Chapter 13
Teddy
I am halfway across the street, keys already in my hand and mind still replaying the morning’s acting class, when a sleek black sports car glides up beside me and stops.
The engine purrs like a contented predator and for a moment I’m filled with worry, even though I can’t explain why.
Then passenger window slides down smoothly and my fears are quietened.
Kirill is behind the wheel, one hand resting casually on the gear shift, looking every bit as commanding as he did on my living room floor.
“Get in the car, Teddy.”
His voice is low, calm, and leaves no room for argument. My heart does a ridiculous little flip. I should probably ask questions. I should at least pretend to hesitate. Instead, I find myself hurrying around to the passenger side and sliding into the buttery leather seat before I can overthink it.
The door clicks shut and we are moving almost instantly, pulling away from the curb with a smooth burst of power. The city blurs past as Kirill accelerates, weaving through traffic with effortless confidence. The engine’s deep growl vibrates through the seat and into my bones.
Wind whips my hair around my face even with the windows up.
It feels exhilarating — dangerous and thrilling all at once, like being swept up in something much bigger than my normal life.
I glance over at him, cheeks already warm. “Where are we going?”
Kirill’s eyes stay on the road, but the corner of his mouth lifts in the faintest hint of a smile. “It is a surprise, boy.”
That is all he gives me.
No explanation.
No teasing.
Just that calm, authoritative tone that makes my stomach flutter and my thighs press together. I settle back into the seat, heart racing, a giddy little smile tugging at my lips despite the nerves.
Being with Kirill always feels like stepping onto a rollercoaster I never bought a ticket for—scary, addictive, and impossible to get off once it starts moving.
We speed across the city, the tall buildings giving way to wider streets and then industrial areas.
I watch the scenery change, stealing glances at Kirill’s strong profile every few seconds.
He drives with quiet control, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift close enough that I could reach over and touch it if I dared.
Eventually we descend into an underground parking lot beneath what looks like a sleek, anonymous building. The lights are low and ambient. Kirill parks the sports car in a reserved spot and kills the engine. The sudden silence feels loud.
I turn to him, still buzzing from the ride.
“Okay, seriously, Kirill,” I say. “Where are we? What’s the plan?”
Kirill unbuckles his seatbelt and looks at me, eyes dark and intense. Before he can answer, I hold up a hand.
“Wait. I need to have a serious talk with you first,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
“I don’t know anything about you, Kirill.
Not really. You show up, you take control, you…
do things to me that make my head spin, and I keep saying yes because it feels incredible.
But I need to know more about you. About your life.
About what you actually do. I can’t keep jumping into cars and letting you surprise me if I don’t even know who you are. ”
He watches me for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he nods once.
“We will talk,” he says. “But first… some fun.”
Kirill reaches over and takes my hand, his grip warm and firm. The simple contact sends sparks racing up my arm. I let him lead me out of the car and across the parking garage to a private elevator. He swipes a black keycard and the doors open silently.
Inside, there are no floor buttons — just a single unmarked panel. The elevator rises smoothly and opens directly into what looks like a luxurious, hidden world.
Soft lighting, deep carpets, and the faint sound of playful laughter drift toward us. A well-dressed host greets us with a respectful nod.
“Mr. Antonov,” he says. “We’ve been expecting you, sir.”
Kirill inclines his head. “This is Teddy.”
The host smiles warmly at me. “Welcome, little one. We have a changing room prepared for you.”
Before I can ask what is happening, I am gently ushered into a beautiful dressing room.
Laid out on a velvet chaise is the cutest romper set I have ever seen—soft pastel purple with little white stars and clouds, thick padded bottom, and matching knee socks.
There is even a small pacifier clipped to the strap and a pair of fluffy bunny slippers.
My cheeks burn bright red, but the Little inside me is already squealing with delight. I change quickly, the soft fabric hugging my body in the most comforting way.
When I step back out, Kirill is waiting. His eyes darken with obvious approval as they sweep over me.
“You look perfect, malysh,” Alexsei murmurs.
Daddy takes my hand again and leads me through a set of double doors into the most incredible playroom I have ever seen.
The entire space has a space theme—deep navy walls with glowing constellations, soft foam flooring designed like cratered moon surfaces, climbing structures shaped like rockets, and a huge ball pit filled with silver and gold stars.
There are sensory tables with moon sand, dress-up stations with astronaut helmets and alien antennae, and cozy reading nooks with oversized pillows shaped like planets.
Kirill watches me with quiet amusement as my eyes go wide.
“Men like me need somewhere safe to play with their Littles,” Alexsei says simply. “No judgment. No questions. Just space to be who we are. The other city clubs are fine, but this place comes with a guarantee of privacy.”
I do not know what to say.
The mix of luxury, safety, and pure playful joy makes my chest feel tight in the best way.
Kirill leads me over to the ball pit first. We tumble in together, laughing as the shiny stars bounce around us. He chases me gently through the foam structures, letting me “escape” only to catch me and swing me around.
We build a rocket ship out of giant foam blocks and then knock it down in a fit of giggles.
I color a picture of us flying through space on a big easel while he watches, occasionally adding a careful star or planet when I ask.
Time loses all meaning. I drop deeper into Little space than I have in months—maybe ever.
Kirill is patient and attentive, guiding me from one activity to another without ever making me feel rushed or silly.
When I start yawning, he guides me to one of the cozy reading nooks, settles me against his chest, and hands me a warm bottle of milk.
I suckle sleepily, eyes growing heavier with every sip. The last thing I remember is Kirill’s hand gently stroking my hair and his low voice murmuring, “Good boy.”
* * *
I wake up slowly, warm and content, still curled against Kirill’s chest. The playroom is quieter now. My Daddy helps me up, straightens my slightly rumpled romper, and leads me back to the changing room so I can put my normal clothes back on.
Back in the underground parking lot, the real world feels a little sharper. I take a deep breath and turn to face him.
“That was… amazing,” I say. “I want to go back again soon. But now… it’s time to have the conversation.”
“Right,” Kirill says. His expression turns serious.
He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I am a man who makes difficult decisions, Teddy. I have to do things that most people would call bad. Dangerous things. Some would say unforgivable things. I cannot tell you more than that. Not for my safety, and especially not for yours. My life will never be safe or normal. You must understand and accept this if we are to continue.”
His words land heavily.
I stand there, arms wrapped around myself, feeling the glow from the playroom slowly fade.
Part of me wants to say yes immediately—to throw caution to the wind and keep chasing this magical, terrifying connection.
But another part, the sensible, small-town part that still remembers how hard life can get, feels a flicker of real fear.
“I… need to think about it,” I say quietly. “Yeah. I definitely need to think.”
“As you wish,” Kirill replies, his voice neutral and difficult to read.
The drive back to my apartment is silent. I stare out the window, mind whirling with questions I do not know how to ask and answers I am not sure I am ready for. When we pull up outside my building, I turn to him.
“Thank you for today,” I whisper. I lean over and kiss him softly on the cheek. “The play date was really special.”
Kirill catches my hand before I can pull away completely. His thumb brushes over my knuckles once, gentle but possessive.
“Take the time you need,” he says. “But know this, malysh… I am not a man who waits forever.”
I nod, throat tight, and slip out of the car.
As I watch the sleek sports car disappear down the street, I feel more confused and conflicted than ever.
My body still remembers every touch from the floor of my apartment. My Little side still hums with happiness from the playroom.
But my head… my head is spinning with warnings.
Who is Kirill Antonov, really?
And how much of myself am I willing to risk to find out?