Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
O ne of the many reasons she liked Remy was that she felt like she could be open and be herself with him, but he also understood the value of discretion. Being an audiobook narrator meant he had fans, and some of them could be kinda creepy. Like they felt entitled to information about Kingston’s life, and in some cases his attention. Which was why there might be photos of Jeremy Watson on his website, but there were no pictures to be found on Kingston Rockwood’s.
So when, a few weeks into their relationship, he’d asked her to go to Hive, a kink club in Clover City, he’d easily accepted her request to wear a disguise of sorts. Not that most people would recognize her without Cabot standing in front of her, but she didn’t really feel like taking the chance. Plus, it was fun to dress up even more than usual.
For tonight, Daddy had put her in her sexy kitten outfit—some black thigh-high stockings, no undies, a black velvet garter belt with a matching demi bra, an underbust corset, and a fluffy tutu skirt. She was about ready to burst from being turned on already, and he still had more things for her.
Her stomach was all butterflies at the same time as her heart felt steady and calm, and she was probably leaving a wet spot on the towel Daddy had put down on her vanity chair. She felt so spoiled that he’d taken the time to give her a spa-worthy manicure and pedicure, painting her nails the softest shimmery pink, and now he was brushing out her hair. Even though she’d been far closer to American royalty as Cabot’s wife, with the Foster-Webb name marking her as part of a great political dynasty, she’d never felt as much like a princess as she did at this moment.
“There’s my gorgeous Duchess,” he told her, using her kitten name. “No more tangles in this pretty hair of yours.”
She felt like a kitty as he stroked her hair. When he put a big, warm hand to her cheek, she leaned into his palm. She’d never felt as much like she belonged.
“Now Daddy’s going to put this up in braids, so it doesn’t get in the way of all the wicked plans I have for you tonight,” he told her, catching her gaze in the mirror and holding it as he grabbed a handful of her hair at the roots and twisted, pulling her scalp taut and making her moan.
How had so many of the things she’d hated as a kid, like her hair being pulled and nap time, turned into such favorites? Then again, playground bullies had never pulled her hair like this.
Indeed, Nuala barely recognized herself in the mirror from even a month ago. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips full and parted instead of pressed into a thin line, and her eyes were bright and wide open. It was so easy to let Remy inside of her in so many ways, and she was embarrassed to find herself wondering if he’d make her feel this good forever.
Sure, they’d known each other for years, but that was as neighbors, and ones who only lived next door part-time and didn’t talk much at that. How could she think about forever with this man? He’d probably tire of her, especially when she started showing her age more and he was still young, and then got to look distinguished in that way men did.
But maybe. Maybe. He sure made her feel like he intended this to be forever.
Remy’s eyes were kind and dangerous at the same time as he wrapped his other hand around her throat. Not to choke, but to hold, and she could feel the contained power behind her, waiting to be flexed and unleashed on her. It made her shiver.
“Say ‘yes, Daddy.’”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, and then swallowed. “Please, Daddy.”
“Oh, there’s my pretty kitty with her nice manners. You’re going to be my sweet little kitten tonight, aren’t you Nono?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she agreed.
“Good girl. Now let’s get this hair done up, finish getting you dressed, and get on the road.”
Remy pulled his jeep into a spot in the crowded parking lot and then reached over to squeeze Nuala’s thigh. She looked so goddamn fine that people had honked at him at a couple lights. He’d been so taken by her that he hadn’t noticed when they changed from red to green. The black velvet cat ears with the pink rhinestones were stunning on his Little Duchess. Such a sweet kitty.
“You ready, Nono?” he asked, studying her face.
She did look nervous, but that was okay. A little tension, some anticipation, never hurt anyone. If anything, they could make a person feel more, and he wanted to make Nuala feel so many things tonight. Mostly like she was his, and he was trustworthy. A few orgasms and maybe some pain to get her system flooded with endorphins would be good too. To be completely honest, he wanted to give this woman everything, but he’d settle for what she’d allow him for now and earn the rest.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s fair. Looks like it’ll be busy tonight, so that’s good. It’ll offer more anonymity, let us get lost in the crowd.”
Nono nodded.
“Just a few things before we go inside.”
She blinked those round eyes of hers, looking every inch the curious kitten he’d dressed her up to be.
“Number one: You don’t leave my side. If you need something, including if you want to go home, you ask. Number two: This is supposed to be fun. I know you’re anxious, but you need to give it a shot. If you can’t relax and enjoy yourself, we’ll leave. Maybe we’ll try again another time. But your feelings are more important than a night out, understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. A couple reminders: No real names, just Duchess and Daddy. Anyone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me right away. You follow all my instructions and show me what a good, obedient kitten you can be. Following instructions doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to ask questions. Ask away.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“And a few final things.”
He reached into the backseat of the jeep and pulled out a soft, silky bag. Nono looked at it but didn’t reach for it or ask any questions. She was a patient Little girl so much of the time, which bothered him. He felt like it was a remnant of her marriage to Cabot when she was expected to act like a lady—whatever the fuck that meant—not ask questions, and not do anything so inconvenient as having feelings.
It was a funny thing to wish for, since so many caregivers spent a ton of time trying to get their Littles to be more patient. But that was one of his goals—to get Nuala to feel like she could really be Little, and he’d still love her even if she was naughty sometimes.
Remy opened the drawstring and pulled out the contents of the bag. He almost chuckled when out of the corner of his eye he could see Nuala’s lips part. She was interested, all right. And she should be.
He separated out the pieces and laid them over the center console.
“Cuffs and a collar for my pretty kitty,” he told her, his heart beating faster as he waited for her reaction.
He didn’t have to wait long. There was a blur of black, and then it felt like the life was being crushed out of him. In a nice way.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Nono said from where her face was buried in his neck. “Thank you, they’re so pretty.”
He’d tried to walk a line between sparkly—because what Little girl didn’t like sparkles—and not too gaudy, because Nuala was still kind of uptight. When he’d seen the super pale pink restraints with the sandy glitter, he’d thought they were just the thing and apparently Nono agreed.
“You’re welcome, Little girl,” he told her, returning her hug and rubbing her back.
It seemed to him that, for as rich as those Foster-Webbs were, Nuala had never actually had what she wanted. All the more ways for him to spoil her and show her how cherished she was.
“Let’s get these buckled on. Daddy can’t wait to see you wear them.”
Her smile when she pulled away was almost blinding in the dark parking lot, and he enjoyed the hell out of circling her slim wrists and fastening the buckles so they were snug. The collar would be even more fun, but he wanted to show her something first.
“Did you read the tag?”
Her pink-glossed mouth turned down at the corners, and she reached for the heart that was dangling from the D ring on the collar. She picked it up and smiled as she read, “Duchess.”
“Turn it over,” he instructed with a tip of his chin.
Her smile got bigger and her cheeks darkened as she read off, “Daddy’s Little Kitten.”
“Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best, I love them.”
“And I love you,” he told her with a tap to the tip of her nose.
It’s not that he’d expected her to say it back—Nuala was still far too buttoned up for that—but the silence between them was deafening. He put both of them out of their misery by taking the collar from her and buckling it around her neck.
Remy wasn’t an ownership kind of guy. Nuala was her own person, and the notion of a person being property made him sick. Even in a kink context, it squicked him out. But damn if there wasn’t something about his Little girl wearing a collar, belonging to him and with him, and the notion that she’d always find her way back if she got lost. That, he was in for.