“He’s grown!” He peered into Joshua’s mouth. “Is there another tooth?”
“Yes. Monday night’s addition. Lots of grizzling and a bit of a temperature. I cut his fingernails, too. Deadly things.”
Gemma sat opposite him while Clara prepared Joshua’s lunch.
“Yes, I saw the scratches.”
“And now you’ve added a few of your own, Sir.” She leant on her elbows and fluttered her eyelashes.
“Does he bite?”
“Yes. My nipples. Sharper teeth than yours, too.”
“I haven’t touched your nipples in a long time. Just wait, though. Once Joshua has finished with you, you’ll have me instead. I hope he’s toughened you up.”
She snorted. “I think you could hang a tyre off them and I wouldn’t notice after what Josh has put me through these last few months.”
“A tyre. Not something I have lying around. I think I will stick to my usual collection.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Babababa,” babbled Joshua.
“Still stuck on the Bs. Elocution lessons later, young man,” said Jason between mouthfuls.
“It’s better than the mindless, ear-piercing shrieks.” She recalled the headache she’d acquired the previous day as she and Clara walked about the shops while Joshua hollered from his buggy.
“Shrieker, hey? Don’t know where you get that from, Joshua!” Jason smirked. “I have to gag your mother. Terrible racket she makes sometimes.”
Clara, throughout the banter, maintained a straight face.
“What have you got to eat today?” Jason asked, looking at Joshua but directing his question to Clara.
“Butternut squash and peas,” Clara answered taking Joshua off Jason’s lap and putting him in his high chair. “Healthy food, Mr Lucas.”
“No chocolate?” He caught Gemma’s eye. She tried hard not to pout. “Not happy about that, are we, babe?”
Gemma was on a chocolate ban for a month after she’d commented she couldn’t fit into one of her favourite dresses. She’d made a flippant remark about being flabby and horrible within earshot of her husband.
“I’m coping,” she lied, dismissing an image of chocolate cake from her mind. Instead, she elected to stare out of the kitchen window at the sparrows pecking on the bird table.
“She’s lying, Joshua. Rubbish liar, your mum.” He finished his baguette, washing it down with a glass of coke.
Gemma resisted the temptation to glare back at Jason. “Blacken my name, why don’t you! You men aren’t happy unless I’m trampled underfoot and humiliated,” she mocked.
“So disrespectful. Don’t worry, son, tonight, she will learn her lesson,” Jason pretended to whisper in his son’s ear.
Gemma lost her sulkiness and smiled at him: her happy man. Fresh from what must have been a successful trip overseas and teasing her with unmistakable delight with intense eyes, which for a minute held her in check, making her insides flip flop.
“I have to go.” He picked up his phone and speed dialled a number. “Martinson. Five minutes.”
The playful Dominant slipped away, and Gemma could see the chief executive returning to his place of residence.
Their lunchtime catch up ended. Jason stood up, ruffled his son’s hair, and Gemma followed him into the hallway. She dwelt in her submissive place, unable to relinquish it upon his departure, and sank to her knees in the hallway, her head resting on his thighs.
“It’s good to have you home, Sir.”
“Later, subbie. You can show me you’re appreciation in bed tonight.” He briefly stroked her hair and then left.