

Dusty wiggled his nose, feeling it throb slightly, and then lowered his eyelids. “Now what, sir?”

“Do not speak, Dusty.”

No talking. Got it.

“I want you to concentrate on my voice, and only my voice.”

Dusty strained to listen when Alexander became silent. He was beginning to wonder if the man had left the room. It felt like hours had stretched before Alexander spoke again.

“Are you concentrating, Dusty?”

Dusty opened his mouth to answer, and then remembered Alexander’s instruction about no talking, so he nodded.

“Then I want you to take one, and only one step toward my voice, Dusty.”

Dusty could tell Alexander was no longer standing by the alcohol. His voice was somewhere off to Dusty’s right. He turned, and then took one step forward.

“Very good, Dusty. I don’t want you to think about what you are doing. I don’t want you concentrating on what’s around you. All I want you to do is listen for my voice.”

He could do that. But he was starting to wonder if Alexander was trying to hypnotize him. The man’s voice had dipped to a low and seductive tone, heavy with syrupy intentions.

“Now, take another step, but just one.”

Dusty lifted his leg and took another step, planting his feet on the floor.

“Do not move a muscle.”

Dusty shivered slightly when Alexander’s voice sounded just behind him. The words had caressed across his shoulder, as if Alexander had dipped his head to speak into Dusty’s ear. He was dying to open his eyes, but he didn’t want to piss his new boss off. Besides, Dusty was somewhat intrigued about Alexander’s little game.

“Take another step, Dusty.”

Dusty began to step but stopped. Alexander’s voice wasn’t to his right any longer. It was to his left. Dusty turned and took a step.

“Another.”

This went on for ten more steps, Alexander never in the same place as before. Dusty was getting frustrated at the game and hard as hell at Alexander’s sultry voice. He wasn’t sure what the man was up to, but damn if he didn’t want some kind of sex to be involved instead of taking blind steps all around the room.