Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  Call me.

  You can't end things like this. Call.

  If you won't pick up the phone, I can't fix things.

  Do you have any fucking idea what this is doing to me?

  I gotta know how you're doing. Let me know what I did wrong. You said you were okay with everything. Why did you go to that party with Judy and her sub?

  There's nothing pleasant about reading the texts, though they do lessen the guilt marginally. I've fucking tried to reach out to him. And the little "read" sign at the bottom only pisses me off. He's seen them. He ignores them.

  No, fuck it. There's nothing else I can do—or even should do, maybe. I gotta stop dwelling. Gabriella deserves my full attention, and I want to give it to her.

  Putting away my phone, I get back under the covers and hold Gabriella to me.

  *

  The next morning sets the tone for our first two weeks in a D/s relationship. She wakes me up with her singsong voice saying "Daddy," and then she takes my cock in her mouth. She hums, licks it like a lollipop, sucks, plays with the piercing, and drives me crazy until I come in hot streams down her throat.

  My work suffers—and no fucks given—when we spend most of the day in bed. The less-than-stellar night I had fades bit by bit, and she finally reveals the story behind her tattoos. I vow to myself never to let her doubt herself like John did.

  "He made me feel dirty in a bad way. Like it was wrong to want certain things." She makes invisible circles on my chest, lost in her thoughts. "I've always been drawn to the taboo, and I couldn’t really shut off my fantasies. So when I got out of that relationship, I wanted to wear it on my body." She looks up at me, chagrined and shy. "I never told you this, but when you first called me princess, I hated it. I thought you only saw me as this meek doll who smiled pretty and never spoke out of turn."

  I shake my head and touch her cheek. "I knew there was a playful brat hidden underneath the frilly shit."

  She nods. "I discovered that. So I started liking the nickname more and more. I don’t know if you remember, but like six months ago, I stuck my tongue out at you and crossed my eyes, and you hugged me and called me a delightful little princess." I smile at the memory. "It made me wonder if you called me that for reasons other than the pretty dresses."

  I tell her I've always been attracted to playfulness, so yeah, the few times she's let her bratty side shine through, I've seen her as my version of a princess. Carefree, all smiles, a naughty glint in her eye that she doesn’t reveal to everyone. The outfits have been a part of it, I admit, but she's a shitload more than what John made her out to be.

  "I guess I came to the conclusion that I wanna be a wicked princess." She grins impishly. "Hence the princess tats. I'm not comfortable in lace or satin, but I still like being a sweet girl. One who happens to also want it twisted and filthy behind closed doors."

  Sounds fucking perfect to me. As long as she's true to herself, I'll encourage her.

  "But…you know. Old habits die hard." She clears her throat and keeps her gaze fixed on my chest rather than facing me. "I was dead set on being loud about everything I had to hide, but in the end, that kind of fizzled. I got the ink. I was just too chicken to explain it."

  "Until now," I point out quietly. "Healing takes time. You weren't ready to let anyone know why you chose those tattoos until now, and there's nothing wrong with that." I pause as I slide a hand up her thigh that’s hooked over my hips. Her skin is so smooth and soft, and the shadowed ink gives the sweet girl a sexy edge. "Any significance to the ivy?"

  She purses her lips, hiding a grin, then shakes her head. "I wanted a drastic change and thought this one was cool?"

  No idea why she phrased it as a question.

  "It's sexy as fuck," I tell her.

  *

  Our exploration continues, and most of all, I bask in seeing Gabriella relax fully with me so she can jump between Little and her adult side as she pleases. She's surprisingly old-fashioned, and though her attempts at cooking have been, ah…interesting…so far, she's adamant about learning. She admits she likes the idea of a fifties' household, with the exception that she wants to work.

  One night, I'm chewing on her too-al-dente pasta—while stifling my laughter—and she pushes her plate away with a scowl. Then she says, "Maybe I should just stick to drawing. Ugh, no, I won't quit!"

  Already forgetting the food, I wanna know what she meant about that—the drawing.

  It's the first time she shows me a sketchbook, in which she's drawn people from Switch, patterns, random objects, and mainly, tattoo designs.

  "This is fucking incredible, Gabriella."

  "I've applied for an apprenticeship at the place where I got my work done," she confesses shyly.

  My baby girl wants to be a tattoo artist?

  I end up taking her on the kitchen table, sending spaghetti flying everywhere.

  It's two weeks of bliss, two weeks of cautiously hoping we're on the road to better. Both careful and wary where feelings are concerned, we focus on getting to know each other, establishing boundaries, and exploring one another.

  It's been nearly four months since we ended our last relationships, yet it's fresh in my mind since my feelings for Dylan refuse to vanish. Not rushing seems like the best option, though there's that niggling, annoying voice at the back of my head that says not rushing didn’t work out so great last time.

  I guess my issue is that I've never been very good at separating play and reality, mainly 'cause play is real to me. I don’t care about Gabriella at only a certain level—a D/s level, or whatever. I just fucking care, end of.

  I had the same problem with Dylan, and then I'd chosen to slow things down to protect him—and myself—from getting hurt.

  What's a fucker to do, hope for the best?

  Doubt is a fickle bitch.

  *

  One fine evening, we find ourselves arguing—also a first—on the way to Switch.

  "It's nonnegotiable," I say firmly.

  "It can't be!" She scowls and fastens her seat belt, then sits back with a huff and stares out the window. "I'm not taking your money."

  What part of nonnegotiable doesn’t she understand?

  I won't cave on this.

  Some Daddy Doms coddle their Littles when they're upset; I'm not far behind. I worry easily and need to make sure she's okay, but I'm also the man who will teach my subs to fight their own battles. I believe in learning by doing, and that means I won't be there to protect her from every mistake. I won't shield her like some do. I won't stop her from trying something new, even though I'll have a feeling she won't like it. It's important we experience life, the good and the bad. I will, however, catch her when she falls.

  Tonight, she is going to make one of those mistakes, and I told her I'll agree to it on one condition: she'll accept a weekly allowance from me. It's not that fucking hard. She wants to try caning? Fine. She won't like it, but she needs to find out on her own. And the allowance ain't a goddamn handout for food and bills. It's for fun. She's a Little, and I want her to be able to indulge in hobbies that come with her personality, whether it's to buy a new toy—adult or otherwise—go see a movie with friends, or find new fetish wear.

  I enjoy the latter more than she does, anyway.

  "Your silence bothers me." She gives me a pout. "I don’t understand why I can't use my own money."

  "You won't do it." I shrug, getting onto the freeway. "Just two days ago when we booked our tickets to Mexico, you told me money would be tight for a while. Is it so damn weird I wanna make sure you can still have fun?"

  To this day, it makes me grin in pride at the memory of her admitting she didn’t throw the engagement ring at John or, hell, into the ocean. She sold it and kept the money. He's a loaded bastard, so I can only imagine she walked away with quite a bit. That said, her apprenticeship—at which she got accepted yesterday—won't pay the bills. She's on a budget.

  The first things people stop buying when the going gets tou
gh? Shit they want, not shit they need. For her, that would be stuffies, pacifiers with funny graphics, sex toys, and ice cream at the weekly subbie meet-up.

  "I'm having fun with you," she argues. "I don’t need—"

  "It's not about what you need, princess." I grab her hand and kiss it. "It's about me wanting to see that adorable fucking look on your face when you pick out a new blankie."

  She slumps back in her seat. "I can't be scowly when you say that stuff."

  "Good, so I win." I send her a wink.

  She sticks out her tongue at me. "Excuse me for feeling bad about using your hard-earned money."

  "Hey." I grab her arm. "What did you just do?"

  She groans. "Come on! You found it delightful before!"

  It takes a huge amount of effort to hide my amusement. "Know what's spectacular about being Daddy? I make the rules. Now, lose the skirt. You're entering the club in panties."

  If she's really unlucky, I won't find a parking space right outside Switch.

  Gabriella doesn’t say anything, though her mortification is written all over her as she removes her skirt and fruitlessly tries to tug down her top.

  "Come here." After switching lanes, I hold up my arm so she can slide across the seat and let me grope her a bit. "Gimme a kiss." She dutifully kisses my cheek, and I ignore her pout. It's just cute. "For the record, that money's not very hard-earned. I inherited my pop's business ten years ago and sold it to my uncle."

  "Semantics," she mumbles, though she's already surrendered. "Ugh, everyone will see my butt, Daddy."

  "I know." I smile. "They'll see what a lucky bastard I am for being allowed to play with it, too."

  I wanna say the only bastard.

  "Oh," she whines, "isn't it enough that you're going to cane it?"

  "That’s funny," I chuckle, distinctly remembering she's the one who wants to try caning. "Although, technically, it won't be me."

  "What?" She frowns up at me.

  I shrug, turning the wheel for our exit. "Caning's not my kink, so I'm not very good at it. I called Mark for you, though. He'll be happy to show you."

  Mark knows as well as I do that it won't be her thing.

  "I thought you were gonna do it." Gabriella clutches her stomach and looks disappointed. "Now I'm thousand times more nervous, and I don’t want his hands on me that way."

  "Oh, baby, it won't be anything sexual." Fuck no. That’s a mistake I won't make twice. I need to be secure in a relationship before considering sharing play partners again. "He'll try a cane on your ass and thighs, that’s it. I'll be there the whole time." I kiss the top of her hand. "Only I get to do the fun stuff."

  "Whew." She relaxes a bit, though not fully. "I'm still nervous."

  Well, she should be.

  *

  Gabriella calls red after ten minutes of being caned by Mark.

  Picking her up, I carry her to a corner booth in the Club. My buddy follows with his two subs and an aftercare kit. Rio and Nicholas are doing a demo on the platform across the dance floor, so there's no music to compete with when we talk.

  "How are you feeling, honey?" Mark asks, concerned.

  Gabriella cries silently and wipes her cheeks. "It hurts." She shifts on my lap, wincing in pain, and faces Evangeline. "I don’t understand how you like it so much. Felt like punishment to me."

  I weave my fingers through her hair and stroke her back. In the aftercare kit, I find a small packet of aloe, so I empty it into my palm and tell her to scoot out a little. That way, I can access the backside of her thigh. I rub the lotion over the thin welts while Evangeline explains the endorphin rushes pain gives her.

  Evangeline's quick to pout at her Master. "I miss it."

  Mark smirks and pats his girl's little baby belly. "Soon, kitten."

  Brayden joins in, kissing Evangeline's cheek. "Once our son is born, Master can string you up and beat you until… Well, I'll probably cry before you do."

  I shake my head, amused.

  Gabriella perks up and sniffles. "You're having a boy?"

  Oh, right. I should've picked up on that news.

  Evangeline nods, her smile rueful. "Have mercy on me, we're having a future bossy Dom or a sub who gets off on ass play and humiliation."

  Brayden flushes and ducks his head while Mark bellows a laugh.

  "Or he could turn into a complete momma's boy." I wink at Evangeline.

  She smiles widely and crosses her fingers.

  Mark gets a waitress's attention, and we order drinks since we're not going anywhere until we know Gabriella's all right. A beer for me, a Fanta for my girl.

  "So who's excited about Mexico?" Evangeline asks, eyes lighting up. "It's going to be so fun. Will you two possibly be sharing a room?"

  She might as well have asked if we're together.

  "We sure will." It wasn’t that long ago I dreaded the trip. Now things are looking up.

  "Aww, I knew it!" Evangeline looks triumphant.

  "Have you seen Kayla's dress?" Gabriella smiles and wipes the last of her tears. "It's so gorgeous."

  Evangeline nods eagerly. "It really is."

  Mark, Brayden, and I are less interested in dresses—unless they're on the floor—so we make plans for activities instead. With our closest all going, it'd be a damn shame if we didn’t get together at least one night to play.

  Then there's the non-kink fun. Brayden and I end up betting on who'll be fastest on jet skis, and Mark and I decide we gotta do poker night when we're there, too.

  It's not until I hear Gabriella say, "I don't like that name," that I divert my attention to the girls.

  "Why?" Evangeline wonders. "I've heard great things about her from Kayla."

  "Who?" I ask.

  "Sydney—Mr. Ford's sister," she replies. "She'll be at the wedding, of course."

  Gabriella shakes her head quickly. "Oh, it's nothing personal. I am sure his sister is lovely. It's just…a while ago, John mentioned he was interested in adding a third to our relationship."

  Mark and I both scoff, probably thinking the same thing.

  "How would taking care of two Littles work if he failed with one?" Brayden asks the obvious question.

  Gabriella shrugs and takes a sip of her Fanta. "I dunno. He even went as far as meeting a girl—named Sydney." That explains that, but this is news to me. "He wanted us to be sisters, you know?"

  Common enough, especially in the poly scene. Dylan and Gabriella scened as play siblings the times I filmed them, the titles of brother and sister having the same significance as Daddy. A fellow Daddy Dom friend of mine from the East Coast has an established House, complete with a sadistic Mommy—who happens to be his wife—and their three subs, two play sisters and a brother. But they have their shit together. My buddy and his wife can take care of their kink family. John sure as fuck didn’t.

  Mark drains the last of his beer. "Let's hope for his sake he doesn’t show his face here again, but I think Nicholas mentioned he's moved out of state."

  That would be a blessing for John's face.

  Mexico returns as the hot topic, and Gabriella shifts on my lap, her head on my shoulder, while the rest of us discuss other things we can do. It's a small but luxurious resort, half of which Nicholas has booked for the wedding.

  "Tired?" I stroke Gabriella's hair, noticing her eyes are closed and she's sucking on her thumb. "Let me know if you wanna take a nap in Mr. Ford's office."

  She shakes her head and burrows closer. "Wanna stay here with you."

  "Okay, princess." That warms my heart. I give her a hard squeeze that makes her grin.

  Mark and I shoot the shit for a while longer, occasionally pausing when acquaintances pass by our table to say hey. Dante's one of them, and he thanks Gabriella for the letter she gave him, and she blinks sleepily and blushes as he accepts her apology.

  "I'll get back to my scene," he says. "Just my luck to end up with a second plaything who's a Domme in disguise. There's no way this is gonna work out."

&n
bsp; I laugh, having been there.

  "Fuck you," Mark tells me, which makes me crack up harder. "Not a single word!"

  "I haven't said anything, boy!"

  "Something you wanna share with the class?" Dante drawls.

  Down to chuckles, I jerk my chin at Mark. "Fifteen years ago, I picked that guy up in a bar he had no business at." He was only nineteen or twenty at the time and greener within BDSM than me. "He thought he was going to run the show because he'd had some training from a Dom."

  "Oh my God." Evangeline looks fucking giddy. "You two?"

  Brayden stares at his Master, shocked. "You submitted?"

  I snort. "I wouldn’t go that far." We'd wrestled for it. Which, in its own way, was sexy as hell.

  "I was an awful bottom." Mark shucks his front and admits it's funny. "I bailed before he woke up, and the next time we ran into each other was a few years later at a play party."

  "And we kissed and made up." I smirk and tip my empty beer bottle at him.

  "Jackass." He smiles and flips me the bird.

  "Yeah, I don't foresee my situation having the same outcome," Dante replies wryly and flags down a waitress for us. "Enjoy your night, guys. I'm gonna…yeah…" He sighs and walks away.

  Considering that man is drowning in play partners, it's difficult to feel sorry for him.

  Liam's manning the main bar tonight, and he comes over with more drinks on his break, saving a waitress the trip. Scooting farther into the booth, I make room for him, and he launches straight into manly moping about sports, much to Evangeline's disappointment. I have a feeling she was planning on pressing further about Mark and me.

  So, sports it is.

  I'm a huge football fan; anything else can suck my dick. Liam, on the other hand, loves it all. And talks about it all.

  "You watch cricket?" Mark chuckles and lifts his brows.

  "Damn, straight." Liam takes a sip of his water, then turns to me. "Sorry to hear about Dylan, by the way. I saw the press conference last week."

  "What?" I'm not the only one who's suddenly interested. Gabriella sits up straighter too, and the others look confused.

  Liam goes on. "Yeah, he was injured real bad. Not only won't he make it to Nationals in August, but they're being hush-hush about his career—whether he'll be back at all or not."