A young man wearing an apron met them at the door to the playroom. “Another espresso, slave.” George held out his cup, and the boy took it, never meeting his eyes. When the Dominant waved him off, the boy hurried to do as he was told.
“He’s young.” Rafael tried not to stare at the boy’s ass as he walked off.
“Elliot just turned twenty.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Have you not seen him before?”
“Has he been to the club with you?” Pausing so his mentor could fill him in, they entered the home dungeon.
George shook his head. “When it hits you who he is, you’ll know why.”
Rafael shot him a questioning look, but refrained from asking any more questions. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer. “I knew you liked ‘em young, but damn.”
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