Dylan had worked longer hours than usual, or so Marnie had said—possibly to finish whatever paperwork was left from his trip. And even though it would’ve been nice to have him as my Master once he’d got home, he’d been lucky to get his shoes off before he’d crawled into bed. And tonight was no different. When Dylan finally made it up to our room, Marnie was right behind him, removing bits of clothing whenever she could. His tie ended up somewhere in the doorway. His shirt on the dresser. His pants on a bed post. As he crawled into bed, I threw back the covers to remove his shoes, giving Marnie a sympathetic look. “Does he have to work tomorrow?” I asked, leaning over to set the alarm clock on my side of the bed. “Luckily, no. He has this Saturday off. A mental health day.” I nodded and made sure the alarm was turned off before rolling back over towards Dylan, who had already fallen asleep. My heart sank, and I had to wonder when Marnie would get the attention she needed from him.
