She hesitates.
I lift a brow. “See, now, you’re just being defiant. I think you’ve known me long enough to realize I would never do anything intentionally to hurt your feelings. Do you still think I’m the sort of guy who would make fun of you for living your truth?”
She shakes her head. I see her little peeking through.
I lift a brow.
She licks her lips. “No, Sir.”
My cock jumps to attention, and I pray she doesn’t notice. In fact, I take a step back, grip her chin, and meet her gaze dead on again. “You have ten minutes to put some clothes on and meet me in the kitchen. I’ll find something and start dinner.”
“Yes, Sir,” She mumbles, her doe eyes wide now.
I release her and turn to leave the room, not stopping until I’ve shut the door behind me. I run a hand through my hair. What the fuck have I just started?
There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea, but I started it, and I intend to see it through. I head to the kitchen and start opening cabinets, the pantry, the freezer, the fridge. In the end, I choose frozen dinosaur chicken nuggets and mac and cheese from a box. These are things she has a lot of, so I assume she enjoys eating them.
My brain is running at full speed as I pop the nuggets in the oven and set a pan on the stove to boil water. I kissed Eve. Jesus, I kissed her. And I liked it. I’m not sure she was her adult self at the time. And I suspect she isn’t sure either. She doesn’t mix sex with her kink. I might have crossed a line. It won’t happen again. For the next two hours, I will show her that she can be herself in her own home.
The smallest sound behind me makes me turn around to find her leaning in the doorway, peeking around the corner really. I glance at my watch. “One minute to spare. Good job.” I’m out of my element, and yet, I’m also not. This isn’t as hard as I suspected.
I don’t comment on her appearance. I try not to look too hard either. She’s wearing a tight white T-shirt with a pink bear on it and a pink skirt that matches the bear. It’s short. Really really short. Her feet are bare. Her hair is in pigtails.
“Why don’t you pick out a movie while I finish dinner? We can eat in the living room.”
Her eyes go wide. She starts to speak then stops herself, glancing away. “Okay,” she murmurs as she shuffles toward the couch. She turns on the tv and scans through the channels, settling on a cartoon station.
I keep half an eye on her while I cook the macaroni and pour us both a drink. Mine is a glass of soda. I take my cues from Davis and the contents of Eve’s refrigerator and cabinets and decide to fix her a sippy cup of part apple juice, part water.
When I take it to her ahead of the meal, she tips her head back and stares up at me. “Thank you,” she finally murmurs.
I know her mind is wired for more though. She proved that in the bedroom. And it’s so easy to get her to shift deeper into her role. The one I know she craves. All I have to do is lift a brow.
She bites that lower lip again and then rephrases, “Thank you, Sir.”
I pat her head instinctively and return to the kitchen. Damn, this is odd. Beyond odd. But not in a bad way. Just…different. Outside of my wheelhouse. Eve is more relaxed already though, so this is what we’re going to do.
I finish cooking and prepare two plates. I bring her a pink plastic plate and a short chubby plastic fork, things I found in her cabinets. The shock on her face makes my chest tighten. She takes the plate from me carefully. “I can eat on the sofa?” she asks, her voice incredulous.
“Uh, sure. Just this once.” I try to sound stern.
She smiles. “Thank you, Sir.”
I can’t stop watching her as she digs into the food.
“Do you want catsup or something to dip your nuggets in?”
She makes a pained face. “Bleh. Gross.”
I chuckle as I return to the kitchen and grab my plate. Can’t say I’ve eaten chicken nuggets or mac and cheese from a box in a long time, but I don’t mind. It’s actually better than fast food.
I sit on the other end of the sofa, balancing my plate in my lap while I eat. The tv is in the middle of an animated movie about some animals, and I find myself sucked in.
This entire thing may be completely from the upside-down, but it’s what Eve needs, so I’ll do this for her. Every night I’m here. I hope that will work.
When she’s done eating, she carries her plate to the sink and sets it inside. She returns to the sofa, picks up her sippy cup, then crawls across the cushion toward me. Her gaze never leaves the tv as she settles on her side, her cheek on my thigh.
I set my plate on the end table so as not to disturb her and smooth my hand down her pigtail, resting it on her hip in the end.
She sighs, relaxing further by the minute. It’s mesmerizing to watch, and eventually, her eyes grow heavy and she falls asleep curled up next to me.
There are so many problems with this picture I can’t even enumerate them. First and foremost, I’m fucking infatuated with this woman. I can’t begin to explain how or why, but I am. Not just her adult. Her little is adorable too. My mouth is dry. My cock is hard again.
I continue stroking her hip because I have been doing so for an hour. The swell of her small breast is impossible to ignore. The tip of her nipple is tempting. Apparently, she doesn’t wear a bra when she’s little. Her skirt is so short that it has risen up enough for me to catch the edge of pink cotton panties.
I force myself to stop staring, tip my head back against the cushions, and close my eyes. I try to rationalize this situation and why I find it sexy and smoking hot. I’ve never been in a situation like this, but I’m a dude. I watch porn. I’ve masturbated more than once to the vision of a woman pretending to be a schoolgirl, pigtails and all. It’s no wonder I’m turned on.
There are differences. Eve isn’t pretending. This is her. Or one side of her. It’s not a game. It’s not a role she’s performing to turn me on. She does this alone most of the time for relaxation. She made it clear to me that she doesn’t mix sex with her little.
I have to clean up my thoughts ASAP. I’m definitely mixing sex with her little. Hell, I’m mixing sex with her everything. And I can’t do that. I’m not here to fuck her. Jesus. I keep having to remind myself of this fact. Not only would it be highly inappropriate, but she hasn’t asked me to do anything of the sort.
Sleeping with her would fuck with both our minds.
Nope. It can’t happen. I’m here to keep her safe. I need to do that, catch the fucking people who are after her, and move on to my next assignment. Maybe the captain will agree to send me deep into a drug bust in another part of town. Something that will purge my mind of my currently inappropriate thoughts about the amazingly complex woman asleep next to me.
It’s not very late, but I know Eve hasn’t gotten enough sleep this week. She’s dead to the world. I decide to put her to bed.
She whimpers when I lift her into my arms and carry her from the room. Her arms go around my neck. “Where are we going, Daddy?”
My breath hitches. I rein myself in. “To bed, baby. You’re tired.”
“Okay.” She hugs me tighter.
I pull back the covers on her side of the bed and lower her onto the sheets. Then I consider her clothes. Her shirt is soft enough to sleep in, and she’s wearing panties, but the skirt is bunched up and looks uncomfortable. When she rolls to her side, I find the zipper, lower it, and pull the skirt over her hips and down her legs.
Before I lose my mind at seeing the fucking hot swell of her bottom encased in pink cotton panties, I find her unicorn, tuck it in her arms, and pull the covers over her sweet body. “Thank you, Daddy,” she murmurs as she snuggles deeper.
I stare at her for a while, mesmerized again by her duality. Finally, I turn the bathroom light on, pull the door almost closed, and pad from the room. I won’t join her for a while. I need to open my computer and check my email anyway. I pray to God that my boss gets a positive ID on her stalker ASAP. Th
e sooner the better. The longer I stay here, the more of my heart I will lose to the gorgeous multifaceted woman in the other room.
I hold my breath while I open the captain’s email, and I don’t release it until I read that the system has been unable to readily identify the face, which means he’s not in the system. Interesting. My boss will send it to another department to dig deeper.
I groan and consider punching something. Not because he didn’t find a match, but because I’m glad he didn’t find a match yet.
Fuck. Me.
Chapter 12
Evelyn
I’ll never understand how this man can sleep so hard in the morning while I get ready for work all around him. Alas, for the third morning in a row, I’m waking him up with coffee in my hands. I like doing this for him. It might be a bit out of my usual persona to take care of a man instead of the other way around, but it feels nice.
I also like waking him. The way he slowly realizes where he is and who he’s with. The smile that spreads across his face as he takes the steaming mug from me. His tousled hair and unshaven face. Sexy with a capital S.
I’m feeling shyer this morning than usual. I allowed myself to be vulnerable with him last night. It was way out of my comfort zone, but it was impossible to turn down the offer. Hell, it was more like a demand from him. Also sexy with a capital S.
Once I was finally able to relax and be myself, I know I fell asleep with my head on his lap. I was exhausted. I don’t remember too much about going to bed, but I’m pretty sure he carried me. I’m pretty sure I called him Daddy. And I’m pretty sure he took off my skirt because I woke up in just my panties and T-shirt.
And then there was that kiss. Before. Before I let myself be vulnerable and little with him. Before I dressed in toddler clothes and put my hair in pigtails. I bite my lip as I stare at his lips. He’s an amazing kisser. Gentle and firm at the same time.
No one has ever quite made my panties melt with a kiss the way he did. It’s unnerving to think about. I can’t believe we did that. Crossed into dangerous territory. Way outside of my usual norm. I don’t kiss men I submit to and I don’t submit to men I kiss.
But I did. And it felt right. Good. Now it’s just scary. I need to stuff it to the back of my head.
I’m still staring at him, sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a good thing I put the coffee down on the bedside table because I would be spilling it now as his hand suddenly slides down from his chest to cover mine a moment before he opens his eyes.
I’m flustered as he threads his fingers with mine and pulls them to his lips, kissing my knuckles before muttering, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I return, almost tacking on the word Sir. Jesus.
“Thirty minutes?” he asks.
I nod and ease my hand free before slipping out of the room.
We do our morning dance in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, me trying to stay out of his way, him fixing a bagel and another cup of coffee. It’s not until we’re in the car that he turns to me and asks, “Tell me about this caffeine quirk of yours.”
I glance at him. “It’s no big deal. It’s just that my little doesn’t drink caffeine.”
“Ahhh. So when you get to work, you are your adult self and you caffeinate for the day.”
“Yes.”
“Do you drink alcohol? You don’t have that in the apartment either.”
“Yes. When I’m out as a vanilla person.”
“Got it.”
“Told you I’m not quite like other people. This is why I don’t get too serious with anyone. I’m complex.”
He reaches over to take my hand. He’s getting bolder about holding my hand as the hours tick by in our strange arrangement. I’m not sorry. “Complex is not a bad thing. It’s who you are. Is there any other aspect of you that you’ve kept hidden from me?”
I think for a second and shake my head. “Nope. You pretty much know all my secrets.” I shudder. There are very few people who know as much as Colt does about my life.
“Then how about you stop tiptoeing around and worrying all the time. I’ve seen it all. I’m not going to judge you. From now on, when we get home, I want you to go directly to your room and change into whatever makes you comfortable. While you do that, I’ll get dinner ready, and you can spend two hours in your little space. If you’re exhausted and you fall asleep like last night, that’s fine. I’ll put you to bed. If you’re still awake or need to take care of anything adult, you can switch personas and manage whatever needs to be seen to.”
Besides how damn appealing his offer is, one thing stands out above all else. No. Two things. First of all, he hasn’t asked me a question. It wasn’t a suggestion. He just laid down the law. And secondly, holy mother of God, it was hot. I’m fighting the need to squirm.
It’s not like me to react this way to demands from any Dom. I don’t have many interactions with Doms who aren’t Daddies of course, so I can’t be sure how I would react to other types of commands, but Colt is not my Daddy.
Except that he kind of is. He certainly took care of me like a Daddy would last night. Never batted an eye either. It’s not really shocking for him to go alpha on me. He’s probably on the bossy side at all times. I have no doubt he’s a dominant lover. But he’s known about my world for less than a week, and somehow he’s managed to fill a role I desperately need filled.
He’s rubbing my knuckles with his thumb casual as can be, but when we arrive at my office, he gives my hand a tug to get my attention before I open the door. His brows are raised in that way that makes my panties melt. My heart is pounding and my nipples are tight. He lifts his brows higher, and I finally lick my lips. I realize I never responded to his proclamation. He’s waiting for me to comply. My entire body trembles as I speak. “Yes, Sir.”
Colton dictating how our evenings will be conducted from now on was extremely dominating, but the way he lifted his brow, waiting for me to respond is off-the-charts controlling. Full Dom. Full Daddy. Does he know it?
“Good girl. Have a nice day. Text me if you leave the building.” He lets my hand go, and I exit the car on wobbly legs. I’m confused and bewildered. Colt has gotten under my skin. I’m in a strange gray zone as I walk to the front of my building.
I’m dressed for success, but my mind is in little space. I need to shake myself out of it, and fast. It’s hard. Colt is so dominant. He just issued a command and silently insisted I verbally agree with the most respectful language commonly used in the fetish community. Yes, Sir.
Perhaps there could have been some doubt about his domination from the demand alone. I could have misunderstood his tone or the meaning behind his words. But the second he lifted that brow and held my gaze… Holy Christ. I melted, and I’m not sure when I’ll recover.
It was the hottest interaction of my life. And it was with a man who’s never seen me naked. Hasn’t had sex with me. Hasn’t spanked me.
He doesn’t fit in any of my worlds really. He’s not my Daddy or my boyfriend. I don’t get to keep him after the threat to my life is over. I’ll probably never see him again. I don’t know his last name. He’s a house guest. A house guest who has managed to cause my two distinct worlds to collide on more than one occasion.
He takes control and forces my little to come out in my adult space. It’s disconcerting on so many levels. I never in my wildest dreams expected to meet someone who could be my everything. I may sleep with a stuffed unicorn but I don’t believe they exist in real life.
I’m still struggling as I reach my floor. After I drop off my purse, I head straight for the break room and make a cup of coffee. While I watch the machine, the scent of adult liquid filling the air, the sounds of it percolating, I slowly pull myself together.
Thank God I don’t drink coffee at home. Before Colt, I often dallied in the morning. I would get up earlier than necessary and stay in my little space for a while. I sometimes eat sugary cereal or pop-tarts. I tend to drag my feet as I shed my little and trans
form into my adult self. I don’t leave her completely until I step out my front door.
Today, that line blurred badly, but the coffee is going to help me seal the transition. And I’m right. The moment I take the first sip, my brain shifts gears. It’s right on time too, because one of my coworkers steps into the breakroom. “Hey, Eve. You have time to go over the numbers for the Smyth account? I feel like something is off.”
“Sure. Meet me in my office in five.” I lift the mug, indicating I need a few moments to let the caffeine enter my blood flow.
Lacy smiles. “You got it. See you then.”
I’m deep in my morning meeting when my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket. I pull it out absentmindedly. Not many people text me during the day. I don’t have a lot of friends outside of work and Surrender. When would I have time?
Leah is my closest friend at the club, and I have casual relationships with a few ladies at work—including Lacy—but that’s about it. Leah doesn’t text me at work.
I can’t help but smile when I see it’s from Colt, but then I remember that any text from him is probably not something I want to see. Either he’s spotted a threat or he’s solved the case. I shouldn’t be wishing he wouldn’t wrap things up quickly of course. That’s insane. I need him to find out who’s following me and put an end to the threat. But that also means an end to our strange relationship.
I take a moment to brace myself before opening the text, glancing around to make sure no one is looking at me.
Just want to make sure you’re okay. You were flustered when you got out of the car. I hope I didn’t push you too far.
My hands are shaking as I put the phone back in my pocket. I can’t possibly respond to him right now.
The meeting ends ten minutes later, and I wait until I’m back in my office alone before I consider my response.
Charming Colton (Surrender Book 8) Page 9
