Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
“P atrick will bring up the food.” I point at the door. “When he rings, look through the peephole and ask him to identify himself.” I stepped backwards to put some distance between us. My sweatpants could only conceal so much. Staring into her beautiful brown eyes made my cock ache.
“Why doesn’t he just come in? You know him.” She shrugged.
“Because, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” I turned back to stare at her. “A good habit to start.”
“Okay.” She didn’t believe me. Yet, somehow, I knew she would still obey.
“Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch for when the food arrives?” I point to the remote on the coffee table.
She salutes and puts her hands behind her back.
“Good girl.”
I headed toward my room.
“Why do you do that?” I turned back. The sassy attitude dropped, and she looked down at her feet.
“Do what?”
“Call me little Ninja and Rayn Drop, and good girl” She walked back to the window. “Earlier you called me a brat?”
“Why do you think?”
She shrugged.
“How about we talk about it over dinner?” I walk back over to her and lift her chin. “Okay?”
She nods and hugs herself.
I rub her cheek. I want to kiss her. Pull her into me. Press her up against the window and feel her small frame against me. When I held her last night, she had weighed nothing. I had imagined holding her with one arm, while exploring her tight frame with my other hand. Pinning her in place and touching her everywhere. She would feel so soft against me.
She tilted her head up farther. Her eyes hooded, her bottom lip quivered. She wanted me to kiss her, but it would have to wait.
We had to have a discussion first, and from the flush of her cheeks, her mind was clouded by lust.
My brain was in the same place. Instead of giving in I turned and headed into my room. A cold shower would clear my head and help me regain some semblance of control.
* * *
Every part of my Daddy Dom side had awakened since she literal stumbled into my life. Feelings I had tapped way down for years suddenly rose to the surface. For a man who thrives on control, Rayna challenged every hard inch of it, and I didn’t mind one bit. She had already wormed her way into my fantasy life. Evidence by the way I gripped my cock in the shower. My mind filled with images of Rayna. Her long fingers wrapped firmly around my shaft, moved up and down with the right amount of pressure. Her coconut scent surrounded me as I peered down at her pouty lips. I groaned and gripped harder as her little tongue tasted me, massaging the underside of my length. My innocent little girl had expert skills. My little Rayna was smart, she probably did her research.
I imagine her watching porn to learn how to get me off. The thought pushed me over the edge.
Like this, Daddy? She would ask before I blew my load into her mouth. Some of it would dribble down her chin and land on her perfect tits, marking her as mine.
My sweet Rayna.
“Fuck.” My eyes blinked open and disappointment flooded my senses. My own cock laid heavy and limp in my own hand. And Rayna was in the other room. With my bodyguard.
I jumped out of the shower, dried off and dressed in dark jeans and a brown long sleeve Henley in record time. I couldn’t wait to get back to her.
The doorbell rang.
“Identify yourself!” She yelled.
Brat. But she was my good girl. I knew she’d do what she was told.
I stepped out of my room and pushed my sleeves up.
“Just leave the tray there.” I motioned toward and head to the bar and pour myself two fingers of scotch. Rayna’s glaring eyes made me pause.
She motioned toward Patrick with a head nod.
“Thanks man.”
A toothy grin spread across Rayna's face.
Patrick scoffed and shook his head. “You two have a good night.” He scurried back out the door.
“Bye. Bye.” Rayna called after him and waved.
“What would you like to drink, Rayna?” She turned on her heels to face me.
“White wine, please.” She pulled her shoulders back, but her thumb and finger flicked against each other. It was her tell for sure, but I’d need to spend more time with her to decipher what it meant.
I narrowed my eyes.
“What?” She skipped over toward me. “I’m twenty-two. I can drink.”
“I think you had enough from last night.”
She cringed. “You’re probably right.” She held her chin in her hand and looked at the sky.
“The fridge in the kitchen should be fully stocked with sodas and juice. Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” She smirked.
I took my drink back over to the coffee table and sat it down.
Rayna approached with a glass of ice and a can of ginger ale. Her eyes grew wide, and a silly grin spread across her face.
“It smells amazing.” Rayna lowered herself to the ground between the couch and the coffee table and tucked a napkin into the collar of her shirt. Her eyes scanned the tray before settling on the pile of greasy, hot fries. She grabbed one and dipped it in the ranch dressing and the ketchup before putting it in her mouth. “Mmh. Yummy.” Her attention went to the burger next. It was bigger than her head. She gripped it with both hands, dipped it in ranch, leaned in with elbows out, mouth wide open, and took a bite. Ranch dressing dribbled down her chin.
“Oh, my god.” Her groans were orgasmic.
I chuckled.
“What so funny?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone enjoy a burger quite so much.” I stole one of her French fries and moved over to the couch.
“You want to know the secret?” Rayna motioned for me to lean in. “It’s the ranch dressing. Good ranch dressing could make an old leather shoe taste good.” Her fingers reached for a fry, dipped it in the ranch, and brought to my mouth. I took a bite, staring into her eyes. They grew wide and her cheek flushed pink. My little girl was turned on. She popped the other end in her mouth and grinned.
“Good right?”
“Yep.” I licked my lips.
The blush spread from her chest down her neck and to her chest. I resisted the urge to peak under the napkin to see how far it went. She quickly turned her attention back to her food, alternating between bites of burger, sweet potato fries and skinny fried. All drenched in copious amounts of ranch dressing.
I feared what would happen if she ran out.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She motioned toward my untouched dinner. My typical grilled chicken and vegetables had no appeal. Watcher her eat was a lot more nourishing to my soul.
“I’ll get to it.”
“I’m making a spectacle of myself.” Rayna wiped her mouth with the napkin and sat it on her lap. She frowned and looked away.
“Who told you that?”
“What?”
“That you’re making a spectacle of yourself.” I shift back and faced her.
“My grandmother.” The smile returned. “She used to always say that to me, and I thought it was a compliment until I actually looked up the word.”
“Maybe she did, mean it as a compliment. Some people like spectacles.” I sipped my drink.
“Do you like spectacles?” She lowered her head and peered up at me with those bright brown eyes. Anticipating my answer like the little she was trying to pretend not to be.
“I think I do.” I pulled her ponytail. She pushed my hand away, going back to eating her fries. She was doing it to avoid talking, I suspect. I wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She had asked the question; it was time for me to answer.
“You asked me earlier why I speak to you the way I do?”
She nodded, but didn’t look at me.
“I guess because you make me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.” I reached out my hand. “Come sit up here next to me.”
She wiped her hands on the napkin again, retrieved her legs from beneath the table, and sat up on the couch.
“You bring out a side of me I thought I had buried forever.”
“What side is that?” She whispered.
“My nurturing side.” I lifted her chin. She blinked. “My Daddy Dom side.”
Her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t look away. She flicked her index finger against her thumb, swallowing, and leaning to her side on the couch. Her finger and thumb thumped away. I grabbed her hand.
“Do you know what a Daddy Dom is?” I tilted my head to catch her gaze.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“And so, you know, my Daddy Dom side doesn’t usually come out unless there’s a little that needs me.” I sat my drink on the coffee table.
Her eyes couldn’t get any wider, but then they narrowed. She pulled her hand away.
“Are you not a little, Rayna?” I leaned forward.
She opened her mouth.
“Please be honest with me.” I rubbed her knee. “I am being honest with you.”
She sighed, reach out for another fry, dipped it in the ranch and ate it. A stall tactic, that left ranch dressing dripping down her fingers. I resisted the urge to lick them clean. Instead, I handed her a napkin. “Are you ashamed of your little side?”
“No.” she whispered but wouldn’t look at me. She meticulously wiped each finger clean, one by one.
“Tell me about her.” I squeezed her knee. “How old is she?”
“She’s not little.”
“Okay.” I rubbed my beard. “She a middle then?”
“She’s not little all the time.” She nodded, “Yeah, but definitely middle in the ten to thirteen range.”
“Is she bratty and mischievous?”
“No, she’s sweet. But — “
“But what?” I encourage her to continue.
“I think she can get in trouble every once in a while.” She shrugged. “If anyone was around to notice.”
“You’ve never had a Daddy before?” I narrowed my eyes.
“No,” she shook her head vigorously. Her ponytail flopped from side to side.
“Have you shared your little side with anyone?”
She shook her head again. I placed my hand on her cheek.
“I’d like it if you shared here with me.” She leaned into my hand. “I meant it when I said you are safe here. Safe to be however you want to be.”
“Have you had a little girl before?” She pulled my hand away from her face but rested it on her thigh.
“I have.” She dropped my hand. “I have been in three relationships with littles. But not in the last four years.”
“Why so long ago?” She rocked herself on the couch.
“I wasn’t in a position in my life to care for a little like I wanted to. We were together for two years. She had just hit her confidence as a little girl. She felt safe to regress, sometimes without me, but when I took over my family's business, I had to put all my energy into it and before I let her feel neglected as my little, I ended things.” I regretted the way things ended with my former little. Ending it with her was the hardest conversation of my life and the devastation in her eyes when she walked out of my life still haunted me.
“Oh,” Rayna blanked. “You abandoned her?” Her lower lip quivered.
Rayna couldn’t have known, but she just plunged a dull serrated knife smack dab into the hole of my deepest and most painful wound.
I abruptly stood from the couch and took my dinner into the kitchen. She followed close on my heels caring her plate with the half-eaten burger. She made a mad dent in the fries.
“I’m sorry, Kyler.” She sat the plate on the counter. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Yeah, you did.” I faced her. “Remember, no lying.”
“Okay, but I didn’t mean to say it so blunt like that. It was . . .” She searched for the term.
“Bratty.” I leaned back onto the counter.
“No.” She grabbed my arm. “It was mean. I’m just nervous talking about that side of me.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’m not your typical little.” She looked down. “Not like the ones I read about in books.”
“There’s no one right way to be a little.” I shrugged. “You’re little won’t ever get to fully come out if you’re not being yourself.”
“You’re last little. What was she like? What did she like to do?” She hugged herself. “How old was she?”
“She was six.” I smiled.
Rayna pursed her lips flat. Her thumb and forefinger flicked uncontrollably. Was my little girl jealous?
“She like to dress up in cute frilly outfits and give me fashion shows.” I went back into the living room. “She played with dolls and had a collection of stuffies that took up her entire crib. She would say she had to pay attention to all of them at least once per day or they would get jealous . . .” I cleaned up the rest of our dinner and placed them on the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. Rayna remained in the kitchen.
I tried not to react to the scowl on her face, but it amused me.
“What’s wrong, Rayna?” I slid the tray across the counter.
“Is that the kind of little you like?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“What does it matter?” I placed my hands on the counter and leaned toward her.
She stepped back.
“I’m not that kind of little at all.”