But my cock was tenting in my pants, telling me to be the reckless one. With a sigh, she kicked off her heels and padded toward the kitchen.

“Ken, you home?” she called, her voice sharp but warm, the kind of tone that expected an answer.

Upstairs,servant Ken slumped on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. All the hugs and smiles, all the smart little quips, the smirks, the sly comments.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Fucking. I’m not kidding.”

He snatched it from her, their hands brushing–his rough fingers against her smooth ones–and the contact sent a jolt through him.