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Touch



Copyright © 2017 by Cara Dee

All rights reserved

Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.

Disclaimer: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


This book is a work of fiction. All references to ancient or historical events, persons living or dead, locations, and places are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s own imagination. Similarities to persons living or dead, places, or events are entirely coincidental.


The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.


Warning: These novels contain scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and are intended for adults 18+. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.


Before diving into the world of BDSM, research, turn to your local community, and be aware of the risks. The author of Touch adheres to RACK; Risk-Aware Consensual Kink, and PRICK; Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink.


Formatted by Rachel Lawrence.

The Touch Series

&

Behind the Scenes

Book I: Look but Don't Touch

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part I

Book II: Twice the Touch

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Book III: Touch to Surrender

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part II

Book IV: Touch of Trouble

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Behind the Scenes: The First Touch

Behind the Scenes: Losing His Touch

Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part III

Behind the Scenes: The Touch of a Sadist

Book V: Comforting Touch

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part IV

Behind the Scenes: Out of Touch

Book VI: Touching Ink

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Behind the Scenes: Symbolic Touches

Behind the Scenes: Touched by the Ever After

Behind the Scenes: Touching Truth, Part V

Epilogue: The Winning Touch

Acknowledgments

Lisa, Stephanie, Rachel, Deb, Adèle, L.J., the Sadists in my life, Eliza, my friends, my dirty crew, my readers. Stay kinky!



Look but Don’t Touch


Chapter 1

Nicholas Ford

Goddammit. Amanda launches into her next tantrum as soon as I exit the bathroom.

"I really don't understand why you have to show your face at Switch so often." The distaste is clear in her voice. "Thank goodness you're not into that BDSM lifestyle. It's disgusting."

Indeed, thank goodness…

Safe to say, telling her I'm very much involved in that lifestyle—or used to be—wouldn’t go over well. To her, I'm merely an entrepreneur, a club owner. I have five of them here in the Bay Area, in one of which I met Amanda four months ago, but Switch is most definitely my baby. At this stage of my life, it's the only place I can breathe.

"And I really don't understand why I would have to explain how this works again," I tell her pointedly. "It's my job, for chrissakes."

Reentering my bedroom after my shower, I walk into my closet and pick out what to wear. I can hear Amanda; she's fled to the kitchen where she's slamming cupboards and pulling out pans with way too much force. She has no reason to be upset, in my opinion. I told her countless times I would be unable to spend time with her family tonight, yet when today arrived, she thought I was "tactless" if I didn’t go with her.

I don’t see the issue. I will meet her family tomorrow at her sister's wedding; she can go to the rehearsal dinner by herself. I'd go with her, obviously, if I hadn't had this event planned for months.

Whatever she is doing in the kitchen is just an attempt to gain attention, seeing as the rehearsal dinner is only an hour away. Less than that, even.

It's what I get for letting my family's incessant talk of leaving bachelorhood behind get to me. That, and loneliness. "You're thirty-six years old, dear. You're not getting any younger." After one particularly gruesome chat with my mother, I surrendered and went out. I went vanilla. I met Amanda.

I became miserable too, but that’s my own fault.

You know what you should do.

I suppress a sigh.

I'm not blind. We're heading in that direction, regardless. This won't last. I don’t have enough willpower, and Amanda wasn’t lying when she implied I'm at Switch often. Perhaps a bit more than my job requires.

After tucking in my button-down, I hesitate upon inspecting my ties. In the end, I decide to skip it. On a night like this, I need to be comfortable, which is kind of ironic. Since abandoning D/s, tonight's event will most definitely leave me uncomfortable.

I suppose I'm a glutton for punishment, but I'm aching to at least watch. Sure, making an appearance is important; however, I can't deny that I want to be there. It's the only aspect of my old life I have left, and I find myself clinging to it desperately.

My phone dings on my nightstand, so I walk over and check to find a message from Cade. I assume he's already at the club.

Who's the new boy? Southern accent, complete goofball.

I smirk and respond.

You sniffed him out fast, my friend. His name is Dylan. Recently moved here.

By the time I've put on socks and shoes, he's replied.

Is he a relationship guy? I wouldn’t mind some casual playtime.

"Good grief," I mutter to myself. I'm not the only Top in my circle of friends a bit too jaded and settling for the wrong things. Cade's right there with me, a fellow Daddy Dom who recently got out of a toxic relationship.

I don't know him well yet. I'd be careful.

After texting him once more, telling him I'll be around tonight, I pocket my phone and return to the bathroom.

A while later, I'm back in my bathroom. Leaning closer to the mirror, I inspect my freshly shaved face, and I can't help but grimace. To my dismay, my age is beginning to show. A bit of gray stands out against the brown. The corners of my eyes crinkle more than before when I smile. Though, I frown more than smile nowadays. My body may be in great condition, but that matters little when I'm barely content. I stand tall at six-two, yet I feel hunched.

Hopefully, I will be in good spirits after tonight. I just need a dose of what my past used to offer. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.

"Nick!" Amanda calls. "Are you ready to go?" She appears in the doorway, her blond hair bouncing lightly with her movements. "You're handsome." There's a small smile on her lips, but I can see she's still upset.

"And you look pretty," I reply automatically as I fasten my watch.

She's already tall at five-ten, so the high heels are unnecessary if you ask me. Then again, I'm more into delicate ballet flats when it comes to girls—women. In my past, I've been involved in what my Littles wear, and now it feels odd to only offer an opinion. Not only that, but it has to be complimentary.

In an extremely revealing blue dress, Amanda does look attractive; it's just not something I would've chosen for her. Or the blood-red nail polish. Because I don’t go for bold colors when there are pastels.

I want soft cotton, coy smiles, adorable giggles, a round little bottom, baby smooth skin, pigtails, pert tits, and pleas for Daddy's thick cock.

I almost have to close my eyes and take calming breaths to rein it in.

"So, are you ready to go?" she asks again, tapping her foot. "We could share a cab."

I shake my head and roll up the sleeves on my shirt. "I'm not drinking tonight, so I'm driving. If you want, I can drop you off at the hotel."

"Sounds good," she agrees, and we leave the bathroom. "By the way, we still need to talk more about my moving in here."

This again.

"I've already told you it's way too soon." I clench my jaw and pocket my keys, phone, and wallet. She is here all the time, and I don’t mind it—much. The ad agency she runs is just a five-minute walk from here, so I see the convenience.

"Too soon," she scoffs. "Be serious, Nick. It's time. We're not getting any younger."

I cringe, disappointed I fell for that line when it was my mother who said it. Now it only grates on my nerves. We're hardly old.

"That’s not a reason to rush into things. Especially not if we argue as often as we do." I shake my head, refusing to get sucked into this now. "I don’t have time for this. Let's go."

"Fine," she grits out. "But we're talking about it soon. We need to move forward, not take steps backward."

I pretend I don’t hear that and walk toward the hallway, wondering how long I can take this—the faking, the pretending everything is okay.

It worked swimmingly for about two months, and I foolishly believed I loved her. We even exchanged the dreadful words, something I regret. It's not fair to either of us.

I've cared for her; I've enjoyed spending time with her, she's good in bed—albeit a little too demanding for my tastes—and I've agreed to meet her family, but the good hasn't outweighed the bad in over a month. We're destined to crash and burn, yet she talks of moving forward—together.

*

About fifteen minutes later, we're on our way in my car, and while the silence is fine by me, it's not for Amanda. I'm still irritated beyond words.

She, on the other hand, starts yapping about her family as if we didn’t just have an argument.

Perhaps it's the excitement of seeing her family again. Only her sister and she live here in San Francisco; the rest reside in Oregon. But everyone is down for Amber's wedding tomorrow. It will be the first time I meet any of them.

And last. You can't deny that anymore.

"…but we call her Drifter." Amanda chuckles wryly about another cousin of hers. "I swear, that girl is always on the move. Last I heard, she lived in Florida." She sighs and looks out the window. "We can only hope she won't make another spectacle. Last time we all got together, she caused a scene and stormed out, just because we didn’t agree on something. So immature."

I hum in acknowledgment, pretending to listen, and stop at a red light. I can't help it, really, but my mind is occupied with thoughts about tonight—and not Amanda's night. We have themed events at Switch every month, and it's been a long time since that theme was for Daddy Doms and Littles. The closest we've come recently was a few months ago when Fetish Night was about spanking, and many Daddies showed up with their little ones.

Chapter 2

When I enter my club, it's buzzing with anticipation. I'm relieved, being in a place where I can finally let go and be myself. I greet several friends and acquaintances on the way, and I try to keep my eyes off the submissives, many of them wearing frilly dresses or just skimpy underthings. Looking is obviously allowed, but merely being here is tempting enough. If I were smart, I'd stay out here in the lobby, or maybe even hide out upstairs in my office. If I were smart…

The club area, square-shaped with high ceilings and kept deliberately dark, is simply furnished, the only decoration being erotic photos on the walls. The main seating area is to the left when I enter; I nod hello to Cade and a couple others before heading right to the bar.

Contraptions such as a St. Andrew's Cross, benches, a leather sling, and suspension bars take up most of the space beyond the dance floor, which bothers me lately. We're getting more and more members, and it's not uncommon for kinksters to complain about the lack of space for scening.

"Evening, my friend." I greet Mark, one of my bartenders and a close friend, and order a tonic water with lime. We talk a little while I survey the club, and he mentions that his divorce has been finalized. "That’s a relief," I note. "You settling into your new place all right?"

"It's a damn haven," he chuckles wryly.

I can imagine.

The rock music playing is loud, though not so loud that I have to shout to be heard, and I smile, satisfied with the large crowd. The dance floor may be pretty empty, but this isn't a night for dancing. The booths are full, and a few groups of people have already gathered near the demo platform by the eastern wall.

"Um, hi! May I have a Sprite, please?" a happy voice asks Mark. Tilting my head, I see a young woman, definitely a Little, standing there. Her lush, auburn hair is gathered in two low pigtails, long enough to reach past her ample cleavage. Her baby-doll dress is both innocent and provocative as hell. In light yellow with white lace, it's cute. But the way it pushes her tits together shoves "innocent" out the window. It's also short, ending right below her ass, and exposes her sexy legs. Fuck. White cotton kneesocks. Flat Mary Jane shoes that match her dress.

She's fair-skinned, delicate-looking, but her eyes… I chuckle quietly to myself and take a sip from my tonic. Her pale blue eyes have a spark of mischievousness in them.

"Here you go, hon," Mark says, and he's about to tell her the price when I wave it off. He smirks and nods once. "Never mind, then."

The girl turns in my direction, smiles shyly, and gives me a small curtsy. "Thank you for the drink, Sir."

"You're very welcome." I incline my head and smile. Happy and bubbly have been replaced by demure and coy, and I'd be a liar if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. As long as I'm only looking…

"Um." She fidgets with her glass. "Are you here alone?"

"I am." It's technically true.

"Oh." Her head bobs in a small nod, eyes focused on her drink. "I see."

Leaning closer, I ask, "Hasn't Daddy told you not to speak to strangers, little one?"

"I'm here alone, too. I have no rules." She meets my gaze and juts out her chin. How cute. I think this one has a stubborn streak in her. That makes me yearn even more. "There aren't only couples here, you know."

"I'm aware," I concede with a laugh. Of course unattached people come here. "You're a sassy one, aren't you?" And she doesn’t have a Daddy to take care of her or keep her in line? Christ.

"Shit, sorry." In the faint glow of the spotlights behind the bar, her cheeks flush scarlet. She looks down again and shuffles her feet. "The Daddy I had in Texas told me I was a brat sometimes. I'm really sorry, Sir."

When she once again meets my gaze, it feels like she could make Bambi look evil. Because this girl's doe eyes have to be the most beautiful ones I've ever seen. I also realize she has to be very young. Age difference has never bothered me, but I've never had a Little Girl more than five or six years younger than I.

"No reason to apologize, sweet girl. I happen to enjoy brats." Taking a step closer, I set down my drink and silently ask for her hand. She offers it straightaway, and I hold it in both of mine. "I'm Nicholas Ford."

Her eyes grow wide. "K-Kayla Brandon," she stutters. "Did you—I mean…Nicholas Ford, as in—this is your c-club?"

I nod, a bit amused to see her so flustered. "That’s correct."

"Oh," she exhales. "Chelsea—a friend of mine in New York, she told me I had to come here. She said this is the best BDSM club in San Francisco. Crap, sorry, I'm rambling." She cringes. "I blame jet lag."

I laugh through my nose and give her hand a squeeze. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Kayla. I take it you're new in town?"

"Yes, Sir. I just got back from visiting a friend in Spain. Before that, I was in Florida, and now I'm here." She blows out a breath before taking a big gulp of her Sprite. "I'm thinking about moving here. I don’t know. I have some family here, but they hardly count—" She grimaces. "And now you know a bunch of stuff you never asked for." I grin as she rolls her eyes at herself. "Rewind. Yes, Sir. I'm new in town."

"Too cute." I chuckle and tap her on the nose. She flushes again. "If you're here for the scenes later, I hope you enjoy." I take a step back. "I'll be around, so if you need me, don’t hesitate. Okay?" I dip down a little to come face-to-face with her. She's a short one, with a small frame, yet she's curvy, plump, and gorgeous.

"Thank you," she responds shyly.

With a light touch to her cheek, I leave her to socialize, as is my job here tonight. My club manager is obviously here too, but for events such as this one, I like to show my face as well.

*

Two hours later, I disappear upstairs into my office to calm down for a while. A couple from Los Angeles just finished a scene involving the whipping bench, and when I saw Kayla in the crowd, watching intently, it was almost too difficult for me to remain where I was.

Studying her from afar, I could see what she liked and didn’t during the scene. I saw how her pouty lips pursed when the Daddy Dom pushed his Little onto the rather hard whipping bench and paddled her bottom. I saw how her eyes softened when the Daddy hugged his little one close and whispered in her ear. And I saw how Kayla's chest heaved when the Daddy flipped his girl over onto her back and proceeded to ram his cock into her.

Up here, in my office, I find Kayla easily down on the floor. She's at the bar again, ordering another soda, and it seems like she's looking for someone. Seeing as she's new in town, I can only hope it's me she's in search of, which causes something feral inside of me to flare and come back to life. But I'm already balancing on the proverbial line, one that cannot be crossed. Look, but don’t touch. That’s my rule.

Always…one or two steps from caving. Goddammit.

Sighing heavily, I walk away from the large window and end up pacing the hardwood floor in front of my desk. I try to minimize everything that’s happened so far this evening. My reason for being drawn to Kayla stems from the desires we share, and of course, physical attraction. She's indescribably beautiful.

In the grand scheme of things, though, mere attraction isn't much to go on. Far from it. I know virtually nothing about her, so my wish to possess and claim must have something to do with the fact that I haven't been in a D/s relationship in a long time. Vanilla sex, while pleasurable, isn't enough. That’s why I come here—to get my fill.

It's… It's not enough anymore, is it?

I slump down in my desk chair. Elbows on the desktop, I run my hands through my hair and tug at the ends. I'm about to begin a new internal rant when a knock on the door interrupts.

"Mr. Ford, it's Kevin," my club manager says, and I tell him to enter. However, it's not only Kevin. Jesus Christ, it's Kayla, too. "Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Brandon insisted on seeing you."

Of course she did, I think wryly. How else will she plague my thoughts? "That’s quite all right," I half-lie and wave her in. "You're excused, Kevin." Again, if I were smart, I would've told him to remain. Alas, he's already gone. "Kayla. What can I do for you?"

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, either uncomfortable or nervous. Maybe a combination of both. "Um, I was wondering if you had any painkillers or something," she mumbles, chewing on her lip. I frown, now concerned. "I have a headache, and…" She lets out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you—"

I cut her off with a firm yet gentle tone. "Have a seat, honey." I point to the couches by the window. In the mini fridge under my desk, I grab a bottle of water, and in my top drawer, I locate a bottle of Tylenol.

"I'm sorry." She needs to stop apologizing. "I guess I should've slept more than two hours after my flight." Her smile is rueful.

"You need your eight hours, Kayla," I chastise and sit down next to her on the couch. "Here, take two." I hand her the pills and the water. "So, let me get this straight. After countless hours on flights, you come to San Francisco, check in to a hotel…?" She nods. "And then you only sleep two hours before coming to my club." I give her a disapproving look.

"Yeah," she says sheepishly. "But my friend told me about the event tonight. I wanted to be here."

"Have you at least eaten?" I arch a brow, annoyed and more than a little bit worried. Thankfully, she nods and tells me about going to a restaurant before coming here. She really does appear to be in pain, so I urge her to lean back and close her eyes for a bit. I bet the music downstairs hasn't been much of a help to her. I'm glad she came up here, to be honest. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Eyes still closed, she smiles softly and shakes her head. "No, thank you." She hums as I drape a blanket over her. "I just need a moment for the Tylenol to kick in. Then I'll be on my way."

I frown at that, wanting her to stick around but knowing that'd be stupid. Too tempting. I'm already thinking thoughts I should be ashamed of. For instance, I know very well what could release some tension and help with her headache—something much more pleasurable than painkillers.

"Mr. Ford?"

"Hmm?" I look down at her, only to be met by another shy expression. "What is it, sweet girl?" I brush a piece of hair away from her face.

"Do you, um…" She pulls the blanket up to hide her face, only her eyes visible. "Do you have a Little Girl of your own?"

I chuckle. "Do you really think I'd be up here with you if I did?" Then I sober, knowing that while I don’t have a sub, I certainly have a girlfriend, and I'm still here with Kayla. I clear my throat and slide away from her. At the same time, the blanket slips down to her chest. "There is someone else," I admit and scrub a hand over my face. "I'm in a vanilla relationship."

"Oh." Fuck me if she doesn’t pout. "Lucky woman." She offers a small smile. "I should probably go." I don’t think; I just do. When she makes a move to get up, I gently push her back. I will kick my ass tomorrow, but now…I can't resist any longer. "What?" She looks to me, confused.

I swallow, my mouth too dry. Look, but don’t touch. "Stay," I command quietly. I can feel myself slipping into a role I've suppressed for so long. "How's your head?"

She shrugs and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

"I can't touch you," I murmur. "But I can help."

My mind begins to spin, and the first thing I do is look inside of myself for guilt. It's there, I suppose, but not enough to stop me.

"How?" Her pupils dilate.

The smirk on my face tells her all she needs to know, and my cock hardens at the sight of her expression. Judging by her face, her breathing, and her posture, I'd say she's more than a little aroused.

"Will you let me help you?" I ask softly and place an arm on the back of the couch. With my free hand, I pull away the blanket and drop it on the floor.

Kayla doesn’t reply verbally, but she does nod—quite furiously.

"That's a response from a needy little girl." I smile and inch closer. "Are you in such desperate need of an orgasm that cat got your tongue?" Looking down, I have the perfect view of her tits, all pushed together in her light yellow dress. Her pigtails linger down her chest in loose curls, and I can't stop myself from twirling a lock between my fingers, which causes them to brush against her cleavage. "Tell me—" I notice her shiver when I exhale into her neck "—when you're alone and needy, do you fantasize about a big cock destroying your pretty little pussy?" Her breathing hitches, a flush spreading over her lovely cheeks. "Or maybe pushing inside your tight bottom?"

Dropping my hand, I wrap my fingers around her wrists and keep them in her lap.

"Yes," she whimpers and rubs her thighs together. "Yes, yes, yes." She licks her lips, another word on the tip of her tongue. I can feel it in my gut.

I want her to scream for me, call me Daddy—if only to let me have this one moment—beg for more when I fuck her silly. I want her to be desperate. I want her to suck on my cock like it's her pacifier.

She represents the life I'm caving to.

"What kind of panties are you wearing?"

She lets out a breathy moan. "White cotton."

I hum and release her hands. "Don't move." Bunching up her dress, I finally get a look between her thighs. I tsk her. "Look at that wet spot. Your little kitty has ruined those pretty panties." I shake my head at her, to which she squirms and whimpers again.

"Please," she begs. "I-I need…"

Oh, I need too. I need her pussy riding my hard cock.

"You little baby slut." Slipping off the couch, I kneel before her on the floor and push her legs apart. Fuck, she's so wet. When her eyes widen, I know she's seen my cock straining in my pants. I chuckle. "You're easy to read, little one."

"I want you," she whines.

I want her too, but we can't have everything in the world. Lines have already been crossed, and there's no going back for me, but…I won't touch her anymore. I won't touch her intimately while I'm officially unavailable.

"Slide your panties down for me," I order her softly. I wet my bottom lip, watching as she obeys without a moment of hesitation, and then I'm granted the sight of her flawless pussy. Bare and so smooth. Her folds glisten with her arousal in the dim light; her fingers twitch, itching to touch. "How is it that you don’t have a Daddy to take care of you, Kayla?" This girl needs someone—someone to make sure she gets her eight hours of sleep, proper meals, plenty of attention, a firm hand when she misbehaves, affection, and a thick cock to fuck her into oblivion.

"I haven't found anyone in a long time." She pouts.

I know how she feels. "And now your kitty's all needy and achy?" I trace a finger up her thigh, stopping before I want to.

"Yes." Her eyes shine with emotion.

"Oh, sweet girl." I wish I could tell her I'll be the one to look after her from now on. "Do you want us to stop?"

"No! Please, please, please." Her bottom lip trembles. "I need this—please."

I nod, both resigned and elated. It's become abundantly clear to me that I can't leave this lifestyle behind. I surrender. And it feels so fucking good. Though, it will feel better once I've ended things with Amanda.

"Touch yourself." There's no masking the lust in my voice. "Rub that little clit and let me watch."

"Oh God," she moans and slips a hand between her legs. "I'm so wet."

"I can see that," I grunt and palm my erection outside my pants. Two of her fingers slide between her slippery lips, gathering arousal which she brings to her clit. I groan under my breath, staring hungrily as she touches, rubs, and circles. "Push two fingers inside. Right now. And spread your lips."

She does as I've said, and it's all I can take. When I see her two fingers slip inside her slick pussy, I undo my belt and push down my pants. My black boxers, too. My grip on my cock is hard, rough, and Kayla cries out at the sight and starts to fuck herself with her fingers.

"You're a filthy fucking girl," I accuse huskily. "There's only one type of person who can fix that, isn't there?"

"Yes," she pleads, watching as I stroke myself. "A Daddy. His cock—I'd be a good girl. I just need—" She stops abruptly and squeezes her eyes shut; it looks like she's close already.

"You can't come yet." I forbid it. I want to savor this. "Tell me, where do you want Daddy's cock?"

"In my kitty," she whines and rubs her clit furiously. "Or in my bottom. Or in my mouth, mmm… Lots and lots, all the time."

I chuckle darkly. "Cock slut." Using the pad of my thumb, I spread out the bead of arousal on the tip of my cock. I moan and tighten my grip, imagining how it would be to bury myself in her pussy, ass, and mouth. "You must be a good girl to get that much cock."

"I am," she vows. "I'm a really good girl."

"Then show Daddy your tits." I nod at her dress, realizing a second too late that I referred myself as the Daddy. That’s not good, and I curse myself. It's not a title I throw around casually. So why won't I take it back? "Push it down."

"Okay." She quickly shoves down the front of her dress, exposing her two perfect breasts. They're more than a handful, yet still perky. "Do you like them?"

I doubt she knows how much her innocence is turning me on. "You have no idea," I mutter, a bit out of breath. "You're gorgeous, Kayla. Now, lick off your fingers before touching your kitty again."

My abs tense and the muscles in my neck strain as I watch her suck on her fingers. She lets out a small giggle, causing my cock to grow impossibly harder. Then she settles back against the couch again, feet up, legs spread wide, and returns to circling her clit. Every now and then, some of her juices trickle out of her tight entrance. Since I'm so close, I can also see how her opening contracts, as if it needs something to squeeze—like my cock, fingers, or tongue.

"Fuck," I spit out and jerk my cock faster.

"Are you close? I wanna come so bad." She throws her head back, pushes out her tits, and moans. "If you want—" she pants "—if you want, you can come on me. I swear, my kitty likes it."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I groan and close my eyes. It's easy to tell she's deep into her role—a role she can't deny, a role I'm already craving, a role that brings out my inner beast. A role that isn't really a role at all. The pleasure builds quickly, almost too quickly. I won't last much longer. Reaching down, I use my free hand to cup and massage my balls.

Her whimper sets me off, shaking me to my core. "Daddy…"

"I'm there—close." My eyes flash open as "close" becomes "now," and I start coming. I pump my cock roughly, stream after stream landing over her hand, pussy, and thighs. It feels like my entire being uncoils, months of stifling and suppressing finally unleashing.

Kayla moans and writhes, spreading my release all over her pussy, and she's close too, fucking herself deeper and faster. "Daddy," she cries out. "May I—may I please come?"

I tell her she may. Through heavy breathing and husky murmurs, I tell her to be a good girl and come for Daddy. I tell her how perfect her pussy looks with my come on it, and I whisper, as she climaxes with a silent scream, that I want nothing more than to feel her orgasming around my cock.

"Oh, yes!" she wails. "So good, so good, so good…"

Coming back down from her high, she pants and gasps and chants how good it felt. She truly is like a little girl, and had I been in my teens, I probably would've been ready for another round by now.

"You know how we feel about wasting come, don’t you?" I can only hope she does, really. Every Daddy Dom has his own set of rules, and I have no idea what kinds Kayla has been with.

With me, though, she would lick that up.

"Of course, Daddy," she giggles in delight. "That’s a silly question."

She shouldn’t be calling me that.

I shouldn’t have taken things this far. A rock settles in my stomach, yet it doesn’t stop me from smiling at her.

She runs a finger over her pussy and brings it to her mouth. Jesus, she's one alluring little girl.

Now that we've both been temporarily satisfied, I'm disappointed it's over. Had she been mine, this would've been only the beginning. Perhaps we would have showered together. I'd wash her; I'd allow my hands to wander freely and make sure her pretty pussy and cute bottom were very clean. I'd own my little one. I'd fall asleep with her in my bed.

She would suckle my soft cock, because little girls always need something in their mouths.

"Good girl," I whisper, tucking myself back into my boxers and pants.

Kayla grins around her finger and hums.

It's an image I will never forget.

"Kayla," I start quietly, "may I ask how old you are?"

"Twenty-two," she sings, sticking another finger in her mouth.

Truth be told, her youth turns me on like nothing else.

"Mmm, this is so good." Her smile is sweeter than sugar as she offers me a come-coated finger. "Wanna taste?"

I do. I really fucking do want to taste the combination of us, but I can't. I'm already guilt-ridden because of what I've done. Not only have I betrayed Amanda, but I haven't been fair to Kayla; she deserves someone who can commit fully to her.

There may still be a few lines left uncrossed, though I've done enough. I caved—plain and simple.

"Hopefully another time," I murmur and sit down next to her on the couch. "I mean that, honey." Once I've ended what I never should've started.

"You do?" She's back to being shy, but I can see the hope in her eyes.

I nod and help adjust her dress, for once being a gentleman. "If you decide to stick around San Francisco—"

She cuts me off, beaming like the sun. "I've already decided!" She nods furiously. "I'm going to stay; I promise. But—" she bites down on her lip, her face falling "—what about your relationship? The last thing I want is to cause problems…" She averts her eyes and lowers her voice to a whisper. "I feel bad. I'm sorry, Mr. Ford." In fact, she looks crestfallen. "Oh, God. I'm awful—"

I shake my head, and I don’t want another word from her—not if she's going to say such things. "This is on me. I've made some mistakes that I need to handle, but I want to see you again."

Because maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a one-time thing.

Perhaps she could be more than the face and body of a lifestyle I've denied for too long.

Perhaps this indescribable chemistry between us means something.

Chapter 3

The next day when I arrive at the church where Amber is getting married, I'm met by a frosty Amanda. Not only does she know I want to talk to her, but I'm fairly certain she knows what it's about, too.

When I got home last night, she'd already gone to bed. So, I approached her this morning instead, though as soon as the clichéd "We need to talk" escaped my mouth, she insistently bit out that it could wait until after tonight. She was already being testy, having found me asleep in the guest room instead of next to her in bed, and that’s another reason I'm sure she knows what I want to say.

I'm not trying to be insensitive by ending things with her on her sister's wedding day; it's just the opposite. Why go through an entire day where I'm introduced to her family as the boyfriend when it's over? Yet, after several tries to get her to listen to me, I didn’t get far. She shot me down each time, and then she left.

"Hello." I stick my hands into the pockets of my black dress pants. It's a warm June day, so I left my suit jacket in the car. "You look nice." As the maid of honor, she's wearing a deep green dress, a few inches longer than the four bridesmaids' dresses. Her hair is up in an elaborate do, and she's holding a small bouquet of white roses.

"Thanks," she mutters as I adjust my black tie. "I take it you can find your seat? You're in the second row."

I nod and take the hint. She's obviously still mad at me, but now that we're here, I'd rather not ruin the day more for her. "I'll see you inside." That said, I walk in, and I'm a stranger so far, which explains why I can walk down the aisle without anyone stopping me. Some smile and nod in greeting, but that’s it.

I suppose a few wonder who I'm here with, and I can't help but think how easy it would be to crash a wedding, especially one this big. I recall Amanda telling me approximately three hundred people were attending.

By the time it's three o'clock, the pews have been filled with guests, and the bells ring before the traditional wedding march begins. The four bridesmaids and then Amanda walk down the aisle to take their places at the front. Brian, Amber's fiancé, is a man I think Amanda wishes I were more like. He wants the white picket fence, the dog, the minivan, and the 2.5 children. Amanda never shies away from talking about all the things Brian does for Amber.

The ceremony is over pretty quickly, and then we all pile into our cars and drive over to the hotel where the reception is. The wedding party will arrive separately in two limos, so I wait outside the hotel for Amanda to show up. In the meantime, a few guests approach me and ask if I'm the man Amanda has spoken so highly of. That makes me cringe inwardly; I had no idea Amanda's been talking about me to her extended family. Parents and siblings—I get that, but aunts and grandparents? I sigh to myself and struggle to keep the polite smile on my face.

More guests trickle in. I remain outside, standing a little to the side with all the smokers.

"Mr. Ford?"

Shocked to hear that voice, my head snaps to the left so fast that it almost hurts. Fucking hell. It's Kayla. Kayla, whose number I now have in my phone. I wasn’t supposed to see her again until I was officially unattached. Now, not only is she here, but she's dressed to the nines—as if she's a guest at a certain wedding. Her dress reminds me of the white one Marilyn Monroe wore, though this one is silky and dark blue.

I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved, though she's incredibly gorgeous as always. Her auburn hair is down, pigtails only a memory. The wispy curls tease me by resting on her chest. Meeting her gaze again, I see that she's equally shocked to see me here.

"Kayla," I say quietly, taking a step closer. I definitely don’t want people to hear us. "What are you doing here? Are you a guest? I didn’t see you at the church." Then again, I arrived early and I was sitting in the front. She could've gotten there later, and amongst hundreds of people… Never mind.

"Wait…" Her eyes widen like she's figured something out. "Your girlfriend… Are you the Nick my cousin's been bragging about? Amanda Stevens?" She looks at me in disbelief; meanwhile, I pinch the bridge of my nose and curse internally at this turn of events. They're related, for fuck's sake. "Oh, my God," she whispers shakily, "your girlfriend is my cousin. I can't believe this."

Neither can I, but when I see two limos pulling up to the curb, I know this isn't the time to dwell on that.

"We'll talk about this later, all right?" I look over Kayla's shoulder as the wedding party exits the cars.

"Hang on." She grasps my arm and gives me a pleading look. "You haven't spoken to her yet, have you?" My brows furrow. "You can't. Don’t—" she shakes her head quickly and purses her lips "—don’t break up with her."

I nearly choke on saliva. "Excuse me?"

She blows out a frustrated breath and looks behind her before facing me again. "She hates me. If you end things with her, and I'm the reason…" A dark, shaky chuckle escapes her. "I'm already the black sheep of the family." At my confused expression, she goes on. "Long story short: my mom and dad died when I was thirteen; Amanda and Amber's parents took me in. From the start, those two loathed me. I-I can't get into all that now, but let's just say I wasn’t the perfect little girl—I didn’t fit into their family."

I arch a brow, finding the irony a bit entertaining, no matter how ill-timed it is. Perfect little girl. To me, that’s exactly what she is.

"I only see them a couple times a year, at reunions." She actually looks close to panic. "I didn’t even want to be here today, but Aunt Mary insisted." She's referring to Amanda's mother. "I'm lucky I got out of the rehearsal dinner, really." Now she's rambling like she did yesterday, something I find incredibly endearing. Though, it's time to cut her off. Amanda has already spotted us.

"Quiet, sweet girl," I urge her softly. "Amanda's coming over." And she doesn’t look happy.

Kayla stiffens but manages to plaster a smile on her face as that almost ex-girlfriend of mine reaches us.

"I see you've already met my Nick," Amanda drawls and slips her arm around my waist. Her other hand slides up my chest, which I can't say I appreciate. "Long time no see, Drifter." She smirks condescendingly, causing me to frown. I have never seen an ounce of maliciousness in her before today. "I'm surprised you made it."

Next to Amanda, Kayla suddenly appears to be tiny—so much shorter than she already is. This isn't the type of vulnerability I like. Kayla is honestly intimidated by her cousin.

"Hello, Amanda," she mumbles, wringing her hands awkwardly. "It was a beautiful wedding."

"I know," Amanda sighs. Then she faces me with a bright smile. "How about we go inside, handsome? I want to have a drink with you before we split up again." Right. We're not at the same table. She's seated with the wedding party, and I will be a couple tables away with the other bridesmaids' and groomsmen's spouses. "Oh, and I must introduce you to my parents. They're dying to meet you."

Before I can get a word in edgewise, she's already dragging me along. I do manage to send Kayla a pointed look that says this isn't over, and then I pull away from Amanda a little and follow her into what can only be described as a ballroom. It's straight out of an overblown fairy tale with billowy fabrics, chandeliers, and a pompous interior in gold, beige, and white. Round tables are scattered around the dance floor, the finest china and silverware practically sparkling on expensive-looking cloths.

"Why do you insist on this?" I grit out quietly as we walk across the floor. Straight ahead, I can see an older couple, and judging by the way Amanda looks at them, I'd say they're her parents. "You know exactly what I want to talk to you about."

"Stop it," she hisses. "Don’t make me look like a fool tonight." She glares at me, our pace slowing until we come to a complete stop in the middle of the dance floor. "My entire family is here, Nick. I don’t see them very often. Now my sister's married; she's successful, and—"

"You think by coming here alone…it would paint you as a failure? You're unbelievable." I'm fucking shocked, truth be told. While I've noticed that Amanda is a competitive woman, this goes beyond that. I'm merely here so she can look good in front of her family. "This is why you've pushed, isn't it? Why you've been so insistent that we move in together. More for you to tell your parents."

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "You're going too far. We love each oth—"

"Don’t finish that sentence," I seethe.

It feels entirely wrong to speak about love when it comes to us. The past four months don’t just disappear; we definitely shared something good in the beginning. She even made me feel better than I did before her. But I'm finally able to see that’s the extent of it. We've both been so into this for the wrong reasons; we've used each other. I can't deny what I really want, and Amanda…well, I actually don’t have a fucking clue. Maybe she's only after success—more milestones to tick off. Me, on the other hand? I want to see if there can be more with Kayla.

"Introduce me as whatever you want," I tell her, shaking my head, "but once this night is over, so are we."

"Don’t overreact," she beseeches and grasps my forearms. "We're good together, Nick."

At this point, I don’t think it matters what I say. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—we're interrupted. By her parents.

"Mom! Dad!" Amanda's bright smile is back, and she proceeds to introduce me as her boyfriend. In turn, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens say it's a pleasure to meet me after hearing so many stories. I'd be freaked out about how animated Amanda gets when she speaks—how terrific of an actress she is—had I not been too disappointed in us both. Because I find it a bit disheartening how easy it is to let her go.

Shouldn’t it be harder? Or does the possibility of returning to the lifestyle I've craved—perhaps with Kayla—mean that much, when it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we met? That puts things into a new perspective, and we, Amanda and I, obviously haven't been worth much as a couple.

*

The dinner is in full swing when I leave my seat and walk over to Table Nine across the room. It's where Kayla is sitting, and for the past half hour, she's looked positively miserable. I've tried to catch her gaze, but she hasn't looked my way even once, and I want to reassure her—protect her.

Reaching her table, I dip down and murmur in her ear. "Come with me." I've startled her, and when she finally looks up, she appears nervous and unsure.

Wedding guests all around us are busy being cheery in their festive mood; no one turns their head as I take the lead. Yet, I can practically feel someone staring a hole in the back of my neck, and it's not Kayla. But I don’t look back.

"Where are we going?" Kayla asks behind me, following at my quick pace. "She's going to notice you're gone, Nicholas." That’s the first time I've heard her say my name. I like it. Correction: I love it. However, I want something else right now. "Are you gonna answer me?"

I smile and round a corner; she keeps up. "Someplace private."

I hear the breath she releases.

Doubting we can find privacy on the first floor, I head toward the elevators in the lobby. It's when I press the button that I realize how tightly wound I am. My back feels rigid, my shoulders are stiff, my neck is strained, my jaw is clenched, and my hands are balled into fists. I'm all over the place, overwhelmed by thoughts that have been swimming in my head since yesterday.

The elevator to my right dings, followed by the doors sliding open, and I quickly usher Kayla inside.

Classical music plays in the car, though it does nothing to calm the storm raging in me.

Kayla looks up at me, apprehension clouding her features. I take a step toward her after pushing the button for the top floor. She bites down on her lip. I swallow hard. Another step. My eyes drink her in. She backs into a corner. I stalk her like she's my prey. Christ, I fucking want her.

"Nicholas?" she whispers, eyes wide.

I shake my head slowly. No. Not this time. There's another name I need right now.

She gulps as I reach her. "D-Daddy?" Her voice is so small, so vulnerable, so fucking sweet.

"That's the one," I murmur and dip down to nuzzle her soft cheek. While one hand slides back to cup her ass, my other ghosts across her stomach, up her tits, over her chest, until I hold her jaw in a firm grip. "Fuck, you smell good." I breathe her in, and her sweet scent works to calm me down, if only marginally. "I've been aching to touch you."

She whimpers and fists my shirt.

"Do you want Daddy to touch you?" I ask softly, nipping at her earlobe. "So much to get lost in." My voice has lowered to a whisper. "This ass," I hiss and palm her ass roughly.

She moans.

"Daddy wants to fuck you." For emphasis, I pull her closer so she can feel my cock against her stomach.

"But," she breathes out.

I shake my head just as the elevator comes to a stop. "No buts." Taking a step back, I regard her face. "Unless you don’t want—"

"You know I do." Her chest heaves, lust evident in her eyes. "But what about…?"

"It's being handled." Grabbing her hand, I guide her out of the elevator, and then we walk briskly down the hall. Anybody could be leaving their rooms at any point, and I don’t give a flying fuck. There's a small nook between two rooms where an ice machine is, and that’s where I press Kayla up against a wall. There's no waiting. No hesitation. I crash my mouth to hers and swallow her gasp.

Tilting my head, I kiss her deeply as I reach down and grab on to the backs of her thighs. I groan as she hitches both legs around my hips instinctively. In response, I grind my cock against her pussy.

She giggles breathlessly, a sound that makes me shudder in pleasure. I notice it in her movements, in her expression, and in her sounds; she's slipping into character, though that particular word rings wrong. It's not a damn character. It's who she is. And I'm…

"Daddy." That giggle will be the death of me. "There's something hard poking me in my tummy."

I freeze.

Breathing heavily, I stare into her eyes, my own eyes hooded and ready to devour, and it's like my mind resets.

No, definitely not a character—for either of us. We're letting go, that’s all.

We have so much to talk about.

"I want to try…" I whisper. "This—you and me. See if there's more."

She smiles. "So do I."

I nod, thinking about the things we need to discuss before we take this any further. "Then, let's do it right."

She's confused, I can tell, but she won't be for long. I need her to know she can trust me, that I will take care of her properly, and that she can depend on me. All of that will take time, and I can't even begin to be that person right here. Not in a hotel corridor, and not with a wedding reception going on fifteen floors below.

Reluctantly, I lower her to her feet. "Come home with me," I request and kiss her softly. "I want to play with you. Start getting to know you."

Her smile is tender. "I want that. But—" that smile morphs into something salacious and mischievous "—I want to take care of you, too." Deft little fingers work my belt and pants. I'm once again frozen in place. "Pretty please, Daddy?" She bats her lashes and sinks to the floor, at the same time pushing down my pants and boxers.

Fuck me. I groan internally and scrub my hands over my face. "Right here? Now?" Public sex is a major turn-on, but a bit more is at stake here. We haven't established anything yet; everything is up in the air.

"I want it." Ah, the pout.

With a shake of my head, I chuckle and tap her jaw. "Fine. Open up." She does, and I grip my cock, smearing the bead of arousal over her upper lip. "Lick that off." And she does it slowly, my naughty little baby. Placing one hand on the wall right behind her, I brace myself and swiftly push my cock deep. She gags a few times, to which I murmur sweet nothings about how good it feels. In the end, she relaxes completely and swallows. "Just. Like. That." Good fucking God.

My free hand goes to the back of her head before I begin to thrust in and out of her hot little mouth. She soaks me in saliva and makes cute yummy noises, and I discover she's a suckler. When I slowly pull out, she suckles the head of my cock as if she's desperate for my come to reach her taste buds.

"Greedy," I moan, letting my head loll back. My hips push forward, and she swallows repeatedly before I pull back again.

Threading my fingers through her silky hair, I control our movements and focus solely on my own pleasure. I savor, revel…feel how her tongue flicks, luscious lips tighten, throat constricts, and teeth graze. She's so eager to please. One hand cups my balls, altering between caressing and massaging. The other slides up and down the backside of my thigh, nails scraping gently, teasingly, against my skin.

"You like to suck cock, don’t you?" I ask quietly, my chin almost dropping to my chest. My brows are furrowed in concentration; there's no movement, expression, or sound I want to miss. I grit out a moan when she bobs her head in an eager little nod. A whisper of a smile plays on her mouth, but Daddy's cock is in the way. "God…look at you." I move my hand from the back of her head to her face. As I give a particularly hard push into her mouth, my thumb ghosts over her wet bottom lip. She hollows out her cheeks and sucks me perfectly, and I trace the indentations with another finger. "Such a beautiful little cocksucker."

In the background, I hear the ding of an elevator arriving.

I don’t stop fucking Kayla's mouth.

She doesn’t stop sucking me.

"Good girl," I whisper down to her.

As someone passes the nook we're in, I keep my gaze locked with Kayla's. It's an unbreakable bond. Eyes smoldering as my glistening cock keeps moving in and out of her. The gasp followed by the rapid clicking of heels we hear doesn’t faze us, either. We know it's not a wedding guest; fifteen floors take longer to search through than this. And we don’t give a shit about the rest.

"I'll give you my come soon, baby." I keep whispering and caressing her face. My strokes slow down, yet I go deeper. The ridges of my erection look like shiny trails, and when her teeth graze over me, it feels too fucking good.

Too fucking good, too fucking good.

I close my eyes and clench my teeth together; my jaw tightens. "Now, Kayla." Speeding up, I fuck her perfect mouth faster and faster as the orgasm takes over. Down her throat, my cock throbs with each stream of come. One, two, three…and a fourth slides down, each sucked out by the sensation of her throat muscles contracting around me. Shudders rip through my body—another moan here and there. And Kayla, the good girl that she is, licks me clean like a cute little kitten.

The club… I can't wait to go back there with her by my side.

"Thank you, Daddy," she says sweetly as I try to regain my breath. I don’t move, still bracing myself against the wall, when she tucks me back into my boxers, my pants, and lastly fastens my leather belt again. "I really needed that." She finishes with that giggle of hers, and I help her off the floor, a small grin on my face.

"Adorable," I murmur and kiss her softly on the lips. "Ready to go back to my place now?"

"Mmm, yes." She hums and snuggles into my chest.

Chapter 4

Not wanting any distractions around, such as hair products and blow-dryers that don't belong to me, I take Kayla to my guest bathroom instead of the master bath. The Jacuzzi is slightly smaller in here, but that works just fine.

On the way to my apartment, we discussed safety, limits, and immediate plans, no longer caring about what we left behind. Our meeting has been…less than ordinary, and there will be ramifications with her family if she and I end up dating—which I find myself hoping for—but we don't want to rush. What we want is to give this an honest chance, and we'll enter our little relationship with eyes and minds open.

I can no longer believe she's nothing but a representation of a fetish. The chemistry between us is undeniable; she can floor me with a look, and drawing out my need to care and dominate so strongly takes more than mere desire.

"Are you ready, darling?"

We'll begin with the sweetest introduction, in my opinion—one where we'll get to know more about each other. It's my way of letting my Little Girl know what kind of Daddy I am, and when I told Kayla about it earlier in the car, she was definitely turned on.


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