Jordan glanced uneasily at the woman in the passenger seat of his truck. Oblivious to him and everything else, she stared at her phone as she had been doing for most of the day. He knew what she was doing—exactly what he’d told her to do. However, things weren’t progressing as he’d anticipated. She frowned, bit her lip, and furrowed her brow as she read, but she didn’t say anything.
“How’s it going?”
“Huh?” She didn’t look up from the screen on her cell.
“How is it going? The research.” He’d hovered in the background as she’d very politely haggled with the florist and talked the caterer into serving exactly what the client wanted instead of what the caterer wanted to make. Amy was a complex woman, and the more he came to know her, the more he fell for her. Now he wanted to accompany her on this new journey—if it was an adventure she wanted to undertake.
“Fine.”
“Do you have any questions yet? I’ve seen you frown quite a bit.”
She gazed at him, surprised. “You want me to ask questions? I thought you wanted me to research it on my own.”
“You can do both. As with any D/s dynamic, every relationship is unique. What you find online can only educate you in broad strokes.”
She put down her phone. It slid between her thighs, a place where Jordan had fantasized about putting his face. He shook the thought away because now wasn’t the time.
“Well,” she paused, sucking her lip. “I think you’re right. I think I’m a little. I’m trying to figure out what age, though. Some of the descriptions of a little seem to fit me, and some of the descriptions of a middle do as well.”
Jordan hadn’t considered that Amy might identify as being a pre-teen. “You don’t have to pick an age. Many littles don’t. You can just be who you feel like being, and that might change depending on the circumstances.” At this point, it was more important for her to come to terms with being a little. “What makes you think you’re a little?”
“Why are you asking me? You’re the one who brought it up in the first place.”
He glanced over to confirm the bratty sparkle in her eyes, but he could tell from her tone that she was playing around. Still, it was a good question that deserved a serious answer. “Just because I suspect something doesn’t make it true. Last week I followed a suspect and chose straight cover. He headed into a gay bar.”
“Maybe he was meeting a friend or he knew you were following him.”
Now why hadn’t he considered that? “Good points. But Amy, I’ve already told you why I think you’re a little. I’d like to know your reasoning.”
She took a breath to gather her thoughts. “Though I’ve learned to hide it, I’ve always enjoyed childish things, and when I’m stressed or overwhelmed, doing those activities helped me calm down. The stress melts away, and I’m free to just be happy for a little while. Reading these blogs—there’s one that talks about needing a lot of attention and affection, and another that talks about needing unconditional love and support, and another that talks about needing discipline, protection, and mentorship—I see so many of my internal conflicts articulated. I’ve always wanted these things, but I’ve been taught that it’s weak to expect them, or that I’m too needy. I’m not a weak person, and I’ve taken great pains to not be childish. But I hate telling myself I can’t buy the headband with the big daisies on it because I’m too old for it.”
It boiled his blood that she felt she had to deny a vital part of who she was. “Where did you see the headband with the daisies?”
“An accessories store in the mall.” She waved it away. “You have a child-like spirit as well, Jordan. You have enjoyed taking me mini-golfing and to the zoo.”
“Absolutely. Indulging you often means indulging myself. It’s a huge draw, for sure.” He slowed to accommodate the traffic of two merging freeways at rush hour. “But I like spoiling you. I want to give you all the things you said you wanted. I need to give you those things. It’s what makes me who I am.”
“But outside of the discipline, it doesn’t sound dominant. This is where I always get confused. If you’re the dominant one, then why would my wants and needs call the shots in the relationship?”
Another great question. He loved the way her mind worked. “Your wants don’t dictate a thing, babe; your needs do. You might want to stay up late, but you need to go to bed early because you have a morning meeting. I’d give you a bedtime, and if you didn’t follow it, you would be punished.”
“What if you’re not there to know?”
“You’d tell me.” He had every confidence in her honesty.
“I would.” She sighed. “I totally would. What kind of punishment?”
“We’d negotiate that as we would with all punishments. I believe the punishment should fit the crime. I’d likely take away a privilege or assign corner time.” The image of her standing in the corner, serving time for excessive brattiness, made him have to shift his sitting position.
She gazed at him uneasily. “You’ve mentioned standing in a corner before, but I haven’t misbehaved yet. You’d really make me stand in the corner?”
“Yes. With your panties around your ankles, and depending on how much you hate it, I might make you suck your thumb.” Other variations included kneeling or having to wear a ginger root butt plug. He might have to restrain her for that one.
She inhaled sharply. “Whatever happened to spanking?”
“It’s a hard limit right now, so it’s off the table. If it wasn’t, I would definitely spank you. You never know—that might be something you like.” Spanking could be very erotic if she were in the right frame of mind.
She dug around in her purse and came up with a sucker. It was an avoidance technique he allowed her. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
She unwrapped it before handing it over. “Guess the flavor.”
It wasn’t difficult. “Cherry.”
“Mine is root beer. It’s my favorite.” She sucked on it for a moment before popping it out. “I might like to try an erotic spanking with you. Darcy says they’re incredible, but she’s a painslut and I’m not.”
“You don’t have to like pain to like an erotic spanking, but we’ll table that for now. What other questions do you have?”
Again, she released the sucker with a popping sound that had him wondering if she enjoyed giving blowjobs as much as she liked playing with that sucker. “The virgin thing. Several of the blogs written by Daddy Doms mention deflowering their little over and over. What’s with that?”
He exited the freeway and came to a stop sign. As he looked for a break in traffic, he addressed her question. “Daddy Doms are attracted to the innocence and apparent naiveté of their little. And right or wrong, men feel proprietary about being the first one there. I’m pleased as hell to be the first person to tie you up and introduce you to the pleasure of sensory play. Every time we’ve played, even when I’m doing the exact same thing to you, you react as if you’ve never experienced it before. That’s part of your openness and innocence. It’s not different with sex. I’ll never expect you to be the aggressor.”
Her face flamed.
“Babe, don’t be embarrassed. I know you’re not a virgin. I don’t expect you to be.”
“It’s not that.” She looked out the window, hiding her face from him. He didn’t like that.
“What, then?” He bit the head off his sucker and crunched on the sugar shards.
“The other night—you were turned off because I kissed you.”
One of the shards went down the wrong way, and he coughed. Thankfully he was at a red light. “I was not turned off because you kissed me. I liked it, and I welcome your kisses and any other sign of affection you want to give. I meant that I’m comfortable with you taking a submissive sexual role and a submissive approach to sex. Maybe you dress in a sexy nightgown, but you wait for me to make the first move. Like that.”
She nursed her root beer sucker the rest of the way home with a f
urrowed brow. When he pulled up in her driveway, she turned to him. “Jordan, are you sure about this? You already know what kind of a Dom you are and what you want out of a relationship, and I’m really just beginning to figure it out.”
He put his hand over hers. “We can figure it out together.”
“But what if it turns out that I’m not a little and I can’t be what you want? Or what if it turns out that you’re not what I need? We’re friends, and I’d hate to lose that.” Distress turned her eyes a darker shade of blue.
Because no words could adequately address her concern, he kissed her. “There are no guarantees in life. What if we’re exactly what we need, and we never take the chance to find out?”
She nodded slowly, momentous thoughts manifesting in her brilliant blue eyes. “You’re right. I want to find out.”
“Then it’s settled, babe. We’re going to find out—together.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Sounds like fun. Thanks for hanging out with me yesterday. Have a great trip.” Amy ended the call and tossed her phone to the coffee table. “My parents are officially gone. They called to tell me what a nice job I did with the wedding and what a cute baby Colin is.”
“That’s nice.” Jordan lounged on the sofa, his long arms resting along the high side and back. “You seem relieved that they’re gone.”
Amy shrugged. “They’re sometimes a bit much to take. My mom is hypercritical about a lot of things, and my dad fills in the gaps with everything else. Darcy and I were both happy when they moved to Florida. They pretty much called me a fat slut at the wedding because I was apparently flirting with you during the ceremony.”
Jordan scowled, his expression morphing instantaneously. “What the hell? You weren’t flirting at all, not until later when you’d had a few drinks. And they have no right to comment on your build. You’re voluptuous, not fat.”
She giggled. “That’s a nice euphemism.”
He pointed to the floor near his thigh. “Kneel here.”
Amy obeyed. Their scenes always started with her in kneeling position. Now that they were in a relationship, he’d made it clear that he expected her submission whenever they were alone. She knelt demurely, with her knees spread, her head held high, and her gaze lowered. After a few moments, she felt his finger under her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his, which was firm and somber.
“I know you grew up in a house where those who were supposed to love and accept you made judgments and comments on your weight. Listen to me, little one: There’s nothing wrong with your body. It’s sexy, babe, sexy as hell. When we’ve done scenes, half the reason I blindfolded you is so you couldn’t see how hard it made me to look at you and touch you. You’re healthy and active, and your diet is better than most people’s. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and there’s nothing about your appearance I’d change. I’ve listened to you make disparaging remarks about yourself, and that stops now. It’s going to be difficult to accept, but you’re going to work on it, and I’m going to help you.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. Nobody had ever said those things to her before. Eric, who’d loved her and wanted to marry her, had frequently invited her to go to the gym with him so they could both get in shape.
Jordan caught her tear, wiping it away with his thumb. “Babe, I need you not to slip into little space because I really want to scene with you right now. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Having read about “little space,” Amy knew that some littles slipped in and out of a mode where they essentially functioned as children. When she was like that, she knew Jordan wouldn’t touch her. He’d nurture and coddle her, but he wouldn’t cross a sexual line. “I’m not. I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I’ve heard about men who like bigger women, but I’ve never met one.”
He smiled. “That was fate saving you for me. And seriously, you’re not big. I can lift you with one hand, babe. That’s small in my universe.”
She liked his universe, and all she could do was smile.
“Come sit on my lap.”
She scrambled up and was rewarded with a kiss that enveloped her senses. Jordan kissed with his whole body. He kissed like he was drowning in bliss, and he dragged her down with him. His hand, which had been supporting her back, traveled around and went straight for her breasts. He’d warned her about his fascination, but she thought he might take his time in getting there. He cupped and squeezed, kneading in time to the thrust of his tongue in her mouth.
And then he tilted her back until she was lying on the sofa. He covered her body with his, nudging her legs apart so he could settle between them. Since she wore a skirt, that meant only her panties and his jeans separated them. When he finally broke the kiss, they both gasped for air. Jordan watched her with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes that promised this was just the beginning. His hand hadn’t left her breast. Through the layers of her bra and shirt, he pinched her pebbled nipple.
“I can get quite rough, babe. If it’s too much, use your safeword, okay? I’m learning your body, and I can’t do that accurately if you don’t tell me what you like and don’t like. This is not the time to be shy.”
“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t think they were in a scene. This just seemed like making out on the couch, something she’d done with her dates since high school. “When did we start a scene?”
“The moment you knelt before me.”
“Are you going to tie me up?”
He lifted a brow. “Eventually. I’m going to do a lot of naughty things to you first, though, if that’s okay with you.” Though his words seemed like he was giving her a choice, his tone pretty much told her that she wasn’t going to get a say in what happened and when.
She expected no less, but this was the first time the element of sex had entered their scenes, and it was the first time he didn’t discuss what might happen beforehand. “Jordan, don’t you think we should talk about what’s going to happen in the scene first?”
He pressed his pelvis between her legs, rubbing his hardness against her pussy. “You’re going to lay back and do as you’re told. If you’re a very good girl, you’ll be rewarded with several orgasms. As for the rest, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Trust him? Of course. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous. This was her first time having sex with a Dom. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I trust you.”
He stopped pressing against her. “I’d like you to use my title, babe. It’s going to feel weird at first, but the more you use it, the more natural it will feel.”
“Daddy.” She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. It was weird, though if she’d been asked to call him Master or Sir, that would have been just as funny.
With a sigh, he shook his head. “We’ll work on that. When you giggle, it makes me want to tickle you more.” Instead of giving in to that inclination, he captured her mouth and held it prisoner as he took what he wanted. Sensations rioted through her body, all of them driven by the power of his kiss. When he finally released her and moved his lips down her neck, she gasped and arched. “Oh, God, you’re good at that.”
She’d worn a low-cut top with her skirt. It showed off her cleavage, and now she was glad she hadn’t given up on trying to impress him with her ‘girls.’ He shoved the fabric down to expose her right boob. “Babe, I’m not God. If my title isn’t working for you quite yet, then use my name.”
She caressed his cheek. “Jordan, you’re a very good kisser.”
With a superior half-smile, he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. What began gently increased in pressure as he rolled. Amy’s breath caught.
“Breathe through it, babe. Let me know when it’s too much.”
Her nipples had never been all that sensitive. He squeezed harder and harder, and the only thing that happened was that her pussy got wetter as tingles zipped on an invisible line directly from her nipple. She gasped and ground her pussy against his bulge. It was almost enough to ge
t her there. “Harder, Jordan—please.”
He eased his grip. “Damn. I think you can handle clamps. Next time. I brought some equipment today, but not those.” With that, he closed his hot mouth over her areola and sucked with short, hard bursts.
Amy cried out and clamped her hands on his head to hold him in place. She ground against him harder. Somehow he made her feel things through her breasts that she’d never felt before.
His hand came between them, separating their bodies and robbing her of a source of friction. He held her down with pressure on her thigh, and his finger eased beneath her panties. He dragged it through her wetness, circling the pulsing bundle of nerves that made up her swollen clit, and then he pinched it to the same rhythm with which he sucked her nipple.
She writhed and squeezed a fistful of his long, dark hair to keep him from stopping. “Jordan,” she breathed. “Oh, please don’t stop.”
He increased the pace of his sucking and pinching, and she climaxed. It was a small one, and as she came down, she slowly released the death grip she had on his hair. “Manners, babe. I just gave you an orgasm. What do you say?”
She looked up into his fathomless brown eyes. “Thank you, Daddy.”
His smile made her heart stutter. “I love hearing that word from you.”
And she liked the way he looked at her when she used it. The title was representative of his relationship to her, and so she didn’t mind it, though she suspected it would be clunky and awkward for some time. He was the one who would love and protect her, guide and cherish her, and he was the one who would rock her world with his kisses, his touch, his ropes, and his toys. She traced a caress down the side of his face, and when she got to his cheek, he turned his face to kiss her palm. “When we’ve scened before, you always called me little one. I liked it a lot.”
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