Discovering Leigh: A Dark Romance (Lovers of Leigh Book 1) by Gerry Pelser

Author:Gerry Pelser [Pelser, Gerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780620792813
Publisher: Self-Published
Published: 2018-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve.

1

Mikey would lie if he said he did not love it. He got himself a paperback from the bedroom, got comfortable back in the lounge, and pretended to read. He would not have been able to read if he wanted to. There was a gorgeous redhead in his kitchen willingly doing his clean-up job! If life got better than this, he did not know how. Doris Marais’ son Mikey was happy, and forced himself not to think that tomorrow morning she would be next to her boyfriend, and he would be… doing what exactly? That was a thought just too distressing to contemplate. In the meantime, he was just enjoying life for what it was: pretty damn perfect. He sighed in contentment and lived in the moment.

After half an hour of staring at his paperback without reading a word—he would not have noticed if he was holding it upside down—Leigh came back into the lounge, stood at attention, and gave him a lop-sided salute that would have made anyone who had ever done military service cringe. “I’m done, Sir, ready for inspection.”

“Well, are you now,” he asked, put down his book, and got up from the chair. “Let’s go see.” He walked over to the kitchen, and the state of it astonished him. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, sparkling. Not even when it was but a bare shell before he moved in was the kitchen this spotless. She not only washed the dishes, but swept and mopped the floor, wiped the counters, and cleaned the stove-top of cooking-splatter. He was literally speechless for a few seconds.

He stood there slack-jawed, impressed. “Bloody hell. That’s friggin’ great, isn’t it!? No, that is fucking awesome. I think I should make you my house-elf more often! Holy crap, lady, do you do ironing?”

She gave him a sideways glance with a smirk attached. “Don’t push it, Sir.”

“Leigh, this is reward material! You got yourself a gold star in Sir Michael’s class. Bang-up good job!”

“Does that mean I don’t have to wear my headgear to Asylum tonight?”

He nodded. “Oh yes. I think so. You have certainly exceeded my expectation of your duties. No need to carry on wearing that thing. You may take it off.”

She sat down in her chair in the lounge, and to his surprise she said: “No, Sir.”

“No,” he asked, plopping into his own chair.

She shook her head. “Too easy.”

“Too easy?” He looked at her, perplexed.

She exhaled through puffed cheeks. He could see that she was conflicted about what she wanted to say. “Sir, we’re doing this for real, right? I mean, this is not make-believe, this is a real?”

“Absolutely. This is not role-play. I don’t like it. It’s inauthentic. The cuffs are real. The knots are real. The mindset I’ve tried to create with us is most definitely real. Yes, it’s a game, but it’s a very real game.”

She swallowed nervously. “Sir, wearing my headgear out in public is arguably the scariest thing I can think of, just below things like rape, or getting a gun pointed at my head.

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