Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  Studying her from afar, I could see what she liked and didn’t during the scene. I saw how her pouty lips pursed when the Daddy Dom pushed his Little onto the rather hard whipping bench and paddled her bottom. I saw how her eyes softened when the Daddy hugged his little one close and whispered in her ear. And I saw how Kayla's chest heaved when the Daddy flipped his girl over onto her back and proceeded to ram his cock into her.

  Up here, in my office, I find Kayla easily down on the floor. She's at the bar again, ordering another soda, and it seems like she's looking for someone. Seeing as she's new in town, I can only hope it's me she's in search of, which causes something feral inside of me to flare and come back to life. But I'm already balancing on the proverbial line, one that cannot be crossed. Look, but don’t touch. That’s my rule.

  Always…one or two steps from caving. Goddammit.

  Sighing heavily, I walk away from the large window and end up pacing the hardwood floor in front of my desk. I try to minimize everything that’s happened so far this evening. My reason for being drawn to Kayla stems from the desires we share, and of course, physical attraction. She's indescribably beautiful.

  In the grand scheme of things, though, mere attraction isn't much to go on. Far from it. I know virtually nothing about her, so my wish to possess and claim must have something to do with the fact that I haven't been in a D/s relationship in a long time. Vanilla sex, while pleasurable, isn't enough. That’s why I come here—to get my fill.

  It's… It's not enough anymore, is it?

  I slump down in my desk chair. Elbows on the desktop, I run my hands through my hair and tug at the ends. I'm about to begin a new internal rant when a knock on the door interrupts.

  "Mr. Ford, it's Kevin," my club manager says, and I tell him to enter. However, it's not only Kevin. Jesus Christ, it's Kayla, too. "Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Brandon insisted on seeing you."

  Of course she did, I think wryly. How else will she plague my thoughts? "That’s quite all right," I half-lie and wave her in. "You're excused, Kevin." Again, if I were smart, I would've told him to remain. Alas, he's already gone. "Kayla. What can I do for you?"

  She shifts her weight from foot to foot, either uncomfortable or nervous. Maybe a combination of both. "Um, I was wondering if you had any painkillers or something," she mumbles, chewing on her lip. I frown, now concerned. "I have a headache, and…" She lets out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you—"

  I cut her off with a firm yet gentle tone. "Have a seat, honey." I point to the couches by the window. In the mini fridge under my desk, I grab a bottle of water, and in my top drawer, I locate a bottle of Tylenol.

  "I'm sorry." She needs to stop apologizing. "I guess I should've slept more than two hours after my flight." Her smile is rueful.

  "You need your eight hours, Kayla," I chastise and sit down next to her on the couch. "Here, take two." I hand her the pills and the water. "So, let me get this straight. After countless hours on flights, you come to San Francisco, check in to a hotel…?" She nods. "And then you only sleep two hours before coming to my club." I give her a disapproving look.

  "Yeah," she says sheepishly. "But my friend told me about the event tonight. I wanted to be here."

  "Have you at least eaten?" I arch a brow, annoyed and more than a little bit worried. Thankfully, she nods and tells me about going to a restaurant before coming here. She really does appear to be in pain, so I urge her to lean back and close her eyes for a bit. I bet the music downstairs hasn't been much of a help to her. I'm glad she came up here, to be honest. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

  Eyes still closed, she smiles softly and shakes her head. "No, thank you." She hums as I drape a blanket over her. "I just need a moment for the Tylenol to kick in. Then I'll be on my way."

  I frown at that, wanting her to stick around but knowing that'd be stupid. Too tempting. I'm already thinking thoughts I should be ashamed of. For instance, I know very well what could release some tension and help with her headache—something much more pleasurable than painkillers.

  "Mr. Ford?"

  "Hmm?" I look down at her, only to be met by another shy expression. "What is it, sweet girl?" I brush a piece of hair away from her face.

  "Do you, um…" She pulls the blanket up to hide her face, only her eyes visible. "Do you have a Little Girl of your own?"

  I chuckle. "Do you really think I'd be up here with you if I did?" Then I sober, knowing that while I don’t have a sub, I certainly have a girlfriend, and I'm still here with Kayla. I clear my throat and slide away from her. At the same time, the blanket slips down to her chest. "There is someone else," I admit and scrub a hand over my face. "I'm in a vanilla relationship."

  "Oh." Fuck me if she doesn’t pout. "Lucky woman." She offers a small smile. "I should probably go." I don’t think; I just do. When she makes a move to get up, I gently push her back. I will kick my ass tomorrow, but now…I can't resist any longer. "What?" She looks to me, confused.

  I swallow, my mouth too dry. Look, but don’t touch. "Stay," I command quietly. I can feel myself slipping into a role I've suppressed for so long. "How's your head?"

  She shrugs and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

  "I can't touch you," I murmur. "But I can help."

  My mind begins to spin, and the first thing I do is look inside of myself for guilt. It's there, I suppose, but not enough to stop me.

  "How?" Her pupils dilate.

  The smirk on my face tells her all she needs to know, and my cock hardens at the sight of her expression. Judging by her face, her breathing, and her posture, I'd say she's more than a little aroused.

  "Will you let me help you?" I ask softly and place an arm on the back of the couch. With my free hand, I pull away the blanket and drop it on the floor.

  Kayla doesn’t reply verbally, but she does nod—quite furiously.

  "That's a response from a needy little girl." I smile and inch closer. "Are you in such desperate need of an orgasm that cat got your tongue?" Looking down, I have the perfect view of her tits, all pushed together in her light yellow dress. Her pigtails linger down her chest in loose curls, and I can't stop myself from twirling a lock between my fingers, which causes them to brush against her cleavage. "Tell me—" I notice her shiver when I exhale into her neck "—when you're alone and needy, do you fantasize about a big cock destroying your pretty little pussy?" Her breathing hitches, a flush spreading over her lovely cheeks. "Or maybe pushing inside your tight bottom?"

  Dropping my hand, I wrap my fingers around her wrists and keep them in her lap.

  "Yes," she whimpers and rubs her thighs together. "Yes, yes, yes." She licks her lips, another word on the tip of her tongue. I can feel it in my gut.

  I want her to scream for me, call me Daddy—if only to let me have this one moment—beg for more when I fuck her silly. I want her to be desperate. I want her to suck on my cock like it's her pacifier.

  She represents the life I'm caving to.

  "What kind of panties are you wearing?"

  She lets out a breathy moan. "White cotton."

  I hum and release her hands. "Don't move." Bunching up her dress, I finally get a look between her thighs. I tsk her. "Look at that wet spot. Your little kitty has ruined those pretty panties." I shake my head at her, to which she squirms and whimpers again.

  "Please," she begs. "I-I need…"

  Oh, I need too. I need her pussy riding my hard cock.

  "You little baby slut." Slipping off the couch, I kneel before her on the floor and push her legs apart. Fuck, she's so wet. When her eyes widen, I know she's seen my cock straining in my pants. I chuckle. "You're easy to read, little one."

  "I want you," she whines.

  I want her too, but we can't have everything in the world. Lines have already been crossed, and there's no going back for me, but…I won't touch her anymore. I won't touch her intimately while I'm officially unavailable.

  "Slide your panties down for me," I
order her softly. I wet my bottom lip, watching as she obeys without a moment of hesitation, and then I'm granted the sight of her flawless pussy. Bare and so smooth. Her folds glisten with her arousal in the dim light; her fingers twitch, itching to touch. "How is it that you don’t have a Daddy to take care of you, Kayla?" This girl needs someone—someone to make sure she gets her eight hours of sleep, proper meals, plenty of attention, a firm hand when she misbehaves, affection, and a thick cock to fuck her into oblivion.

  "I haven't found anyone in a long time." She pouts.

  I know how she feels. "And now your kitty's all needy and achy?" I trace a finger up her thigh, stopping before I want to.

  "Yes." Her eyes shine with emotion.

  "Oh, sweet girl." I wish I could tell her I'll be the one to look after her from now on. "Do you want us to stop?"

  "No! Please, please, please." Her bottom lip trembles. "I need this—please."

  I nod, both resigned and elated. It's become abundantly clear to me that I can't leave this lifestyle behind. I surrender. And it feels so fucking good. Though, it will feel better once I've ended things with Amanda.

  "Touch yourself." There's no masking the lust in my voice. "Rub that little clit and let me watch."

  "Oh God," she moans and slips a hand between her legs. "I'm so wet."

  "I can see that," I grunt and palm my erection outside my pants. Two of her fingers slide between her slippery lips, gathering arousal which she brings to her clit. I groan under my breath, staring hungrily as she touches, rubs, and circles. "Push two fingers inside. Right now. And spread your lips."

  She does as I've said, and it's all I can take. When I see her two fingers slip inside her slick pussy, I undo my belt and push down my pants. My black boxers, too. My grip on my cock is hard, rough, and Kayla cries out at the sight and starts to fuck herself with her fingers.

  "You're a filthy fucking girl," I accuse huskily. "There's only one type of person who can fix that, isn't there?"

  "Yes," she pleads, watching as I stroke myself. "A Daddy. His cock—I'd be a good girl. I just need—" She stops abruptly and squeezes her eyes shut; it looks like she's close already.

  "You can't come yet." I forbid it. I want to savor this. "Tell me, where do you want Daddy's cock?"

  "In my kitty," she whines and rubs her clit furiously. "Or in my bottom. Or in my mouth, mmm… Lots and lots, all the time."

  I chuckle darkly. "Cock slut." Using the pad of my thumb, I spread out the bead of arousal on the tip of my cock. I moan and tighten my grip, imagining how it would be to bury myself in her pussy, ass, and mouth. "You must be a good girl to get that much cock."

  "I am," she vows. "I'm a really good girl."

  "Then show Daddy your tits." I nod at her dress, realizing a second too late that I referred myself as the Daddy. That’s not good, and I curse myself. It's not a title I throw around casually. So why won't I take it back? "Push it down."

  "Okay." She quickly shoves down the front of her dress, exposing her two perfect breasts. They're more than a handful, yet still perky. "Do you like them?"

  I doubt she knows how much her innocence is turning me on. "You have no idea," I mutter, a bit out of breath. "You're gorgeous, Kayla. Now, lick off your fingers before touching your kitty again."

  My abs tense and the muscles in my neck strain as I watch her suck on her fingers. She lets out a small giggle, causing my cock to grow impossibly harder. Then she settles back against the couch again, feet up, legs spread wide, and returns to circling her clit. Every now and then, some of her juices trickle out of her tight entrance. Since I'm so close, I can also see how her opening contracts, as if it needs something to squeeze—like my cock, fingers, or tongue.

  "Fuck," I spit out and jerk my cock faster.

  "Are you close? I wanna come so bad." She throws her head back, pushes out her tits, and moans. "If you want—" she pants "—if you want, you can come on me. I swear, my kitty likes it."

  "Oh, Jesus Christ," I groan and close my eyes. It's easy to tell she's deep into her role—a role she can't deny, a role I'm already craving, a role that brings out my inner beast. A role that isn't really a role at all. The pleasure builds quickly, almost too quickly. I won't last much longer. Reaching down, I use my free hand to cup and massage my balls.

  Her whimper sets me off, shaking me to my core. "Daddy…"

  "I'm there—close." My eyes flash open as "close" becomes "now," and I start coming. I pump my cock roughly, stream after stream landing over her hand, pussy, and thighs. It feels like my entire being uncoils, months of stifling and suppressing finally unleashing.

  Kayla moans and writhes, spreading my release all over her pussy, and she's close too, fucking herself deeper and faster. "Daddy," she cries out. "May I—may I please come?"

  I tell her she may. Through heavy breathing and husky murmurs, I tell her to be a good girl and come for Daddy. I tell her how perfect her pussy looks with my come on it, and I whisper, as she climaxes with a silent scream, that I want nothing more than to feel her orgasming around my cock.

  "Oh, yes!" she wails. "So good, so good, so good…"

  Coming back down from her high, she pants and gasps and chants how good it felt. She truly is like a little girl, and had I been in my teens, I probably would've been ready for another round by now.

  "You know how we feel about wasting come, don’t you?" I can only hope she does, really. Every Daddy Dom has his own set of rules, and I have no idea what kinds Kayla has been with.

  With me, though, she would lick that up.

  "Of course, Daddy," she giggles in delight. "That’s a silly question."

  She shouldn’t be calling me that.

  I shouldn’t have taken things this far. A rock settles in my stomach, yet it doesn’t stop me from smiling at her.

  She runs a finger over her pussy and brings it to her mouth. Jesus, she's one alluring little girl.

  Now that we've both been temporarily satisfied, I'm disappointed it's over. Had she been mine, this would've been only the beginning. Perhaps we would have showered together. I'd wash her; I'd allow my hands to wander freely and make sure her pretty pussy and cute bottom were very clean. I'd own my little one. I'd fall asleep with her in my bed.

  She would suckle my soft cock, because little girls always need something in their mouths.

  "Good girl," I whisper, tucking myself back into my boxers and pants.

  Kayla grins around her finger and hums.

  It's an image I will never forget.

  "Kayla," I start quietly, "may I ask how old you are?"

  "Twenty-two," she sings, sticking another finger in her mouth.

  Truth be told, her youth turns me on like nothing else.

  "Mmm, this is so good." Her smile is sweeter than sugar as she offers me a come-coated finger. "Wanna taste?"

  I do. I really fucking do want to taste the combination of us, but I can't. I'm already guilt-ridden because of what I've done. Not only have I betrayed Amanda, but I haven't been fair to Kayla; she deserves someone who can commit fully to her.

  There may still be a few lines left uncrossed, though I've done enough. I caved—plain and simple.

  "Hopefully another time," I murmur and sit down next to her on the couch. "I mean that, honey." Once I've ended what I never should've started.

  "You do?" She's back to being shy, but I can see the hope in her eyes.

  I nod and help adjust her dress, for once being a gentleman. "If you decide to stick around San Francisco—"

  She cuts me off, beaming like the sun. "I've already decided!" She nods furiously. "I'm going to stay; I promise. But—" she bites down on her lip, her face falling "—what about your relationship? The last thing I want is to cause problems…" She averts her eyes and lowers her voice to a whisper. "I feel bad. I'm sorry, Mr. Ford." In fact, she looks crestfallen. "Oh, God. I'm awful—"

  I shake my head, and I don’t want another word from her—not if she's going to say such things. "This is on
me. I've made some mistakes that I need to handle, but I want to see you again."

  Because maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a one-time thing.

  Perhaps she could be more than the face and body of a lifestyle I've denied for too long.

  Perhaps this indescribable chemistry between us means something.

  Chapter 3

  The next day when I arrive at the church where Amber is getting married, I'm met by a frosty Amanda. Not only does she know I want to talk to her, but I'm fairly certain she knows what it's about, too.

  When I got home last night, she'd already gone to bed. So, I approached her this morning instead, though as soon as the clichéd "We need to talk" escaped my mouth, she insistently bit out that it could wait until after tonight. She was already being testy, having found me asleep in the guest room instead of next to her in bed, and that’s another reason I'm sure she knows what I want to say.

  I'm not trying to be insensitive by ending things with her on her sister's wedding day; it's just the opposite. Why go through an entire day where I'm introduced to her family as the boyfriend when it's over? Yet, after several tries to get her to listen to me, I didn’t get far. She shot me down each time, and then she left.

  "Hello." I stick my hands into the pockets of my black dress pants. It's a warm June day, so I left my suit jacket in the car. "You look nice." As the maid of honor, she's wearing a deep green dress, a few inches longer than the four bridesmaids' dresses. Her hair is up in an elaborate do, and she's holding a small bouquet of white roses.

  "Thanks," she mutters as I adjust my black tie. "I take it you can find your seat? You're in the second row."

  I nod and take the hint. She's obviously still mad at me, but now that we're here, I'd rather not ruin the day more for her. "I'll see you inside." That said, I walk in, and I'm a stranger so far, which explains why I can walk down the aisle without anyone stopping me. Some smile and nod in greeting, but that’s it.

  I suppose a few wonder who I'm here with, and I can't help but think how easy it would be to crash a wedding, especially one this big. I recall Amanda telling me approximately three hundred people were attending.