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For better enjoyment, I recommend reading this after reading Insatiable.

Logan and Brody

Bonus Epilogue from Insatiable

Brody's Yes Day

6 Months Later

The first thing I do as soon as I come to is pat the bed beside me, searching for him without even meaning to.

It’s not my fault. It’s been a long time and we’ve been through so much of the long distance relationship crap that I just want him to myself all the time. Pressed against me, holding my hand, his lips on mine, whichever way.

And now I finally get him all to myself.

No more London. No more Skype dates. No more sexting. With Logan’s visa approved and all the moving in shenanigans behind us, we get to live the life we’re meant to live. In my house, in my farm, with my man.

But he’s not beside me.

I open my eyes and look at his side of the bed. It looks as empty as it felt.

Where did he go? We’re supposed to spend the day in bed doing absolutely nothing!

There’s a baby blue envelope on his pillow and a hundred different thoughts go through my head as I reach for it.

Surely he wouldn’t leave after all we had to go through to finally be together. Surely he wouldn’t do it like this, like a chicken. Like Theo.

No, Logan wouldn't do that. He loves me. He truly loves me and I love him. Yes, the way we started didn’t exactly paint him in the best light, but I know him now. I know who he is and what he is, and he’s not a wuss. He’s a man of his word, for better or for worse.

I open the envelope with shaky fingers and take a piece of paper out scribbled in his cursive handwriting.

***

“Good morning, baby!

Today is your lucky day.

I know this whole move and the visa shit hasn’t been easy on you and you’ve been really stressed for a while, so I wanted to do something for you.

I officially announce today as Brody’s Day. Or, your very own Yes Day.

You’re off work today. You will relax, enjoy, and I’ll be your man-servant from dusk ‘til dawn. I will do anything you ask of me. I simply can’t say no.

So, get up, get dressed and pop down for your British-American brekkie that I know you love so much. Today is full of possibilities only limited by your imagination.

Your faithful servant,

Logan x”

***

The breath of relief that washes over me was so strong it almost makes me lightheaded.

I knew he wouldn’t do that. See! I was worried about nothing.

I reread the letter and admire the beauty of his writing while going through a million scenarios of how I can use this special day to my advantage and to have fun.

Not that fun is an unknown word in my life. Since Logan and I got together again that day at the bookshop, fun has become my middle name. Even while he was away in London we found the most creative ways to be together and feel close to each other.

But a Yes Day? I can take my sweet joy with that. Nothing like a little power play to spice things up and keep it interesting.

I put the letter on the bedside table and jump in the shower for a quick wash before getting dressed and joining my boyfriend downstairs. The whole of the first floor smells of pancakes and grease, and when I walk into the kitchen, Logan looks up from the stove and smiles.

“Morning, baby,” I say.

“Good morning, my prince,” he replies as he usually does, making my insides do a wacky somersault at his mere sight. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“What do you think?” I say and make for the coffee machine.

Logan steps in my way and shakes his finger in my face.

“I’m your servant today, remember?” he says.

“That’s right. You are! Well…in that case, can you pour my morning coffee?” I ask with a smirk and Logan reciprocates.

He pecks my lips and spins around to serve my brew. I sit at the kitchen island and watch his movements, admiring the broad back, the firm butt cheeks. It’s a shame they’re covered in clothes.

“What is it?” he asks when he sets my cup in front of me, shaking me out of my daze.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Tell me…” he insists.

I wrap my hands around my mug and bring it to my lips with a shrug.

“I was just thinking how hot it’d be if you were prancing around my kitchen au naturel,” I say and take a sip.

Logan smirks and turns around. He walks to the wall, picks up the apron hanging on a hook and puts it on, then goes up to the stove and takes the bacon out of the frying pan. As he does, the waistband of his pajama bottoms slips down and with another tug ends up on the floor, leaving me with a magnificent view of my boyfriend’s naked ass.

Or arse, as he loves saying with long, sensual vowels and hisses that can turn me on in an instant. Especially when the breeze of said hisses blew on the back of my neck, or the small of my back.

“Is that enough?” he asks.

“It will do,” I say, staring at those bouncy cheeks that are mine and mine alone.

Okay, I guess they also belong to Logan, but they’re primarily mine.

“I meant breakfast,” Logan chuckles and shows me the plate he’s holding, turning to face me and denying me the view of his back.

I look at the pancakes, bacon, sausages and eggs on the plate and my mouth waters. My stomach grumbles as if I didn’t know I was hungry until then. He pours a generous serving of maple syrup on my plate and serves me breakfast.

Logan turns his back on me and gets to work washing the kitchen equipment he’d used, offering me something to look at.

I’m painfully hard. And the breakfast being so mouthwatering good doesn’t help matters.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do today?” he asks when we’re both done and he takes the apron off, allowing me to admire his front in all its glory.

The grin on his lips, and the fire in his eyes annoys me because I know he knows exactly the effect he has on me and is taking full advantage of it. But I’m supposed to be taking advantage of him.

Game on, Mr. Graves. Game on.

“Yes, actually. You can clean the first floor. And seeing as we’ve already got enough laundry to last a lifetime, you can keep your clothes off so you don’t get them dirty,” I say.

His eyes flare up, and he pulls his head back an inch. He looks surprised by my directness, and I like it. He takes a second before he nods, smirks and does a small bow.

“Go on then. What are you waiting for? The feather duster is under the sink. Chop chop. Time is a-wasting.” I clap my hands together, biting down the urge to laugh.

“All right,” Logan replies and takes off his sweater.

His fingers wrap around the hem and lift slowly past his abs, his chest, and he pulls his arms free.

If he thinks a sensual strip is going to distract me…well, he’s right.

“Actually, you can address me as sir today.”

He bundles up the sweater in his muscular hands and takes a deep breath.

“Okay…sir,” he says, brows creasing in the middle.

“Why don’t you start in the living room. That way I can…uhm-keep my eye on you.”

“As you wish…sir.”

He does a big bow and then bends down in front of the cupboard to retrieve the duster, giving me a good view of his balls and puckered pink hole.

Motherfucker. You will not break me.

When he stands up straight, I take my eyes off him and pretend he’s not even there as I go to the living room, pick up a book and lie on the couch while Logan gets to work around me.

“It’s quite cold in here,” I say to him.

He pauses his dusting of the coffee table and smiles warmly.

“Then I’ll put some wood in…sir,” he says.

As he walks away from me, I slap his butt. “Atta boy.”

He shakes his head and does as told, but for the life of me I can’t concentrate on the book. All I want to do is take my dick out and play while watching him.

No. I need a better distraction. Stat.

“I just remembered I need to move some boxes for an order being picked up today. Will you help me?”

“No work. Remember?” he says.

“Well, I won’t be working. You are,” I say with a smirk.

Logan opens his mouth but seems to think better of it.

“You just found yourself a loophole, didn’t you?”

I shrug and drop the book beside me, making my way to the distillery. He follows me with that beautiful dick of his standing proudly behind me as I open the door.

“There. I need 10 boxes by the door for Smithy’s.” I point to the stack of wine in the back, completely ignoring the elephant—and his trunk—in the room.

To his credit, Logan does what I ask of him. Again. Even though he’s naked and barefoot and his skin is all pimply from the chill in the distillery.

And, oh boy is he a sight to behold as he carries the heavy boxes. His biceps flexing like all hell. His back a smooth surface I could lick for days all the way down to his ass.

I forget I’m supposed to be torturing him and not giving him the pleasure, and my hand finds its place over my crotch, pressing down, making my arousal so fucking painful.

“You know, sir, I can take care of that for you, sir,” he says and before I’ve even looked at his beautiful eyes, he’s gone down on his knees in front of me.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I tell him, looking down at him.

Okay, maybe I want to torture him, but those icy blue eyes aren’t defeated, so I may as well enjoy myself.

He tries to free me of my pants, but I take a step back, backtracking on my desk.

“I don’t want you to suck me…yet. How about…” I look around the room and I get a nice visual that I need recreated ASAP. “How about you touch yourself against that pillar?”

Logan looks at the metal post a few feet from my desk and grins.

“As you wish, sir,” he says and leans against the post.

He smooths his hands over his chest, then his fingers trail down his six-pack and down to the dips of his v-shape, making me appreciate, for the hundredth time, the divine creature that is my boyfriend.

“You like that, sir?” he asks in a lower tone that makes my bones tremble with need for his…bone.

“Oh, I like very much,” I say and sit on the desk. “How about you turn around and…finger yourself?”

“Would that please you, sir?” Logan says with a bite of his lower lip.

“It would most definitely please me watching you fuck yourself,” I tell him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He turns his back on me, bends over and with his left shoulder pressed against the pillar, he trails his fingers around his butt hole, teasing me to no end.

He puts a finger in his mouth, then a second, and when he pulls them away they glisten with wetness. He smears the saliva around his pucker and then pushes his middle finger in. I watch his face as his eyes roll back and his lips part in a quiet gasp while his fingers rub in and out of him. My cock pulses in my pants, so I pull it free and wrap my hand around my hard length.

Logan doesn’t even need telling what to do. His eyes stay pinned on my dick and he slides a second finger in his hole, and this time he lets some low-key moans escape his lips, which only make me more desperate.

I lean back on the desk and a bottle of syrup jabs at my waist. I move it out of the way when I get another idea to make this session even hotter.

“Pour maple syrup over your body,” I tell him and pick up the bottle.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of that first?” he says, pointing at my erection.

“I’ve got this. You take this,” I say and wink.

“It will make a mess.”

I raise an eyebrow and dare him to challenge me again.

“You’re the boss, sir,” he says and takes a few steps back with the bottle in his hand. He takes the cap off and tips the bottle over his chest.

The treacle flows over the mounds of his torso, dripping down his abs and wetting his pubes. He looks pure sin and an absolute delight but he doesn’t stop there. He pours more over his arms, his back, his dick until he’s full of maple from head to toe. Or neck to toe to be more precise.

He rubs his hands sensually over every curve of his body and I let a growl as I lose all patience and attack him with my tongue, licking his nipples. I trail up to his neck and the sugar rush gets to my head.

Logan lifts his hands behind his head and grips the pillar as I let my tongue go to town on his sweet, perfect body. Of course no amount of licking or slurping can clean him up, but a girl can try.

I get down on my knees and take his crown in my mouth, the mix of his salty precum with the sweetness of the maple driving me even more insane than I already feel.

He moans. He gasps. He trembles. The more he reacts to my touch, the wilder I get until I forget all about the maple and just go to town pleasing my boyfriend.

“That feels so good, sir,” he mutters. “Suck me, sir. Please me, sir. Make me cum…sir.”

And so I do. I stroke and suckle and go faster until I feel his sweet release down my throat, but even then I can’t stop. Logan’s body spasms and his eyes squeeze shut the more I lick until he pushes me away from his cock and lifts me up to his lips.

“That was…” he gasps.

“That was,” I agree and kiss him.

His tongue pushes into my mouth and his hand touches my still erect dick, giving it a few tugs.

“You still need taking care of, sir,” he says. “Would you like to use my mouth or my hole?”

How? How can this, any of this, be real?

“Are you sure I’m not dreaming of you?”

“How many months before you stop asking me that?” he says.

“It’ll probably be years,” I reply and take a step back. I give him the once over and make up my mind. “Turn over.”

“Excellent choice…sir,” he says and leans over the desk, giving me access to his hole.

I spit in my palm and rub it around my crown along with any precum, and then I claim him. As he is. Naked. Sticky. Sweet. And fucking hot as all hell.

“Oh yes, sir. Like that. Breed me, sir. Breed this filthy servant, sir,” he moans until I shoot my load in him.

My knees weaken and my breath goes.

“Knock, knock,” someone says as the door of the distillery slides open and Smithy’s son walks in with a big smile. A smile that freezes like the rest of him, the minute his eyes land on us.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp.

My voice seems to jolt him into action and he turns around so we can make ourselves decent. Although how decent a man covered in syrup can get is an excellent question. Especially considering he has no clothes anywhere in the vicinity.

Damn it. I thought I locked the distillery last night. It’s like I’m begging to get robbed. Or being walked in on while I was having my way with my boyfriend.

“No, I’m sorry. I…I should have knocked. Like, properly knocked, instead of…you know, just saying ‘knock, knock,’” the young man says. “I can, uhm, come back.”

I separate myself from Logan and pull my pants back up. Logan walks around the desk and sits on the chair, covering his lower half.

“No, it’s okay. Those boxes there are all yours,” I tell him as I approach him. The poor thing’s blushing like a tomato.

He avoids looking at me, choosing instead to pick up the boxes he came for. I give him a hand to make this torture end faster.

“I’m sorry. I…hope you have a fun day,” he says when he gets in his truck.

“We don’t usually do this while expecting company,” I tell him. “I thought I’d locked.”

The young man puts his hands up and chuckles.

“Hey, it’s your barn, your space. You can do whatever, or whoever you want. No shame in that,” he says.

“How about we forget this happened? I don’t think I can face you or your father again otherwise,” I say, cringing at the thought of visiting Smithy’s in the future.

“Forget what?” Smithy Junior winks and reverses out of the driveway.

“That was hot. I pity the man who has to clean this up,” Logan says when I get back in and lock the door behind me.

I look at him and frown.

“But…you’re cleaning this up. Aren’t you…servant?” I tell him and for the first time today he looks rattled by our little roleplay.

Well, he started it and I’m not about to let him go free early.

“I’ll be inside when you’re done. Maybe I’ll even help you shower,” I say and sashay away from him and into the house, putting all my energy into my hips. If I can get him horny again, he might not be long.

He takes record time to clean up, so I guess my seduction worked, and when he gets back we both jump in the shower where I continue to claim his body.

When we get to bed at night, I am beat and spent as fuck. It turns out I’m weak and having Logan at my service is a hard job. A really hard job.

“That was a fun day. We should do that again. Soon,” I tell him.

“Fuck that,” Logan says as he pulls back the comforter. “I’m not cleaning shit naked for your pleasure again.”

He grimaces.

“I meant the Dom/sub play, mister,” I add.

“That, I can get behind.” He smiles.

“Mmm, no. It’s me who gets behind, servant. Remember?”

“Aye, sir,” he says and jumps in bed.

I pull the comforter on my side, but before I can take my space for the night, I find another envelope on the sheets.

“What is that?” I ask and lie down.

“That…is another surprise,” he says. “You know you’ve been telling me since we met how you’ve never gone anywhere outside of Vermont?”

I open the envelope and take out a lot of folded papers. They’re all printed tickets for trips.

Paris.

Italy.

Turkey.

Singapore.

Thailand.

Australia.

“Wha—”

“That, my love, is your present. Our present. As soon as we’re done with tapping season I’m taking you on a trip around the world,” he says and leans over me, his eyes burning mine with their intensity.

I can’t believe it. This isn’t just a simple present. This…this is simply the second best present I could have ever asked for. Because I already got the first one I could ever need.

Him.

Logan Graves.

“I love you so much,” I say and I still can’t believe that he’s mine and I’m his.

I don’t think I’ll ever believe it.

“I love you more, my prince Charming,” he replies, making my insides do somersaults again.

Yeah, I guess this is my life now. Whether I like or not.

With him by my side. Forever.

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