Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  It's impossible to think he's a Daddy Dom. His appearance doesn’t reveal any gentle nature. If he told me he was a Sadist or something, I would've believed him instantly. But Kayla insists he's sweet underneath his bad-boy exterior, and I did see him play once. He gave a spanking session on a sub, and witnessing the aftercare put a rock of jealousy in me. It wasn’t even that intimate, but he held her for a long time afterward and praised her for being such a good girl.

  I freeze up again as Mr. Kingsley decides to move closer. Leaving his side of the booth, he slides over to the corner close to where I'm sitting, and he extends his hand.

  "I'm Cade. Have coffee with me, and I'll show you I'm not very intimidating once you get to know me."

  Have coffee with me.

  That can mean anything! Date? Unlikely. I know he's bisexual, but he doesn’t know much about me. You learn a lot when you hide out and observe. So given what I do know about him, he's probably only being the concerned Top who wants me to find my way in a community he plays a pretty big role in.

  After subtly wiping my hand on my thigh, I shake his and try not to freak out. "I can take your word for it, Sir. You don’t have to go out with—"

  "I want to." His eyes show the smile his sensual mouth doesn’t. "Are you straight?"

  Can he be blunter?

  "No…"

  For the record, he hasn't let go of my hand yet, and the freak-out is imminent.

  He hums and gives me a pensive once-over. "Nicholas told me you're a Middle."

  I nod, staring at my hand in his.

  "Dylan, look at me."

  I'd rather not, but fine. I lift my gaze, feeling like he can pick thoughts straight from my brain when he stares at me like that. How he can pull off intense and casual at once is beyond me.

  The corners of his mouth twist up a little. "How about dinner instead?"

  Date territory.

  My pulse skyrockets some more because, let's drive me completely mad, and I manage another nod. Fuck me over, dinner with Mr. Kingsley. How is this happening?

  "When?" I ask, my mouth too dry.

  "Your schedule is busier than mine, little pro athlete."

  How does he—never mind. Maybe Kayla told him what I do.

  "I'm, um, free next weekend." I'm actually not. But for him? I damn well will be.

  He flashes a brief, warm smile. "Fucking perfect. Next weekend, it is."

  *

  "What're you gonna wear?" Kayla asks.

  I trap the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I zip up my pants. "The black slacks you approved and the shirt my grandmother sent. The light blue one?" I grab it from my closet and throw it on. "Don't you have a Mexican beach to run around on?" I don't want to take up too much of her time.

  She makes a noise. "I'm waiting for Nicholas to get out of the shower. I'm more interested in talking about your wedding."

  "Jesus Christ." It's a first date with a man I barely know, and she's got a wedding in mind? She's relentless. "What should I do with my hair?" I may or may not be too nervous to do this on my own, so it was surprisingly easy to quit pretending Kayla's on my shit list for meddling.

  "Leave it," she advises. "I think he'll like it mussed up."

  That's kinda my default mode. Mussed up. Leaving my top button unbuttoned, I check my watch and suck in a breath. He's picking me up any minute. Which I freaking told him he didn’t have to do, but he insisted.

  "It's gonna go great, Dylan," Kayla tells me. "I think you've been on each other's radars for some time. You just need to relax and let him see the goof you are when he's not around."

  It's not easy to be goofy when you're so anxious. I may not know Cade Kingsley personally, but I know lots about him. I like him. Probably more than I should.

  "I'll try," I promise. It's the least I can do. "I should brush my teeth again."

  "That's the spirit!" she giggles and makes kissing noises.

  I grin and roll my eyes, and after another minute of going back and forth, we hang up. It took a solemn vow of giving her all the details later before she could end the call.

  In a record time of three minutes, I brush my teeth, put on socks and shoes, and locate my wallet—

  "Dylan!" one of my roommates hollers. "Someone's at the door for you!"

  "Shit," I curse. I'm not ready for this; I don't even know how I got to this point. What the fuck happened to avoiding him for the rest of my life and pining from afar like some lovesick puppy? They deserve their place in the world, too. It's not only for brave people.

  Running a hand through my hair, I take a final glance in the mirror, then at the messy state of my room, before I walk out the door.

  "Hot date?" Jimmy waggles his eyebrows, his ass stuck to the couch as always.

  "Eat me," I reply.

  Mr. Kingsley's waiting in the hallway, leaning casually against the doorframe, looking like my biggest fucking fantasy. We're dressed similarly, though his shirt is gray, and he's showcasing the ink covering his forearms.

  "Hi." I smile nervously and grab my jacket. "Aren't you cold?" It's freezing out.

  "My truck's warm." He doesn't move from the doorway when I approach, so I slow down. Have I forgotten anyth— "Beautiful boy." He leans down and presses a kiss to my jaw, and just like that, I know I don't stand a chance against this man. "You've kept me waiting."

  I shudder and lock my knees into place before they cave. "I-I have?"

  "Mm. I've wanted to play with you for a long time."

  Goddamn. I guess…here's to making up for lost time? One can hope.

  *

  Mr. Kingsley takes me to his favorite steakhouse, where it's close to impossible to find anything on the menu my nutritionist would approve of. That means the food is fucking delicious.

  It's a lively place with music, and we're tucked into a corner with a table full of food. I'm starving and I eat plenty of the various dishes we ordered, but it gets increasingly difficult since the volume of the music has us sitting so close. Tables are otherwise a great barrier to have in between us. Not with this one, though. He slipped right in next to me.

  "I heard from Gabriella you were at the munch this week," he mentions, sucking barbecue sauce rib glaze off his thumb. Yummy. "She said she's never laughed so hard in her life."

  I grin at that, 'cause meeting Gabriella has turned out to be a hoot and a half. "She's so awesome. We teamed up for charades right there in the coffee shop. People gave us the funniest looks."

  Plus, Kayla got pouty and bugged when Gabriella and I won. There were maybe…ten of us in total? And everyone pitched in to give the two winners hot chocolate and cupcakes. I'm definitely making the munch a must from now on.

  To be fair, I shared my hot chocolate with Kayla. It put a smile back on her face, and I tell Mr. Kingsley that.

  He slants a lazy smile at me. "You're a sweet one, aren't you?"

  I chew on my lip and shrug, 'cause I don't know, and I distract myself by grabbing another fried wing. They might kill me, and what a way to go. You can take a boy out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the boy, and deep-fried stuff is the best stuff.

  "Have you ever had a Daddy Dom or Mommy Domme, Dylan?"

  I shake my head no. "Only a little bit of casual play."

  "Hmm."

  What does that mean? He can be very hard to decipher, I'm learning. A bit ironic when I think of it, 'cause I know more by just watching. I know he loves to woodwork and design fetish furniture, I know he often has a cigarette stuck behind his ear even though he quit smoking a long time ago, I know he is affectionate and very giving with people he cares for, I know he has the sexiest laugh… I know my infatuation runs deep.

  Because of that, he scares the crap out of me.

  I side-eye him and stick a couple fries in my mouth. Another thing I'm pretty sure about where he's concerned is that he's not afraid to pursue, but I don't think he will push much. If he doesn’t detect any interest, he'll back off.

  Have I sho
wn much interest? Maybe I could be better at that.

  "Can—" Ugh, I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly too dry. In fact, I grab my soda and gulp down some Coke, maybe also to stall. Here we go. Deep breaths. "Can we play sometime, maybe? Only if you want."

  His eyebrows give a little lift, and he sets down his burger.

  He is a sadistic bastard, after all. Rather than answering me right away and putting me out of my misery, he wipes his mouth with a napkin, takes a swig of his beer, then leans back casually and rests his arm along the back of the booth.

  "Come here." With his arm behind me, he nudges me closer, and my heart decides to jump up into my throat. His other hand shapes itself to my jaw, drawing a shudder from me. "When we play…is kissing all right?"

  I furrow my brow, then nod hesitantly. Of course kissing is okay. More than. I may have dreamed about it a hundred thousand times already.

  "Good. Then I want a taste." That’s all he says before he leans in and plants his warm lips to mine and gives me a slow, firm kiss. Oh, fucking finally. "Mm, well, that's not enough." He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I get my head out of my butt and kiss him back.

  Parting my lips some more, I put a hand on his sculpted chest and get sneaky. I just wanna feel a bit, and he's not wearing an undershirt. Desire floods my senses as he swirls his tongue sensually along mine, and I slip my thumb between two buttons and come across warm skin and chest hair.

  I shiver violently and accidentally exhale a low moan.

  "Jesus," he whispers huskily. "You're dangerous, little boy."

  I might as well give up on getting past the shudders. They set each other off, one by one. "Not as d-dangerous as you are."

  "Oh, yeah?" His smile is dark and sinful, and he drops his indecent gaze to where I'm stealthily feeling him up. He lifts a brow, chuckles, then kisses me again. "Practicing patience is gonna be tough with you."

  "I hope so," I admit.

  He groans under his breath, and to my dismay, he backs off after one final, hard kiss. "I wanna know more about you." With a crooked smirk, he pries away my greedy fingers and kisses my knuckles. "Tell me how you found kink."

  Yeah, that’s literally the last thing I feel like doing. Can't we just jump in the sack?

  "Don't be a slut," he murmurs with a knowing glint in his eye. The tips of my ears heat up. "Not yet, anyway. Not until I have you in my bed." About that…can't we do that now? "Fucking hell, you tempt me, Dylan."

  I grin, out of breath, and I feel oddly relaxed—despite the raging lust. The relief is immense, and I wanna be playful and bratty around him. I get the feeling he's one of the Doms who enjoys that.

  "I guess I can't help it around you," I confess. "You've been driving me insane for months, Sir."

  He rumbles a quiet growl and gives my bottom lip a sharp nip. "You're testing my restraint, boy." His hand covers my cheek as he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear. "I'm already counting the minutes 'til I get to hear Daddy from your sweet lips, but for now…you gotta be good for me."

  Oh God, I'm not even sure I can, not after he said that.

  *

  I've never been through anything like this before. The switch in my brain is automatic, because Mr. Kingsley—or Cade, as he's said I can call him—makes it stupidly easy for me to let go of everything and, for the first time in my life, really sink into my Middle self.

  We discuss kinks, the people at Switch, and music, and every time I do anything remotely youthful, he rewards me with smiles of approval before I can get nervous and second-guess myself.

  I gotta hand it to him, too. He's a man of his word, and his self-restraint is stronger than he gives himself credit for. The effect I have on him is clear as day, much to my excitement, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. That said, he's firm. Sex is off the table tonight because he doesn’t want us to rush.

  The fact that he won't budge might provide an ounce of disappointment for instant gratification, but on the other hand, a man who doesn't budge? Hard to come by. I don't want a Dom I can manipulate or use sex with to get my way. It would give me way too much power.

  That doesn’t stop me from trying to persuade him, though…

  On the way home from dinner, I complain about certain, uh, frustrations.

  In my defense, they're very real. Never before have I enjoyed a date so much that dinner lasted four hours, and that was four hours of good food, getting to know each other, and so much sexual tension I could just kick the bucket already.

  "You poor thing," he chuckles warmly and switches lanes. "You think you're the only one who struggles?"

  "Maybe," I muse. "I'll have to take care of, um, things tonight—all by myself."

  "Oh, really?" His amused expression doesn’t leave the road. "You know, if we start an arrangement, that’s the type of thing you'll have to ask permission to do."

  Fuck, I want that. I adjust my seat belt and chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking. Debating internally. I want him to know I want it. An arrangement…relationship…but one thing at a time.

  "Would it please you if I asked for tonight, too?" I wonder.

  His smile softens a little. "It would, Dylan."

  "Okay, so for tonight…" It's strangely nerve-racking. I've never asked permission before. I've only dreamed about it. "Is it all right if I—" Goodness. I have to actually say the words. Wow, I never thought that would be such a big deal, yet here I am, stuttering and getting nervous. "Okay that I, um, you know, get off?"

  He grins and snatches up my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my palm. "That was too adorable. But no." Dammit! "I think you should keep your hands out of your pants until our next date."

  "Aw, man." I slump back, though I'm more saddened that I'm almost home.

  He laughs quietly. "Outta curiosity, how would the perfect evening end?"

  "Hmm." I tap my chin. "Contrary to what you might believe right now, it doesn't have to be sex." I scowl playfully at his carefree laugh. "Like, duh, I like to get off, but for your information, cuddling is awesome. Kissing and cuddling and touching and being tucked in."

  He grins and nods slowly. "For your information, I'm a big fan of that, too. I'm sure tucking you in will be fun. There's also bath time."

  Ka-dunk. Like that, a ball of lust drops to my gut. "Yeah…" I have to adjust my dick at the mental image of him inspecting my body after bath time. "Sir, when can I see you again?"

  "Soon, baby boy. Very soon."

  Behind the Scenes

  Losing His Touch

  Rio Kelly

  Being a dungeon monitor at Switch is sometimes much like watching a train wreck. Pushing up the sleeves of my black button-down, I lean back against the circular bar in the middle of the floor of the Cave, and I merely wait for shit to go wrong. Eyes trained on a scening stall in which a Dom has restrained his submissive to Cade's custom-designed sex chair. The narrow chaise longue is formed like a tilde, and the sub is situated too far down in the curve for her back to arch. It leaves her neck too exposed as she leans back, hands and ankles shackled to the sides of the contraption.

  Cade himself stops next to me, also on DM patrol this busy evening. "He did that intentionally, didn’t he?"

  "Probably." We know the Dom booked the stall for a breath play scene, and they have to be supervised. With his goal in mind, it's easy to draw the conclusion that he wants her neck bent backward to that degree.

  "Jesus. Have fun with that one, Doc." He slaps me on the shoulder and continues.

  Doc. It's not a regular nickname for me, but I suppose it's fitting at the minute. Scrubbing a hand over my mouth and jaw, I can certainly acknowledge that all the years I spent earning my MD have made me more, ah, sensitive, for lack of a better word, to Doms and Tops who put their partners in unnecessary danger because they haven't the faintest clue about human anatomy.

  The Dom strokes and caresses his sub into a lulled state. She looks blissed out, yet full of anticipation. Blindfolded, restrained, flushed, nipples constric
ting.

  Then I have to intervene. Approaching the stall, I snatch up a pair of soundproof headphones and clear my throat.

  "Pardon, sir." I speak just loud enough so he can hear me above the heavy music.

  The Dom tosses a scowl over his shoulder, and I raise a brow and extend the headphones to him. There's no need for the submissive to hear another Dom schooling her Owner, but I can't allow him to choke her out like that.

  He grabs the headphones and puts them on his sub, after which I take another couple steps closer.

  "Cutting off her air supply can cause permanent damage to her larynx." I gesture in a may-I way to approach his property. "It's the blood flow you want to compress." With his permission, I ghost my thumb and index finger along the sides of the sub's neck, a couple inches below her jaw. She can't feel that it's me barely touching her. By applying pressure on her carotid arteries, he'll block the oxygen to her brain, giving her the floaty carbon dioxide high she'll love. I go on, explaining how to do it in brief intervals, and—

  I snap my gaze toward the opening of the dungeon, confused by the loud commotion coming from the main Club area.

  "Excuse me for one moment." I leave the stall and pick up the pace when I spot Cade all but flying out of the Cave. With the loud music only getting louder, I don’t see what's going on until I'm halfway across the Club.

  Bloody hell.

  Mark is in a fight with someone, another man, and they're not alone. Dante's holding a panicking Kayla, a sight that automatically makes my blood boil, and a young blonde then joins in on the fight.

  My next curse is verbal, and I push my way through the forming crowd, jaw set and adrenaline surging.

  "For fuck's sake!" Mark shouts. "Ray, hurry!"

  "Get that girl away from here," I bark at Cade. I can't see who the blonde is, but she's attacking the man Mark is fighting with tight fists. Instead, Cade is busy getting ahold of the man who's clearly drunk, judging by his obnoxious yelling.

  Pushing away the last obstacles, I reach the fight and quickly slip an arm around the slender blond girl, hauling her backward.