Chapter 35 Not that I’m complaining…
Not that I’m complaining…
Delaney
“Oh my God, Lacy, it’s been amazing.”
“Damn girl. Dallas Fucking Kingston. That’s crazy. I knew it was going to happen though, I could tell he was into you. So tell me….” she paused as if I was supposed to already know what she was going to ask. “Is he good looking under that silly Ghostface mask of his?”
“Umm, well,” I stumbled over my words. “I actually haven’t…” My answer trailed off as I heard a loud squeal from Lacy.
“You mean he fucks in that mask too?! Holy. Shit. That is so damn sexy!” She spoke excitedly. If I were home she’d be sitting on her feet on the couch. I could picture it in my head.
“Okay, okay, so…your contract is for what, like, a week?”
“He asked for thirty days.” I said, worried about her blunt response that was no doubt on its way.
“Thirty days?! I’ve never even seen him take to a woman for more than a NIGHT! Thirty DAYS?” She got quiet for a few moments.
“Are you okay?” She asked softly, in complete contrast to the shrill yelping and cheering she was doing moments ago.
“Yes, I’m honestly great,” I responded to her concern frankly.
“Did…did you guys discuss safe words? I hope …” her soft voice trailed off as she asked with sincere concern behind her words.
“Yes, we discussed everything: hard boundaries, kinks, safe words, all of it…he’s been a real gentleman about the whole thing and answered every question, even the stupid ones.
” She quieted, I assumed evaluating whether I might be bluffing.
There was never getting anything past Lacy and her meticulous attention to detail.
“Has he taken you to his room at the club yet?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
“I’ve heard rumors about that room. Some of the most experienced Subs, with little to no hard limits ‘safe worded’ him in there.” She told this to me in an eerie tone, the kind of tone you use when you’re telling a scary story.
“Okay Lacy, I gotta go now,” I chuckled, letting her know indirectly that I was a big enough girl to hold my own with Mr. Dallas Kingston.
“You go girl, get back to your daddy,” she teased into the phone, “love you, be safe, and tell Dallas that if he hurts you, he’s got me to deal with,”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I turned to see Dallas scrolling on his phone. I half expected him to either be watching me or to have even joined me on the shore where I was kicking at the water aimlessly. I appreciated the privacy he gave me to speak to her.
“Everything cool?” He asked me when I returned salty and damp back to where he was waiting for me.
“Everything is cool, yes,” I said as I sat between his legs and instinctively laid back against his chest.
He wrapped his toned arms around my middle pulling me in closer to rest his chin on my head.
“It’s crazy to think about–” I started to say thoughtfully and almost to myself.
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“If I passed you on the street, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t even recognize you.”
He chuckled, squeezing me a little tighter before he spoke again.
“In a room of a thousand women, my eyes would only find you.”
I turned and smacked his shoulder, blushing from cheek to cheek.
“That’s not fair!”
His whole body shook with laughter.
* * *
We sat on the beach far beyond sunset. We talked about life, baseball and family. I could tell his family meant the world to him because when he spoke of them he was so happy, comfortable, and peaceful.
I shivered slightly, it was getting chilly out near the water with the night fall and the cold ocean breeze.
He noticed my lip started to quiver. I didn’t want to leave where we were at that moment, I wanted us to stay here as long as we could together, him wrapping his big arms around me to keep me warm.
Breaking through our romantic moment, my stomach growled. Immediately he was standing over me, offering me his hand.
“Get up you need food.” He stated matter of factly. Just
like that, Dom Daddy was back.
Not that I’m complaining…
We walked hand in hand, leaving behind everything on the beach. Like a man on a mission with long strides he walked quickly, I struggled to keep up with my short little legs.
When we got inside he stopped at the bar in the kitchen. He pulled out a stool. Without warning I let out an excited squeal when he lifted me as if I were as light as a feather and placed me on the seat, scooting me closer to reach the counter top.
He didn’t say a word as he focused fiercely on bringing all sorts of ingredients to the counter from the refrigerator.
There was a peaceful silence between us as I watched him meticulously cut potatoes into small chunks. He pulled out a skillet in one quick motion and poured a small amount of vegetable oil into it.
He added the potatoes to the heated skillet and the room filled with sounds of sizzling. I caught him looking up at me from where he stood over the cutting board but no words were spoken. It wasn’t awkward or uneasy, it just felt natural.
I tried to get up and help him but all he did was point to my chair and say, “you just sit there and look pretty.”
“Yes, Daddy,” was all I could say as he concentrated on preparing a meal for us.
It was strange for me because when I signed the contract to be his Sub, I had it in my mind that a Sub was to do anything for her Dom, but outside of the bedroom, he caters to me.
A balanced dynamic, I suppose? It was almost like a sort of aftercare that lasted the whole time we spent together between sessions.
I obey him in the bed and he rewards me with praise and attention.
I couldn’t tell exactly what he was preparing, but whatever it was smelled amazing.
* * *
My stomach growled one more time just as he sat a plate in front of me.
I was shocked to see it was potato hash, one of my favorite southern meals.
My mother used to make it for me when it had been a long day and she wanted to make something easy but filling.
My father was never a fan of the casserole-styled combo, so I always got seconds.
I smiled as I picked up my fork, doing a little happy dance in my seat.
A low chuckle rumbled from across the table before I realized I hadn’t even thanked him for cooking.
“Thank you for this, it’s one of my favorite foods.
” I said excitedly, waiting politely for him to take the first bite.
Proper table etiquette at least in the south, my momma used to always wait for my dad to take a bite first. I asked her about it once and she would only tell me that’s what her mother did.
It’s a sign of respect for the man of the house.
My mind started to spiral momentarily thinking of my parents and how much they loved each other when he spoke, “I know, you mentioned it once.” I squinted my eyes trying to recall when we had ever discussed food.
My mind went back to a cafe a couple of weeks ago when that handsome stranger had showed up at the right time.
“Go on, eat, sweetheart.” He redirected my focus assertively. I assumed he wanted to know if I liked the meal prepared.
I picked up my fork and pushed a bit of the cheesy potatoes onto it with a spoon. The steam rolled off of the cheese. I pressed my lips together, blowing out a small stream of cool air onto the food.
He watched my every move closely.
I shamefully devoured the entire plate. Every last bite.
When he offered me another serving I fought my craving for more.
“A man who can cook is a man that can have me,” I teased as I stood to clear our mess from the table.
He stood with me, picking up anything I missed.
As soon as my hand left the dishes from placing them on the counter, I was lifted in the air and thrown over his shoulder.
“Oh my God!” I screamed in surprise.
“I told you about that Delaney, now do I have to punish you?” He said in a teasing tone.
“What would that look like?” I countered. He took his hand and smacked my butt lightly as he marched keeping me slung over his broad shoulders down the hallway, towards his room.