Chapter 27 Cat-O’-Nine-Tails for the Cat Daddy #2
It really is a toss-up. She’s not good at either of them, apparently. With the kids, there’s a lot of wincing and heavy breathing
and some audible gasps.
Apparently she’s the same way at the sex shop the moment she presses a button on a display item and jumps when it starts vibrating
in her hand.
“Find anything interesting?” I whisper in her ear and delight over how she shivers at my proximity.
“You know... Cozy threw me a bachelorette party, and I got a few sex toy items, but they just collected dust for years
until I threw them away.”
“That’s sad.”
“Is it?” Dakota asks, eyeing me curiously. “Are sex toys needed at the beginning of a marriage? Isn’t that when things are supposed to be easy?”
“Are sex toys hard?”
She holds up a giant purple dildo the size of my arm, and I laugh.
“I just think it seems like if you need these items at the beginning of a relationship, then maybe you’re doing something
wrong. Wouldn’t most guys get offended if I say I need to add a vibrator to the bedroom?”
“I look at toys as teammates, not competition,” I reply, propping myself on a shelf full of lube. “They just add a level of
excitement and variety. They encourage open communication as you navigate the toy and figure out what works and doesn’t work.
They can prolong a sexual experience and help you bond with your partner.”
“You really do fucking read!” She puffs out a noise of disbelief, and I frown, feeling wounded.
“It’s audiobooks if that makes it any more believable.”
“You know... it actually does.” She smiles and turns to grab a flogger off the shelf, her fingers touching the leather
before she slaps it onto her palm. “Sex toys just seem super intimate to use with someone you just met. How does all that
open communication not make you catch feelings?”
“It’s the open communication that keeps the feelings in check. I’m always crystal clear with my partners what this is. And
not all of the women I sleep with are one-night stands.”
“They’re not?” Dakota’s head snaps to attention.
“No. I have some repeat customers.”
Her nose wrinkles.
“I just don’t repeat them too close together. If I sleep with a woman multiple times within a couple weeks, that’s when things
get dicey.”
She nods and chews her lip. “Fascinating.”
“Okay, five more minutes of browsing, then pick your item, and let’s get out of here.”
“Okay, boss.”
I stop in my tracks and turn to look at her. “Am I in charge again?”
She rolls her eyes. “As long as it doesn’t go to your head, you can have a little control.”
I shoot her a wicked smirk. “Oh, Ace... you really shouldn’t have said that.”
Dakota is on her third orgasm from this vibrator I bought for her, and my dick is so fucking hard it hurts. She’s spread out
naked on my bed, her body covered in a sheen of sweat as I lick and nip at her breasts, lapping them up like a starved animal.
Her needy clit is raw from the sucking action of the device I grabbed for her.
I did my research before we went into the sex store. I read reviews, I found out what women like... and I have not been
disappointed.
How can any man ever be threatened by a bedroom toy? Watching their woman orgasm is a fucking gift. Plus, sex can be exhausting.
A helping hand here and there is just good business.
“No more,” she moans and presses her legs together, rolling over on her side. “I need a break. I need water. I need...”
she breathes heavily “...a hug.”
I laugh and set the vibrator on the side table before wrapping myself around Dakota’s trembling body. She rolls toward me
and tucks herself into my arms, laying her head on my chest as I pull the sheet up over our naked bodies.
“Is this okay?” she asks after she’s caught her breath.
“Is what okay?”
“Cuddling.” She hits me with a curious look. “Cuddling wasn’t on your PowerPoint, and I expect you haven’t cuddled with many
of your conquests.”
I roll my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. “When are we going to stop making assumptions about each other?”
“Oh, come on!” She pokes me in the ribs and moves to sit up, pulling the sheet up over her chest to sit crisscross facing me. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you cuddle every woman you’ve slept with and whisper sweet nothings into their ears as they fall asleep in your strong, inky arms.”
I hit her with a flat stare. “It happens.”
“How many times?”
My brows lift. “Doesn’t happen a lot, but—”
“See!” She points an accusing finger at me. “I knew it.”
“You know nothing,” I grouse and sit up to prop myself against my wooden headboard, propping my legs up to conceal the tent
I’m pitching. “That’s why we’re doing this whole thing. Remember? Now, come on... talk about what you liked.”
She groans and covers her face with both her hands. After we hooked up in front of my fire the other night, I forced Dakota
to talk through everything she liked and didn’t like. The only way she’s going to come out of this little experiment with
some good takeaways is if she talks. “Reflecting helps give you confidence, and that’s what you’re looking for, so let’s hear
it.”
She sighs and crawls over me to retrieve a bottle of water on the nightstand. She takes a few long swigs before pulling it
down and dabbing at her lips. “Clitoral orgasms are different than vaginal.”
I have to stifle my laugh. “How so?”
She shakes her head and shrugs. “The clit ones are like sparky and surface-level. Like getting burned by a pan.”
“And vaginal?”
Her lips curl up. “Those are like deeper and more robust. They feel like sinking into a warm bath.” Her eyes partially shut
and her face relaxes.
“I take it you like the vaginal ones better?”
She shakes her head and giggles. “Nah... I like ’em all.”
I chuckle, feeling a bit smug over how happy she looks. Far different than the woman who walked with me in the woods the other
day, revealing her past relationship trauma.
“Are there different types of orgasms for men?”
My lips curve down. “In a way. It more just varies from intensity. When I come for the first time in a day, it’s always stronger and more intense than if I come for a second or third time in one day.”
Dakota’s eyes widen. “Do you have multiple orgasms in a day very often?”
“Do you?” I prop my hands behind my head and watch her curiously. She looks like a kid in a candy store, just discovering
what sugar is.
“I’ve had two, but never three.” She points to the bed indicating what I just did to her.
“Well, good. We can add this accomplishment to the PowerPoint.”
She nods and smiles. “We are overachievers.”
“But to answer your question, multiple orgasms in a day for guys is different. It’s easier for us I think.”
“What’s the most orgasms you’ve had in a day?”
Shit, she’s playing hardball. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because you’re going to call me a pig.”
“You don’t know that.”
I exhale. “I’ve had five.”
“Five?” Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Holy shit... five? With who? That Robyn girl?”
“No,” I snap, hating even the mention of her name. “You don’t know her.”
“I might know her.”
“I don’t even know her,” I reply with a laugh.
Dakota’s face falls. “The five-orgasm woman wasn’t worth a second look?”
I shake my head. “It was years ago. A one-night stand with a woman in Denver. We never spoke again.”
“That’s sad. Why wouldn’t you even consider seeing her again if the sex was that good?”
“Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone,” I answer firmly. “No matter how good the sex is.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.” My voice takes on a sharper tone than I intended, but I’m trying to be clear.
She watches me intently for a moment. “What is it that makes you so certain you don’t want a relationship? I’m not asking
for myself, I’m just asking for research. Did this Robyn person really mess with you?”
“No... Jesus. You’re breaking the damn rules right now. We’re not supposed to be talking about our past relationships.”
She shrugs. “I like to know things.”
I take a moment and exhale. “I’m not serious enough to be serious with anyone.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just ask my family. I’m the one always screwing things up, causing problems, ruffling feathers. I couldn’t ever provide for
a wife and kids either. My entire life is by default.”
“What does that mean?”
“My job? Got it because of my dad. My house? Got it because of Wyatt. My best friends? They’re my brothers. They are genetically
forced to hang with me.”
Dakota frowns over at me. “That’s a sad way to look at your life.”
It’s not sad when it’s accurate and confirmed by everyone around me. Even Dakota would agree as she’s the one who pegged me
with the Killer Calder nickname.
“How would you look at it?” I ask, frowning over at her.
“You live in a beautiful cabin on a secluded mountain with people you actually like, and you get to work with your best friends
every day, and you have a cat who watches us have sex.”
“I know, but I didn’t earn any of it. Even Milkshake was kind of forced on me by Trista.”
“So then, do something on your own. Something you can earn without anyone else.”
“How?”
“What do you want to do with your life? What’s your dream job?”
I laugh and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m locked into the family business.”
“So? You can have a side gig.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no time. Wyatt has us building smart houses all over town, and I’m the trained monkey that does all the grunt
work, so I put up or shut up. My brothers would laugh in my face if I tried to tell them I wanted to break out on my own.
And my mom would be heartbroken if I abandoned the legacy my father left behind.”
She remains quiet for a moment, watching me speculatively. “But isn’t that pile of gorgeous furniture in your workshop kind
of your father’s legacy as well?”
The impact of her words hits me right in my gut. I’m actually shocked that she’s tied that hobby of mine so closely to my
dad. I know I revealed a fair amount to her that day in my shop, but I didn’t really share everything.
The truth is, I feel closer to my dad when I’m working out there. Even though he never stepped foot in that shed I built,
I can feel him there with me when I work. I hear his laugh, and him bitching at me to sand with the grain of the wood, not
against. He’d growl at me if I used the wrong vise for a softer wood. He really did teach me everything I know.
How did she read so much into that?
I shift awkwardly in the bed. “I guess I might have started designing the furniture pieces because of him, but it’s not like it’s easy to make a business out of it.
Not all of us are entrepreneur badasses like you.
” She rolls her eyes like she doesn’t believe me, so I con tinue.
“Having a brick-and-mortar store in downtown Boulder for over a decade is nothing to sneeze at, you know.”
“I know,” she replies with a funny smile and then covers her face to add, “I’m actually getting an award.”
“You are?” I pull her hands down to get a look at her. There’s a red flush to her cheeks and she’s biting her lip in an adorably
shy way.
“It’s just the Best of Boulder business award. It’s like a committee-voted thing. There’s this fancy dinner and award ceremony
I have to go to. It’s not really that big a deal.”
“Bullshit, that sounds fucking awesome. Congratulations.”
Her nose wrinkles as she squirms under my praise. “Thank you.”
I’m a bit awestruck. My dad started the construction business, and my brothers and I practically got it handed to us. Wyatt
morphed into the visionist, and Luke became the brains behind the operation. I’m just the brawn. So to see Dakota do so much
all on her own is fucking wild.
“You really are kind of inspiring, though. You’ve been running your own business since college. That’s so unheard of.”
“I got lucky.”
I chuck a pillow at her, and she shoots me an offended look. “You worked hard, and you earned that shit.”
“Fine. I worked hard, and I earned that shit.” She smirks and then squints at me for a moment, pondering something. “Hey,
would you let me list your pieces on my website maybe?”
“What? Why?”
She shrugs. “Because I get a shitload of traffic, and it would take my web developer less than an hour to get them posted.
We could price them really high just to see if we get any bites.”
“I don’t know...”
“Why not? What do you have to lose? They’re just collecting dust out there as they are anyways, and that’s a shame. Because
they’re really beautiful.”
I make a noise of contempt in the back of my throat, but I will admit it’s getting annoying having to shove stuff up in the rafters to make room. And my dad would be giving me so much shit for how cluttered my shop is. Maybe there’s no harm in trying to sell a few.
“All we have to do is go out to your shop, snap a few pics, you write down some of the details of the pieces like type of
wood, finish, et cetera, and I’ll send it all off to my guy. Easy-peasy.”
I feel myself giving in. Dakota is fun to watch when she’s like this. I can see her brain churning with a plan and actionable
items she can check off another damn list.
“We do this, and then I’ll show you the sex toy I picked out,” she offers, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at me. “A little
work before a little reward.”
“If it’s that big purple dildo, I’m going to take a hard pass on it all.”
“It’s not the dildo.” She laughs and leans over the bed and the sound of a rustling bag draws my eyes. When she pulls out
a leather whip with nine braided tails on it, her smile turns devious. “Cat ’o nine tails for the cat daddy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. This woman is going to be the death of me.