Milk For The Billionaire’s Little: MM Ageplay Romance by Harper Dunbar

Author:Harper Dunbar [Dunbar, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: In Ink Press
Published: 2025-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

8

JAMES

When I was told I had a delivery, I half suspected it was the mask. Kennan seemed like the type to be a little extra and bring it himself instead of waiting until the day of the event. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe I just wanted it to be him.

But when I went downstairs to the door, it wasn’t.

It was a man in a suit. Very business-like. Fancy, even. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and a paper shopping bag in the other, a weird orange-colored one.

“I take it you’re James?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I was asked to bring these to you.”

“Thank you,” I said automatically, my brain still catching up to what was happening.

Then I hesitated. “Can I ask a question?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop me.

“Are you sure it’s me? Should I, like… show you ID or something?” Nothing in a garment bag was cheap. Ever.

“No, I’m sure it’s you,” he said with a smile. “They’re from Mr. … they’re from Kennan.”

Just hearing his name sent a little thrill through me. We hadn’t used names for long, so it still felt new, like a gift every time he said mine or I said his.

Kennan and I had been chatting back and forth about the event, although not really about the event. More like… using the event as an excuse to talk. And neither of us seemed in a rush to stop doing that.

“Should I sign anything?” I asked.

“No, you’re good. Have a nice night, sir.”

Sir. That made me laugh a little internally. The only time I’d heard someone call me sir was when they were about to tell me I needed to fill out more paperwork. Definitely not from someone this well-dressed. It was weird now that I thought about it—that a delivery guy would be so dressed up.

I shrugged it off and brought the bags back up to my room.

The first thing I did was unzip the garment bag. Inside was a suit. Or maybe a tux? I didn’t even know the difference. How horrible was that? I ran my fingers down the lapel. What sat inside was definitely not a box store special. This outfit was nice. The garment bag gave nothing away about where it originated, but the suit inside said it was someplace I wouldn’t be welcome. That was for sure.

I pulled out my phone and sent him a message: You rented me a suit??

Less than thirty seconds later, he replied with a voice text: “No. It’s a gift. It’s for the ball. Try it on. See if it fits. I did my best guessing your size.”

I slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror. I looked like someone else. Someone important. Someone who could walk into a ballroom without worrying about being laughed at or mistaken for catering staff.

Even with my tousled hair and my white socks peeking out underneath the pants—crap. Shoes. I was going to have to go get shoes. At least those could be from the discount store.

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