“Okay,” he agrees easily.
I swallow and straighten my silverware, just to have something to do with all of this excited energy suddenly coursing through me. “Okay,” I echo, sitting up a little straighter.
Our food is delivered, which gives me some time to process everything that just happened while the two of us take our first few bites. I don’t have the first clue what’s on my plate, but it tastes like heaven. I chew slowly, trying like hell to organize my thoughts and sort out if this is all real or if I’m about to wake up in my own bed to realize Barrett never existed in the first place.
“There is one thing you should know before you agree to come with me though,” he warns, and all of my excitement dies down in a snap. Here comes the catch. I brace for his next words, pretty sure they ain’t gonna be something I want to hear. “Have you ever heard of Daddy kink?”
I blink at him, trying to make sense of the words and coming up short. It only takes a second for me to panic that he might be about to confess to me that he’s my own danged father who left when I was born. The math don’t make sense since he told me yesterday he’s thirty-six, which makes him only eleven years older than me. But my panicking brain ain’t too worried about that logic.
“I swear on my gran’s grave, you’d better not be about to tell me you’re my worthless daddy.”
Barrett lets out a startled laugh and then shakes his head. “No, definitely not that,” he assures me, and I let out a relieved breath. “It’s more of a…a lifestyle I guess would be the right word.”
“A lifestyle?” I repeat.
“Sterling.” The way he says my name feels oddly like a caress. I like it more than I should. “When I date, I don’t have boyfriends; I have boys. I like to take care of my partners in every way I can, in every way they need me to, and I like it when they call me Daddy.”
“How do you take care of them?” I ask, my stomach dancing with nervous excitement. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but maybe whatever he’s into doesn’t sound too bad. It certainly puts a new spin on the charitable way he’s been acting.
“It depends on the boy and what they need. I love buying them nice things, picking out their clothes…spankings when necessary.”
Heat rushes through my body like a wildfire, and I lean forward without even meaning to. “Spankings?”
Barrett
That got his attention.
“Yes,” I answer, leaning forward to match Sterling’s body language. “For pleasure or for punishment, depending on the circumstances.”
“Punishment?” he repeats, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his meal all but forgotten.
“Oh yes. I can’t very well take care of a boy without giving him rules. And what good are rules if there are no punishments for breaking them?” I explain, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate and his cheeks turn rosy. Is his cock hard thinking about my hand reddening his ass? Mine certainly is.
“What kinds of rules?” he asks.
“Again, it depends on the boy. It’s something we could discuss, assuming you’re interested in this sort of arrangement?”
He sits back, dropping his attention to his plate, but not taking another bite of food. “It sounds…” he trails off, squirming in his seat. I wait for him to finish the sentence until it becomes clear he’s going to need a little more help.
“How about this, you take some time to think about it. If you decide you’re still interested in coming home with me, then we can start slowly. I want you to do some research of your own. And, most importantly, I want you to understand that in a dynamic like I’m describing, I might be your Daddy, but you’d be the one truly in charge.”
He cocks his head, trying to understand what I’m saying. I don’t blame him. It’s what most people miss about any type of dominant/submissive relationship. “How?” he asks.
“I told you: I’m a caretaker, Pretty Boy. Nothing turns me on or makes me happier than knowing my boy is well cared for and happy. This is all about what you want and need. And you’ll have a safeword, of course, so even if we decide to play a little rough, you’ll still always know you can make it stop at any time.”
A shiver runs through him, his breathing getting faster as he shifts in his seat again.
“Think about it,” I say again, and he nods.
“Okay,” he agrees, sounding a touch breathless, a fresh blush coloring his cheeks before he drops his eyes. I’m dying to know what’s running through his mind right now. If he was my boy, I’d press him to tell me. Maybe a small taste of what it means to belong to me will help in making his decision.
“Be a good boy and tell me what you’re thinking right now.” I let my voice drop into that deep, commanding tenor that never fails to trip submissive tenancies. He reacts exactly how I hoped, blushing and breathing a little heavier, a relaxed expression washing over his face because I’ve told him exactly what he has to do to be my good boy, and he’s probably been desperate for that longer than he realizes.
“I was thinkin’ about…” he pauses to wet his lips, fidgeting with his silverware and then meeting my eyes. “How it would feel to walk around with a sore backside after a spanking, just the two of us knowing about it.”
My cock jerks, and I catch myself leaning forward. “That’s just the start of the ways I’ll make you mine, Pretty Boy,” I promise him. This time he barely winces at the pet name, and I count that as a win. I can only guess at the bad association, but I’m making it my mission to help him reclaim it and erase all of the scars caused by thoughtless, cruel people in his life.
I think I’ve given him enough to think about for one night, so I steer the conversation back into more banal topics for the rest of dinner. Sterling devours everything on his plate with enthusiasm.
“This is so good. The only fish I ever had before was fried,” he says with a chuckle. “Maybe if I’d learned to fish and cook it myself, I coulda been eating somethin’ this good all along.”
“You’d have had a hell of a time catching ahi around here,” I tease, and he chuckles. The sound is so light and airy, it fills me up inside.
“Fair enough, but I coulda caught a catfish. Though, I s’pose that’d be best fried anyhow.”
I make a mental note that if he decides to take me up on my offer and leave with me, I’ll take him fishing on the boat I keep docked in Florida sometime.
When dinner is finished, I lead him back to the car hand in hand, the same way we walked in. He seems more relaxed this time, leaning into me and not bothering to spare a glance at the hostess as we pass.
The drive back takes over an hour, but it still doesn’t feel nearly long enough. I pull into his driveway and turn off the car. Sterling tenses in his seat, darting a nervous glance at me as he grabs the door handle but doesn’t open it.
“Did you…um …you wanna come in?”
I chuckle, reaching over and carding my fingers through his hair to push it back off of his face. “Relax, little rabbit, I’m just walking you to your door.”
“Little rabbit? Thought I was Pretty Boy,” he huffs a little at the nickname.
“You are. But right now you look like a frightened bunny, so I thought it fit.”
He scoffs, his fingers tightening on the door handle, but still not opening it. “I’m not afraid,” he insists. “I should probably get the whole virginity thing out of the way anyhow. You should come in.” He sounds more certain this time at least, but it’s still not going to happen.
Without responding, I unbuckle and climb out of the car. I swear, I hear a nervous little gasp from him before I shut the door behind myself. I chuckle as I make my way around the front of the car to open his door.
His hand trembles slightly in mine as I lead him up the cracked and dusty walkway to his front door. He unlocks the door and looks back at me with surprise when I tug him to a stop before he can step inside.
“It would be an honor to share any of your firsts, Sterling, and once you make your
decision, I fully intend to worship every inch of your body.” His breath catches at my proclamation. “But for tonight, how about we take things slow.”
“Slow?” He swallows hard, tilting his head up enough to meet my eyes.
I nod, stepping close enough to tuck his smaller body against mine, forcing him to tilt his head back even farther. I can feel his wild heart beat against the lower part of my rib cage where his chest presses against me. “Have you ever been kissed, little rabbit?” I ask, stroking my thumb over his bottom lip.
He gives a sharp shake of his head, pressing himself closer and rising up on his tiptoes seemingly unconsciously.
“Tell me you want a kiss, and it’s yours,” I murmur, too mesmerized by his mouth to stop staring at it.
“Please…Daddy.” Sterling bunches the front of my shirt in his fists, wrinkling the fabric and causing one of the buttons to come undone. But all I can hear is the word Daddy falling from his lips.
I groan, my cock hardening against his belly, his own answering arousal pressed against my thigh. Slipping a hand behind his neck, I drag him to me so I can claim his mouth. He lets out a little whimper as our lips meet, his whole body relaxing into mine in an instant. Sterling’s mouth is soft and sweet and pliant, letting me lead the kiss. I coax his lips to part and slip my tongue into the hot depths of his mouth, the moans he feeds me vibrating around my tongue.
As much as I want to sweep him into my arms and carry him inside to continue the kiss, I force myself to pull back. He gasps, tightening his hold on my shirt and popping a few more buttons.
“Go inside, and go to sleep now, Pretty Boy,” I whisper, pressing another, softer kiss to his damp lips. He finally releases his grip on my shirt and sinks down onto the flat of his feet. I reach into my pocket and pull out a business card that has my cell number on it. “And when you make up your mind, you can call or text me. I’ll give you space for a couple of days to make a decision, but call me any time.”
He nods, looking a bit dazed as he clutches the card against his chest like it’s a winning lottery ticket. I wait as he heads inside, tossing me looks over his shoulder until the door is closed between us. And then I wait a little longer, tracking his movements through the house by which light comes on before I finally manage to tear myself away and walk back to my car, the taste of his sweet little sounds still dancing on my lips and the feeling of his body against mine making my arms ache to hold him again.
Soon, I promise myself. Soon.
Chapter 7
Sterling
Barrett told me to do my own research before making a decision, which is exactly what I spend the next morning doing. In fact, I do so much research that my dick is all but rubbed raw before noon. The question of whether calling the man Daddy in bed would turn me on seems to be a resounding yes. Heck, the way the word felt rolling off my tongue right before our kiss last night cleared that up pretty quick.
Unfortunately, porn can only answer so many questions for me, and everything else seems like a bit of a minefield. I did a search for Daddy kink and got a lotta results, but they said all kinds of different stuff. Some talked about diapers and acting like a baby or little kid, which doesn’t hold much appeal for me. One thing that seems to keep coming up on almost every site I visit is communication. I guess that makes sense. It’s probably a good rule for any relationship when you get right down to it. But, I’m not sure how that will help me decide what I want.
Well, except, I kinda already know what I want. The research was because Barrett told me to, but my heart knew the answer right after he asked the question. Heck yeah, it’s prob’ly crazy to follow a near stranger to a whole other state, but what’ve I got to lose? And as for all that kinky stuff he talked about last night, I’m more than up for giving it a try.
I guess all that’s left is tying up all my loose ends. I log off the ancient computer settled on the desk in the corner of my room and head into the bathroom so I can take a quick shower to wash off all the evidence of my ahem “research”.
I toss my dirty clothes in the hamper while the shower heats up and then stand in front of the mirror. For a change, I don’t avoid my reflection. No, instead I look right at it, ignoring the squirming, uncomfortable feeling in my gut. I tilt my face to one side so I can see my birthmark head on, various patches of dark pink and light purple extending from above my eyebrow down to the bottom of my cheek, and from the bridge of my nose to my temple. I flinch internally at the sight of it. When I was little, I used to stand in front of this same sink, crying and scrubbing my face, praying as hard as I could that it would wash away so I could be normal. I close my eyes against the burning of tears that are threatening to break free. Dragging in a deep breath, I steel myself and look again, determined to find an answer to why a man like Barrett could possibly want someone like me.
The mirror fogs up from the steam of the shower before I manage to find my answer, so I give up and push back the ratty, mildew-covered curtain and slip under the hot spray of water. Maybe it don’t matter why he’s interested in me. However long he wants me is more than I ever woulda dared to hope for.
Once I’m finished showering, I wrap a towel around my waist and go back into my bedroom. Standing, dripping wet, I look around the small room and wait to feel something. This could be the last time I’ll see this bedroom, I should miss it or something, shouldn’t I? But I have a hard time feeling anything but impatience to pack up my stuff and get out. I don’t have a fancy suitcase or nothing. I never been anywhere, so it would be a silly thing for me to have. Instead, I stuff as many clothes as I can into paper grocery bags, leaving out one set of things to wear today.
With my clothes packed, the only thing that’s left to do here is to leave a note for my mama, in case she ever comes back. I s’pose I should call the landlord too. Dang though, what about all the furniture and stuff? Plus, what if mama does come back? Should I find a way to keep paying for this place just in case? Maybe Barrett will know what to do about it. I file that problem away for later and grab a piece of paper and pencil.
The kitchen chair scrapes against the linoleum floor when I pull it out so I can sit down. I never been all that good with words. You’d think I’d be an expert at writing a goodbye note since I’ve been left so many times in my life. Except gran never left me any kinda note and neither did my daddy. Mama left a lot of notes, but they all said the same thing. I guess if it’s good enough for me, it’ll be good enough for her.
I stop tapping my pencil against the table and get to writing.
Mama,
I met a man. He says he can give me a better life. Not sure I believe him, but I figure anything is better than Billow.
Love,
Sterling
P.S. Here’s his number if you need to reach me
I add Barrett’s number to the bottom of the letter and read it over. It’s pretty short, but it gets the message across. She don’t wanna read anything flowery from me anyway, so it’ll do.
I leave the note pinned to the fridge and gather up my bags. The next part is bound to be harder than this first part. I look around as I walk down the road toward the bar. In a way, it feels like I’m seeing this town in a new light. What’ll Vegas be like? No chance of seeing Mr. Murphy’s old cow wandering loose anywhere after knocking down her flimsy fence again, no pies cooling on any window sills in the late fall, and, if I’m lucky, no more people with nothing better to do than stare.
My steps slow the closer I get to the bar. It might’ve been easy enough writing a letter my mama may or may not ever see. But saying goodbye to Miss Maggie is going to be a whole heck of a lot harder. In a lotta ways, she’s been more of a mother to me than my own mama. Especially, after gran died. She was kind to me, gave me a job at the bar as soon as I was old enough, always made sure to check up on me whenever she could.
I stop just outside the door, wiping my hands on my jeans and taking a deep breath before grabbing the door handle and tu
gging it open. It creaks in a strangely comforting way. I’ve been coming by Billow’s Tavern since long before I was drinking age, usually to look for mama if she’d been gone for a few days. What’ll it be like in a new town without any memories? Not that too many of my memories around here are real good, but they are mine.
Miss Maggie looks up at the sound of the door, her eyes dropping immediately to the bags in my hands.
“Aw, hell, Sterling, don’t tell me you’re takin’ up your mama’s bad habit of yo-yoing in and outta town.”
I let my bags slip out of my fingers, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Then, I grab the nearest stool, sitting down and dipping my head.
“No, ma’am,” I answer.
“You ain’t leavin’?” Her tone makes it clear she don’t believe me.
“I am leavin’.” I lift my head and fix her with the most confident look I can muster. “I ain’t comin’ back though.”
She snorts and shakes her head at me. “You always been a good boy, Sterling.” The words are soothing, but certainly not as exciting as when Barrett gifts them to me. “I hate to see you make the same mistakes she always made.”
“I’m not,” I promise her. “I think there’s more out there for me.”
“More?” She still don’t sound convinced. “What more? There’s just life, and it’s the same out there as it is right here.”
I shrug one shoulder, feeling a little silly for the hope that’s managed to worm its way inside me since last night. “I think I could find somewhere I’d be happier, maybe somewhere nobody knows all about my mama and daddy. Don’t you think there are places where people might be too busy to stop and stare at me?” The feeling of certainty only grows the more I talk about this place I can’t stop imaging. “You always hear about those big cities full of self-absorbed, faceless people. Well, I think I could stand to be faceless for a change, and self-absorbed works just fine for me. I gotta at least try, or I’ll never know.”
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