Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  "Vows don’t mean everything to some people," he reminds me softly. "Regardless…Greg evidently didn’t take it very well when Mark told their parents about Brayden and Evangeline. That’s all I know."

  I slump lower in my seat and guzzle down some water with my painkillers. "My head hurts." Tonight was supposed to be fun; Chelsea and Rio were seeing each other for the first time in years, and…oh drat, everything got shot straight to hell instead, didn’t it? "Is Chelsea okay?"

  He nods and tucks me close, Jackson and Oliver following by climbing on us. "Dante took over. She's fine." His eyes search mine, and I don’t like the crease of anxiousness in his forehead. "You had me worried, Kayla."

  "Are you mad at me?" I look up at him with my puppy-dog eyes. "I didn’t mean to get in trouble, not even a touch!"

  "I know." He kisses my temple and sighs. "You always mean well—I know that. But you really should've called for help."

  Yeah, I should've. Stupid me. "I'm sorry."

  To my surprise, Daddy lets out a small chuckle. "I recall another time where I gave you Tylenol and water, and you couldn’t stop apologizing."

  Oh. My cheeks heat up as I smile, also remembering. It was the night we met. "I'm really glad I came up here."

  "You have no idea, sweet girl." He gently palms my cheek and presses a kiss to my nose. "You've turned my life upside down in the best ways."

  And he has stabilized mine in the best ways.

  Chapter 8

  Only a few minutes pass in comfortable silence before there's a knock on the door.

  I quickly gather Jackson and Oliver close before they can become fugitives.

  "Reality interrupts." Daddy stands up and opens the door, revealing Mark with an ice pack to his neck. "You look like death warmed over, my friend." Daddy gestures for Mark to enter. "You all right?"

  "I'm fine." Mark looks irritated, probably with his brother. I would be, too. Actually, I am! "I just came to tell you that everything's been taken care of, and…" He glances over at me apologetically. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, Sir." I nod and wave one of Jackson's little paws at him. "Wanna say hi to Jackson and Oliver?"

  His mouth quirks up. "Maybe later, honey." He turns to Daddy again. "Ray thinks you're gonna fire him for letting Greg get past him. You want me to tell him anything?"

  Daddy shakes his head and walks over to sit down next to me again. "He's not getting fired. I should've had two men at the door from the beginning, not waited to see if a second was needed. I knew there was going to be a big crowd tonight." He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. "I'll be down soon, but—"

  "No rush, man. We have it covered. Rio left, but Cade's called in two more DMs, and Leo has arrived now to help Ray at the door."

  Daddy frowns. "Rio left?"

  That makes me frown, too.

  "Yeah…" Mark furrows his brows. "He muttered something about ghosts from his past." He shrugs while my eyes widen and I slap a hand over my mouth, just knowing Chelsea's that ghost. And I missed it! Crap, crap, crap. "Want me to call in Kevin, too?"

  Oh yeah, Kevin—the club manager and Daddy's right-hand man—isn't here tonight. Can't believe I forgot that, seeing as he's pretty much always here.

  Daddy waves that off. "No, it's his anniversary. The man works too much—let him have his weekend off." He pauses and gives me a fleeting look. "I have a feeling I know why Rio left. I'll call him later. And this with your brother…?" He raises a brow.

  Mark's scowl is back. "Oh, trust me. I'll take care of that." He brushes a thumb over his bottom lip, wincing slightly at the cut there. "I punched him for you, too, by the way. Fuckin' scratcher." He makes a face and applies pressure to the ice pack on his neck. "The cops are taking him to the hospital for a broken jaw—silver lining, right?" He sighs. "Let me know if you wanna press charges."

  Ugh. I want this past hour to go poof—like it never existed. Dragging in the police isn't gonna help me forget.

  "I'd prefer to get my hands on him myself." Daddy smiles tightly. "But thank you. You should let your subs take care of you now. They're probably worried downstairs."

  Mark nods, then faces me one last time. "I'm really sorry about this, Kayla."

  "What?" I scrunch my nose. "Don’t be silly, Master Cooper. It's not like you're to blame for your dumbass brother." I shoot Daddy a quick look of apology. "Sorry for the cussing, but I had to. It's like that."

  He chuckles and touches my cheek. "That's quite all right, sweetheart."

  Good.

  Dumb, dummy, dumbass Greg.

  *

  Once Mark has returned downstairs again, Daddy strips me down and gives me some jammies that I keep here for late nights. Just a long T-shirt with pretty hearts on it, and he tells me to rest for a while. My precious kittens are snuggled up with me under the soft blanket, and Daddy puts on soothing music for me to listen to while I fall asleep.

  "Do you know what else I remember from the night we met?" He sits down next to me on the edge of the couch, and to my confusion, he lets Jackson and Oliver down on the floor.

  Shaking my head in reply, I watch as the kittens play with each other, crouching and jumping and bumping into one another and wielding their paws like swords.

  "I remember the ways I wanted to cure your headache." Daddy's words certainly have my attention now! The left corner of his mouth slants up as he slowly slides a hand under the blanket. "How is your head now?"

  I exhale and part my legs, his hand now caressing my inner thigh. Thank goodness for no panties. "Um." I swallow and lick my lips. "It still hurts a little." Holding up my thumb and forefinger, I show how much the painkillers haven't fixed.

  He hums. "Probably best Daddy takes care of that, then." He moves farther down on the couch and bends low over my middle. The blanket is shifted aside, and then he kisses where his hands have been. "God, you smell good." He nuzzles the lips, then licks the length of my sex. "Delicious, too."

  "Ohh!" My heart starts beating rapidly, almost racing. "Daddy—oh Daddy, it's not nice to tease." It's agonizing, the softness and wetness of his tongue ghosting over my needy flesh. I get goose bumps and the shivers. "Please. More."

  He doesn’t reply, but he does give me more. He kisses my pussy as if he was kissing my mouth. Passionately, thoroughly, possessing it, loving it. My headache pounds as I stiffen, but I know it's only a matter of minutes before it all fades. Daddy's skilled fingers coax more wetness out of me, his lips suck on my clit, and his tongue presses down on it, circles it, and strokes it.

  The buildup is maddening.

  He moans quietly and licks me harder, greedier.

  I squirm and buck my hips, 'cause I can't control myself.

  "That’s fucking beautiful, Kayla." He watches me with lust-filled eyes as he brings me closer and closer. His right hand comes up to cup my boobs, playing them expertly and sensually.

  I suck in a sharp breath and hold it, right on that edge. The pain of my headache vibrates instead of pounds, as if it's struggling to keep up. But Daddy's fingers and mouth win. As he brushes the pad of his thumb over my back entrance, I screw my eyes shut while ripples of ecstasy shoot through me, and I explode like a shaken-up soda.

  I'm like a puddle of goo, barely able to breathe. I hear breathless little whimpers and realize they're coming from me, and it's not until the pleasure has subsided that I can control much of anything.

  "How is your head now?" Before Daddy lets me answer, he covers my body with his and kisses me ruthlessly. I taste myself on his tongue, feel his hardness between my thighs, and sense his need in every touch. "Christ, I'll never be able to get enough of you."

  "Good." I giggle, out of breath, and that's my answer for everything he said. "May I help you now? You're so hard, Daddy."

  He shakes his head no and kisses me again, softly this time. "You're going to rest now." Then he composes himself and sits down next to me. "I've left your cell phone on the table here." He taps the coffee table and caresses my cheek with his f
ree hand. "You can come back downstairs whenever you want, but call me first. I'll come get you." He gently unties the bows that keep my pigtails together and weaves his fingers through my long hair. "I'm afraid I'll be keeping you close for a while." I understand that, but right now I'm still more focused on helping Daddy with his hard cock. "Anything you want me to tell Chelsea?"

  I flush, flustered, because I can't get back to normal as quickly as he can. Hell, my breathing's not even regulated yet! Aside from his eyes being a shade darker, proof of his aroused state, he's as cool as a cucumber.

  "Just…tell her I'm fine." I shake my head, gathering my thoughts. "And make sure she's okay, too. She got close earlier—I think she hit Mark's brother."

  Daddy's definitely torn between worry and amusement. There might be a pinch of disapproval, as well. "I'll be having a chat with that girl. I'm proud of her for defending you, but the last thing I want to see is a sub getting hurt. You girls need to learn how to call for help." He gives me a pointed look, to which I pull the blanket up to my nose. "Speaking of Chelsea, we'll be addressing her situation with Rio soon."

  Despite Daddy's light scolding, I can't help but smile super wide, and I lower the blanket again. "He remembers her, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he? He has to!"

  "It would appear so, yes." He fights a smile as he returns my kittens to me. "What that means, I have no idea. I'll have to talk to Rio." Jackson cuddles close to my neck, and Oliver bumps his little nose to my shoulder. "He probably won't be in a good mood."

  Uh-oh. "Do you think he'll be mad at me?" I do not want Master Rio to punish me.

  "No. I'm responsible for you, and I've kept the truth from him, too." He dips down to kiss me on the lips. "Rest now, baby girl. We have hours until closing, so focus on feeling better. I'm only a phone call away, and you'll have plenty of time with your friends later."

  A nap does sound good. A yawn slips out, to boot. "Okay. Love you, Daddy."

  "More than words can say." He does show it well, though. I'm so lucky. "Sweet dreams."

  Always. Sometimes funny dreams, too. Like…about what kind of trouble I can get into next.

  Behind the Scenes

  The First Touch

  Dylan Reaves

  Showing up at a fetish club in clothes more appropriate for the gym—probably not my wisest call. I stow away my hoodie and lose my T-shirt, leaving me in the pair of black sweats I donned after practice. My sneakers are black, so hopefully they won't attract any attention.

  Leaving the dressing room, I run a hand through my hair, not entirely dry after my shower, and fire off a message to Kayla.

  I'm here, brat.

  It's been a while. With my training schedule, I can go several weeks without setting foot inside Switch, so I guess the place is still new to me. At least, there's this thrill every time I come here.

  I haven't befriended many since I moved here, mostly just Kayla and Cole. Cole's a professional swimmer like me, though he's closer to retirement. In my field, that means he's a little over thirty. You get old fast.

  He should be around here somewhere, too. I look around the lobby on my way to the club area, not recognizing anyone. That’s a good thing. I wouldn’t want to run into Cade Kingsley. He might be a reason I don't complain about not having much time to come here.

  The evening has recently started at Switch, so not very many are here yet. A handful of smaller groups of people use the dance floor to chat rather than dance, and I nod in hello when I spot Cole. He's obviously trying to score, meaning I won't get close to him. He might try to flirt with me again, and we are not a good match. He is too sadistic for my tastes. Instead, I veer right and order a soda at the bar.

  While I wait for my Cherry Coke, my phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket and squint in confusion at Kayla's text.

  Hi. I am a sneaky ninja, and I have to get a rain check. Daddy is taking me to the movies tonight! Gots to go, he's back with my Happy Meal. Have fun! xoxoxo

  This makes no sense. She specifically told me I had to be here tonight; she said she had something important to tell me. Dammit, I cut my practice short because of this!

  I huff and pocket my phone again. Kayla is no ninja. She's a brat, and she's officially stood me up for a Happy Meal. One dose cheeseburger, one dose Daddy Dom.

  "You look glum," the bartender tells me as he sets the glass of Cherry Coke in front of me. His name is Liam, I think. "You're Dylan, right?"

  I nod and pay for my soda. "Yes, Sir. Kayla ditched me for a toy made in China." I pause. "You do still get toys with the kids meal at McDonald's, right?"

  He lets out a laugh. "I may have stepped on one or two at home."

  I guess it's just me, then. I'll stay until I've finished my soda, and then I can go home and catch some extra sleep. Practice at five AM most mornings means I'm usually a zombie before the evening news.

  About to turn in my seat to face the dance floor, I freeze instead when none other than Mr. Kingsley walks up some ten feet away to talk to Liam. Oh God, don't move, don't make a sound. He can't see me if I don't move, right? If he can't see me, he can't notice I turn into a spaz around him.

  I duck my head and turn away slightly, and while he bitches about something—too low for me to hear the actual words—I slip off my stool. There's no crowd to get lost in, so I try to be as stealthy as possible and sneak away to the seating area. Easier to blend in there. It's darker and doesn’t catch your eye.

  Finding one of the booths empty, I slide in and—

  "Excuse me, you dropped this." A girl walks over with a polite smile and hands me my phone. "Oh, you got lucky. My screen would have cracked."

  "Thank you." I'm a fucking idiot.

  "Hey, aren't you Kayla's friend?" she asks.

  I nod hesitantly. "Dylan."

  Her smile reappears with a dimple. Gorgeous. "I'm Gabriella. You should join us for the subbie munch next week. She says she's been trying to introduce you to more people."

  "Ah—yeah." I clear my throat. "Busy schedule, I guess. But, um…is it just for subs?" That's news to me. Kayla has mentioned the weekly munch to me, but I assumed it was for everyone—including one smoking hot Daddy Dom I tend to lose my crap around. I swear, the first time I saw him, my breathing stuttered. He is that sexy.

  "Yes, only us subbie types," Gabriella responds. "It can be overwhelming when you're new to a community, and having a chance to meet up without the Doms around is nice."

  I can relate to that. "I'll try to make it to the next one," I say, relaxing a bit more.

  Gabriella seems like a nice girl, though we don’t chat much longer. When she gets a message from her Dom, she stiffens, plasters a tight smile on her face, and excuses herself before trailing toward the lobby.

  Maybe someone's getting chastised…? I wouldn’t be able to muster a genuine grin for that, either. Not that I have much experience. Porn introduced me to the BDSM world, and for a couple years, fetish clips and stories were enough for me. Then I ended up in an online community and found myself wanting to try more, particularly once I figured out I didn’t have to be a Little or a regular sub. I could be a Middle, an in-between sort of kink that clicks for me.

  My real-life experience is limited to a few public scenes here at Switch, but I couldn’t relax fully then. I was just an s-type. I think, for me, much of the Daddy kink appeal is reserved for an actual relationship.

  It's my turn to stiffen when someone sits down across from me, and I die as I realize it's Mr. Kingsley. No, no. This isn't happening. I can't detect a heartbeat in myself. Oh, this is bad. Have I fucked up somehow? I've barely been here, for fuck's sake!

  His mouth twists slightly in amusement. "You know, when Kayla told me you were afraid of me, I called her silly. Why would someone I've never spoken to fear me, right?"

  If I just sit here and look mentally challenged, maybe he'll go away. I don't know what else to do. It's his fucking fault, anyway. For being so intimidating and illegally hot.

  "Dylan?" He knows
my name. Leaning forward, he grins faintly. "Blink."

  I blink. That asshole. I blink again, 'cause maybe my eyes suddenly got dry from the staring.

  Time to use actual words. "I'm not afraid." Shit, it worked. Well done, me.

  "Really. That’s good." He pulls out his phone and slides it my way as his screen comes to life. "Did you by any chance get a similar message from Kayla?"

  I inch forward automatically and read the message.

  Hi, Mr. Kingsley, this is the little love ninja. I'm so sorry, but I can't make it tonight. All I really wanted to say was that you should speak with Dylan. He has something to say to you, but he's shy. xoxoxoxo

  "Liam mentioned you've been stood up, too," he says.

  I sit back again, torn between anger and embarrassment. Mostly the latter. Kayla's obviously trying to set us up, but by doing so, she's going against my wishes. Which have been for her not to meddle.

  "I don't have anything to say," I tell him, ignoring my cheeks heating up. "Other than I hope Mr. Ford wallops her butt."

  Hard.

  Mr. Kingsley chuckles and tucks away his phone again. "Either way, I'm glad I got a moment with you. You've done a good job at avoiding me, and I just wanna know why."

  Oh, goddammit. How the hell can he even know that?

  "I haven't—"

  His severe look cuts me off. "Don't lie to me, boy."

  Crap. I snap my mouth shut and swallow nervously.

  The second his stare releases me, I look away and let out a breath. Funny how I couldn’t detect a heartbeat a minute ago. Now it's racing in my chest.

  "Dylan," he murmurs, "I've had my eyes on you since the first time I saw you in the club months ago. Every time I decide to come up and introduce myself, you disappear. So don't tell me you haven't purposely avoided me."

  He's noticed me? I can't help but perk up at that. Because wow. Holy fuck wow.

  "Have I offended you?" he wonders.

  Fuck, that’s the last thing I want him to think. "Absolutely not, Sir," I say, nearly tripping over my words as they rush out. "You're just very—" Fuck, fuckety, fuck. "Intimidating." I try, and probably fail, to be subtle when I eye his tatted arms. His black tee is stretched across a chest that knows manual labor.