Page 5 of Little Treat

“Flirt?” he asked, standing now. “Or go back to strangers’ hotel rooms?”

Fuck. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I think it’s important to talk about,” he said. “As long as everything is consensual and safe, I don’t really think a number should be applied.”

“Jeez, kids these days, they’ve got all this fancy lingo,” I snorted.

“How old are you?”

“Forty. Just turned a couple of weeks back,” I told him.

Jamie placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Well, I’m twenty-three. So there’s what—”

“Seventeen years between us.”

Now gnawing on his lip lightly, he nodded. “I have a confession to make,” he said, his hand sliding down my chest like he was ready to tear my sweater off me.

“You know who I am,” I grumbled into a sigh. It was going to be obvious. I hadn’t meant to wear the team merch, but the beanie was comfy and I didn’t own any other scarves. “You can’t tell anyone. Please.”

Jamie shook his head. “No, that’s not—wait, who are you?” he asked. “I was gonna say, I usually go for older guys because I have a—”

“Fuck.”

He snorted and giggled. “I’m into guys who like to be called Daddy, and guys who want to treat me like a good boy.”

“Fuck, yeah. Okay, I love that.”

Jamie continued to press me against the wall. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. “But who are you? If you think I know you, I wanna know before this goes any further.”

“I’m an assistant coach for the—” I mumbled the team name as he leaned in close trying to catch it.

He shrugged. “The guys at Maplehaven?”

“No, no, I—you know—” I gestured to the hat I’d placed on the hook with my scarf.

“The fucking Maple Kings,” he let out. “Oh my god, oh my god, what?”

I’d really dogged myself into that one. He didn’t know, and now he knew. “Just keep it down,” I said. “I’m—”

“They’re on a losing streak right now,” he said. “My dad’s been obsessed since you guys formed two years back.”

I nodded. “And if we keep that losing streak up, we’re toast.”

“Aren’t you backed by those same billionaires who run Whitespire Academy?”

That I didn’t know, but I knew it was one of those elite schools where those same billionaires no doubt were trained to be money hoarders. “Can we not talk about any of this?” I asked. “I’m trying to get away from everything.”

“I promise not to mention it,” he said. “But if my dad asks, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it down. The assistant coach to the Vermont Maple Kings was in our chocolate shop, and now...” He blew a raspberry, walking off and spinning around in a circle.

“Take your shoes off,” I said, seeing the snow falling off them and wetting the coral-cream tile.

“Yes, Daddy,” he said, turning sharply and pouting.

A thrilling shiver tickled through me—and tingled in all the place I’d been too stressed to pay attention to. “Okay, okay,”I let out, watching him follow my orders and place his boots beside mine at the front door. “This could work. I kinda boss people around for a living, but this time, I’m not going to be getting you to shoot pucks.”

On his knees, he crawled to me. “I thought you said no more work talk,” he said. “We have a rule like that in our house. No work talk.”

It was reasonable, but there was something in me that made it impossible not to have work on my mind. A curse and sometimes a blessing. “So, I’m here for a week. I’ve met a cute guy, and we both want to have fun together. I’m down for whatever you want to do. Call me Daddy, and I’ll call you my boy. You like being submissive.”