When perfection lands right in your lap, you shouldn’t question fate.
Ryan was just looking for live-in staff to take care of his sprawling estate, but as he gets to know Emma and Isaac, he can’t help wondering if he’s found more than just help and friendship. He might’ve found love. But crossing the line between boss and employee could blow up in his face.
With so much at stake, Ryan might need a push to take that leap.
The only thing Emma and Isaac have wanted since they first fell in love was a to balance them out. When all you want to do is serve, it shouldn’t be hard to find a Dom, but life is never that simple. Well, not until Ryan walks into their life and they know they’ve found their Master Right.
But sometimes true love needs a bit of a push… Luckily, Emma is just the woman to give fate a helping hand.
From the Author: This loving MMF romance has mild BDSM, two service subs who know exactly what they want, and a Dom who’s overthinking the perfection that’s landed right in his lap. It’s not necessary to have read the two other books in the series, but it will help explain the backstories of the secondary characters.
Ryan
If his pants got any tighter, it’d only take one deep breath and they’d split down the ass.
Had they been that tight last week?
Had they been that tight the last time he’d bent over?
No, I hadn’t been able to see the bulge from his balls when he’d bent over to pick up the napkins that’d spilled earlier in the kitchen. Just the way his round cheeks had filled out his pants had burned the image into my brain. There was no way I’d have missed how his balls strained the fabric between his legs.
Was he even wearing anything under his pants?
Were those actually pants or those stretchy things women seemed to wear all the time lately?
When I’d explained that the uniform was black pants and a button-down white shirt, I hadn’t planned on it looking quite so alluring. Even the woman at the placement agency said it was a good neutral look.
She’d clearly been wrong too.
“Mr. Ryan?” Emma’s pleasant, always professional-sounding voice had my gaze snapping away from her husband’s ass.
Apologizing for staring at his tempting backside as he reached for something under the table didn’t seem to be in my best interest, so I brazened it out and played the distracted writer. “I’m sorry. I was a million miles away. Did you ask me something?”
Her smile was sweet without being forward, but the twinkle in her eyes was something she couldn’t quite hide.
She knew what I’d been doing, but she ignored it as Isaac inched out from under the table. “I was asking if I could get anything for you.”
Emma flashed me a teasing grin, finally letting some of her real personality show through. “It’s snack time.”
Huffing, I refused to look embarrassed about my habit of wandering into the kitchen at four thirty every afternoon. “I’m not a toddler, merely a creature of habit.”
No matter when I started writing for the day, my brain promptly stopped all creative endeavors at that time and demanded that we head to the kitchen to find something to eat. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just going to grab something quick and I’ll be out of your hair.”
She nodded, giving me an artfully careless shrug. “Yes, Sir. I’ll set aside the banana bread I made and freeze it for another time.”
Then she turned to her husband. “Unless you want some, sweetie? It’s still hot, and I even put some of those mini chocolate chips in it.”
I groaned, playing right into the manipulative brat’s hands. “There aren’t enough hours in the day to work off the calories from all the goodies you’ve been making me.”
In the two weeks I’d been back from my trip, I’d needed to start working out extra just to help make up for all the food she made me. I wasn’t sure how Isaac managed to stay in such good shape when all she wanted to do was feed everyone.
“You’re only supposed to be making breakfast and dinner.” And that was only because she’d originally balked at making one meal a day with the salary I was paying.
I’d been more worried about finding good live-in help who would sign a confidentiality agreement than worrying about what they would actually do, but she kept finding ways to add more work.
Emma gave me a delicate shrug that wasn’t as believable as she seemed to think. “But I was hungry, and you said I could use the main kitchen whenever I wanted.”
Okay, she was right there.
The compact apartment they shared over the garage was nice, but the kitchen was small and there hadn’t been a way of making it bigger without eating up all the space in their living room. Making sure they knew they had free rein in the kitchen seemed only fair, but now it felt like she was using that to find ways to overwork herself.
I was definitely getting manipulated, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Telling someone they were being too nice sounded insane, especially when I was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose. Her sweetness seemed to be like her husband’s pants, designed to tempt me, but there was nothing specific I could point to without sounding like I’d been alone a bit too long.
Writer wasn’t always synonymous with insane, but there were enough correlations that I didn’t want to give the stereotype anything else to work with.
When Isaac finally spoke, I had to remind myself to look at his eyes, not the outline of his dick that was straining against the fabric of his pants. “You have to eat some or I’ll feel guilty. How can I eat homemade banana bread when you’re grabbing a store-bought cookie?”
He was just as good at manipulating me as she was, but his always came with wide eyes and a startling erection that made my mouth water.
I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Fine.” I probably sounded like a child who was pouting. “Just a small piece.”
They both smiled like I’d given them a huge Christmas bonus and started hurrying around the kitchen. “Small piece” translated into several slices artfully arranged on a plate with a glass of milk and another mug of tea.
When I looked at Emma, she smiled. “It’s Thursday.”
“I really need to work on changing my routines.” I huffed as she gave a quiet giggle and looked like she wanted to pat my head.
“Please don’t. I like knowing what you want and what to expect.” Her tone was light, but the way Isaac stilled as he walked over to the fridge said we weren’t exactly hearing the same thing. “It makes my job easier, and I like being able to make you happy.”
How was I supposed to respond to that?
I’d always thought the biggest problem with live-in help would be someone trying to steal shit.
I found myself swallowing and trying to find a response that wouldn’t be overly familiar or just plain weird. “I’m glad you don’t find it difficult to deal with. My friends think I’m a bit peculiar sometimes.”
Of course they’d always thought that, but they probably weren’t wrong, so I’d never really minded.
She scoffed. “You’re not peculiar. You like things a certain way. I appreciate it and so does Isaac. It makes it easier for us to please you.”
Again, how was I supposed to respond to that?
I really didn’t remember the staff in my childhood home having this kind of conversation with my parents. Of course, that might’ve been because my parents had been standoffish and a bit cold. Was this normal?
Somehow, I didn’t think so.
“I appreciate all your hard work. I’d never be able to write and keep up the place without help.” I might have gone a bit overboard when I’d purchased the place. Of course, back then it’d been entirely too many empty, mostly ugly acres, but with my first royalty check burning a hole in my pocket, I’d fallen in love with it.
I simply hadn’t really appreciated how long the building process would take and how much upkeep it would need. Just the landscaping was almost a full-time job, and after several years of trying to manage everything myself with a bit of occasional staff, I’d finally admitted that part-time help wasn’t going to cut it.
“It’s beautiful and we love having a chance like this.” Isaac spoke up again as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “There aren’t a lot of positions like this, and it’s perfect for our needs.”
He was normally so quiet I knew there was something he was trying to tell me, but damned if I’d be able to figure it out when he was so hard it made me ache.
“Then I’m going to try not to feel guilty about enjoying my treats and about how beautiful the yard looks. You’ve done an amazing job in a short amount of time.” I couldn’t help glancing out the window at the beautiful view that was thanks to them.
When they’d first started, right before my trip to visit the guys out in Montana, Isaac had seemed confident that they could get the yard whipped into shape. I just hadn’t realized how quickly they could manage it.
Emma laughed. “You have a brown thumb.”
There was no arguing with that.
“My only creative talents involve my keyboard. The plants just didn’t like me.” Gardening websites and even most of the companies I’d hired to help with the lawn always said it was a science, but that was pure bullshit.
She smiled and gave Isaac a peck on the cheek as he inched closer to get a piece of the delicious bread. “Everyone likes this guy. Plants included.”
It would’ve been a purely innocent comment if it hadn’t been for the pat she’d given his ass as he’d brushed her shoulder with his. The blush on his cheeks didn’t help either.
Who was everyone?
That was just a saying, right?
Nope. I was not going down that mental path because it led to random sex scenes that didn’t go into any book I was writing… and I probably shouldn’t be writing random bits of dirty erotica based on my employees.
That had to be some kind of sexual harassment thing, even if they didn’t know about it, right?
“Eat your snack, sweetie. You’ll need the strength for later.”
He would?
She turned that innocent smile to me. “He won rock-paper-scissors and gets to start cutting that back field.”
She gave a delicate shiver that looked so dirty I almost moaned. “That tractor is so much fun to ride on.”
The fact that both of them fought to have that tractor underneath them hadn’t gone unnoticed, but that was just her teasing… right?
“That thing is the only good part of yard work.” It was a badass riding lawn mower that looked more like it should be a Transformer. It’d cost an obscene amount of money, but it was fun.
She laughed. “No, the best part of yard work is sweaty men. Big tractors are just second best.”
Isaac’s cheeks pinked again. I couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed by her talking about him like that or if they both liked sweaty men.
But they were married.
That had to mean something, right?
“Okay, I’ll agree to that.” I hadn’t made any secret about my sexuality once the confidentiality clause had been signed. I had no desire to end up with employees living so close who hated my guts, but I’d never expected either of them to embrace it so easily.
To say I had questions would’ve been an understatement.
She grinned and gestured toward the food. “Eat up. We both know you’re going to be up all hours tonight worrying that you’re behind.”
It was my turn to blush.
“One of these days I’m going to be spontaneous and change my schedule,” I grumbled as they both grinned.
“Perish the thought.” She waved her hand as she headed over to the sink.
As she started washing the dishes, I looked at Isaac, who was standing by the counter. “Come sit down. We’ve had this discussion.”
I could understand if they wanted to eat as a couple, but hiding away at the counter while I was at the table eating the same thing was silly.
“I shouldn’t…” Isaac’s voice trailed off as I gave him a stern look. It was probably too rough, but I wanted to nip the master of the house thing in the bud. We were in the kitchen having a snack—it wasn’t a three-course dinner party.
He nodded, standing straighter and looking even sexier somehow. “Yes, Sir.”
Sir?
It’d been a long time since anyone had managed to make that word sound so wonderfully submissive.
But did he know how it would make me feel… how it would come across?
I’d been careful to leave that part of my life in the past. I hadn’t been to a club or dated anyone interesting in years. After a few close calls with privacy when my first book went big, I’d quickly realized that I could write or I could be a Dom, but I couldn’t be both. Not if I wanted to maintain my privacy.
Maybe if I kept reminding myself of that, then it would be easier to ignore the erection that was pressed against my zipper and only got harder as Isaac sat down across from me.
“Very good. Thank you.”
I was going to hell.
All I wanted to do was pet his head and tell him he was a good boy.
Keeping my hands to myself and reaching for my mug took more strength than it should have, and Isaac’s sweet blush wasn’t making it any easier.
But the most stressful part was that, based on the smile that was reflected back in the window over the sink, Emma would’ve happily let me.
I was going to spend all afternoon writing dirty sex instead of letting my character find new people to kill.
It was going to be a long night.