Chapter 8
Marcus
I woke with a start, Lucy's scent lingering on my pillow. Memories of last night flooded back—her soft skin under my hands, the vulnerability in her eyes, that unexpected kiss that left me reeling. My heart raced as I replayed it all.
Was I crazy to feel this way? The age gap nagged at me. I was too old, too jaded. But damn, I hadn't felt this alive in years. Spanking her had been the single most exciting thing that I’d done in years—maybe the most exciting thing I’d ever done.
After she’d gone to bed last night, I spent hours online, researching DDlg relationships and BDSM contracts. If there was any chance of anything happening between us, I wanted to make sure that we kept things transparent and honest.
It hadn’t been hard to find a contract template. I’d taken some time to personalise it, but I needed Lucy’s input to finish it off. I hoped she’d want to look at it with me.
I shook my head. Maybe I was crazy for thinking she’d actually want a relationship with me. Probably. I pulled myself out of bed, mind still swirling. Needed coffee to sort through this mess.
The aroma hit me halfway down the stairs. Toast too. And . . . humming?
Lucy stood at the counter, swaying slightly as she poured two mugs. She turned, flashing that megawatt smile. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning," I managed, suddenly self-conscious in my ratty t-shirt and bed head. "Didn’t expect you to be up already. You didn't have to do all this."
She shrugged, pushing a mug my way. "Least I could do after last night.” Was that a blush on her cheeks? “Did you sleep okay?"
I nodded, sipping the perfectly brewed coffee. "Like a rock. You?"
"Mmm, eventually." Yep. She was definitely blushing. "Had a lot on my mind."
Join the club, I thought.
We settled at the small kitchen table, an easy silence falling between us. I watched her spread jam on her toast, struck by how natural this felt. Like we'd done it a hundred times before.
"So," Lucy said finally. "About last night . . ."
My stomach clenched. Here it comes. The regret, the backpedaling.
But she just smiled softly. "I had a really nice time. Like, really nice."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Me too. I just . . . I hope I didn't overstep."
Lucy reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "You didn't. At all. In fact, I kept thinking that there was one more step I wished we’d take."
Electricity shot through me at her touch. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to feel her lips on mine again. But doubt crept in.
"Lucy, I'm not sure this is a good idea. The age difference . . ."
She rolled her eyes. "Marcus, I'm a grown woman. I know my own mind."
"I know, I know. It's just . . . people will talk. And I don't want to hold you back or—"
Lucy cut me off, leaning in close. "Let them talk. I don't give a damn what anyone thinks. Do you?"
I hesitated. Did I? The town gossips would have a field day. But looking into those green eyes, I realized I didn't care either. In that moment, I knew that I’d feel proud to have people talk about us, not ashamed.
"No," I said finally. "I don't. Not even a little bit."
Her smile could have lit up the room. We finished breakfast, laughing and talking like old friends. But underneath it all, a current of electricity hummed between us.
Whatever this was, wherever it led . . . I was all in.
As we cleared the breakfast dishes, Lucy glanced at me thoughtfully. "You know, I'd like to repay you for all you've done," she began, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Maybe I could help out at the hardware store today? I don’t know anything about DIY, but I can use a till. Or I can just restock shelves if that’s useful? Whatever you need."
My heart skipped a beat. The idea of spending more time with her was tempting as hell, but alarm bells rang in my head. Was this moving too fast? Blurring lines we shouldn't cross?
"That's really kind of you to offer," I said carefully. "But you know you don't owe me anything, Lucy."
She rolled her eyes. "I know that, Marcus. I just kinda want to help. It’s fun! Besides," she added with a mischievous grin, "it'll give me a chance to see you in action. Mr. Hardware Store Owner."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, alright. If you're sure."
"I'm sure," she said firmly.
Twenty minutes later, I opened up the store. The familiar jingle of the bell above the door welcomed us, but today everything felt different. Lucy was by my side, her presence both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
I’d always kept the store small, resisting the urge to take on staff. Didn’t like the idea of being responsible for the livelihoods of others. I always just shut the store when I couldn’t work. Everyone in town knew me, and I’d leave my cell number on the door. It would be strange having someone else working with me today.
"So, where do you want me to start, boss?" Lucy asked, her green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand and not how beautiful she looked in the soft store lighting, and how weirdly good it felt to have her call me “boss”. "Let's, uh, start with inventory. I'll show you the system."
As I led her to the back office, I couldn't shake the feeling that today was going to be a day unlike any other at Wilkins' Hardware.
I guided Lucy through our inventory system, impressed by how quickly she picked it up. Her background in accounting shone through as she effortlessly navigated the spreadsheets.
"You're a natural," I said, unable to keep the admiration from my voice.
Lucy beamed at me. "Thanks! It's not so different from what I used to do. Just with more . . . nuts and bolts involved. Everything’s all numbers, when you get down to it."
We shared a laugh, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. Working alongside her felt so natural, so right.
Throughout the morning, I showed her the ropes—from restocking shelves to helping customers find obscure items. Her infectious enthusiasm seemed to brighten the whole store.
"Marcus, where do you keep the . . . galvanized screws?" she called out from aisle three.
I walked over, pointing to a high shelf. "Right up there. Need a hand?"
Lucy's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Nope, I've got this." She stretched up on her tiptoes, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of skin. I quickly averted my gaze, my face burning.
An elderly woman approached us, smiling warmly. "My, what a lovely couple you two make," she remarked.
I felt my face flush even deeper. "Oh, we're not—" I started to say, but Lucy cut me off.
"Thank you," she said, linking her arm through mine. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"
I looked down at her, surprised. She winked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh awkwardly.
As the woman walked away, Lucy whispered, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Did I make you uncomfortable?"
I shook my head, still chuckling. "No, just . . . surprised. You're full of them today, aren't you?"
She grinned. "Keep you on your toes, that's my motto."
I watched her walk away, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn't quite name. What was I getting myself into?
The old clock on the wall chimed noon, its familiar tone echoing through the store. I caught Lucy's eye and nodded towards the back. "Lunch break?"
She smiled, setting down the pricing gun. "I'm starving."
We retreated to the cramped break room, its worn wooden table barely big enough for two. I pulled out a chair for Lucy, wincing at the scrape against the linoleum floor.
"Such a gentleman," she teased, settling in.
I sat across from her, suddenly hyper-aware of how close our knees were under the table. Lucy picked at her sandwich, her eyes downcast. The easy banter from earlier had evaporated, leaving a charged silence.
Finally, she looked up, her green eyes meeting mine. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night," she admitted softly.
My heart hammered in my chest. I exhaled slowly, relieved she'd broached the subject. "Neither have I," I confessed. "I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries."
She shook her head quickly. "No, not at all. It was . . . nice. It felt right."
We shared a shy smile, and I felt like a teenager again.
“You know,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about the age difference.”
Damn. Here it comes. The moment when she gently lets me down. It was fair enough. I knew that there was no way someone like her could be interested in someone like me.
I sighed. “I understand. Well, it’ll be hard, but I’m sure we can just be—”
“Do not even think about saying we can just be friends!” She insisted. “That’s not what I mean! I mean that I’ve been thinking about the age gap and . . . I kinda really like it.”
“You do?” I sounded confused.
“Mmhmm. All the people I’ve been with always felt like little boys. Like they didn’t know themselves, or what they wanted from life. With you . . . you feel like a man.” She practically growled it.
“I’m glad.”
“And Marcus, I’m not looking for a father. But . . . I think I am looking for a Daddy Dom.”
A lusty, dirty look dawned on her face, as she bit her bottom lip. She looked so damn sexy it made me feel like a fucking animal.
“I’m looking for someone just like you, Lucy,” I said, my own voice lowering, becoming deep. “Someone to be myself with.” I moved a hand to the small of her back. “Someone to claim.”
Lucy's cheeks flushed slightly. "You make me feel things no-one has ever made before." She paused, biting her lower lip. "You make me feel like you own me. You make me feel like I want to call you—" she paused, leaned into my ear. “—Daddy.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. How long had it been since someone had seen me—really seen me? I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. Then I felt another lump, fast-growing and hard, as lust swirled around me.
I felt a surge of emotion, my heart pounding. "You have no idea how much that means to me," I whispered.
Without overthinking, I stood and stepped closer to her. Lucy rose to meet me, her green eyes wide and expectant. For a moment, we just looked at each other, the air between us electric.
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. But she didn't. Our lips met, and this kiss was different—deeper, more passionate. My arms wrapped around her waist as hers slid up to my shoulders. The world narrowed to just us, the soft hum of the store fading away.
Lucy's body melted against mine, fitting perfectly. I breathed in her scent—a mix of vanilla and something uniquely her. My fingers tangled in her wavy auburn hair as the kiss intensified.
The shrill trill of the store's bell jolted us back to reality. We pulled apart abruptly, both breathless and slightly disoriented. A gruff voice called out, "Hello? Anyone here?"
Lucy giggled softly, her cheeks flushed. I couldn't help but chuckle, running a hand through my hair.
"Duty calls," I said with a wink, trying to regain my composure. My body hummed with lingering desire.
She nodded, her eyes still shining. "We'll continue this later," she teased, her voice low and full of promise.
As I turned to greet the customer, my mind raced. What had I gotten myself into? And more importantly, how could I get back to it as soon as possible?
The afternoon dragged on, each minute an eternity. I couldn't keep my eyes off Lucy. Her graceful movements as she restocked shelves, her warm smile as she helped customers—she was captivating.
As the day wound down, I found myself lost in thought. What if Lucy was here every day? Her laughter filling the store, her quick mind coming up with new ideas.
"What if we set up a DIY corner?" Lucy's voice broke through my daydream. "You could host workshops, teach people basic home repair."
I grinned. "That's brilliant. We could even add a cozy seating area, make it more inviting."
Her eyes lit up. "Exactly! And with a new inventory system, we could streamline everything."
“New inventory system?” I asked.
“Oh for sure. I’ve been thinking about your stock system, and I know that we can do better.”
"I thought you wanted to be a writer, not a hardware store administrator," I said with a chuckle.
“No reason I can’t be both.” She grinned.
The rest of the day rushed past. We were busy—always were after I closed the shop for the day—and I was grateful to have Lucy’s help.
Eventually, as the last rays of sunlight streamed through the storefront windows, I flipped the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED" and turned to Lucy, who was carefully counting the day's receipts.
"Ready to lock up?" I asked, jingling the keys.
She nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Just about."
We moved through our closing routine in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other when we thought the other wasn't looking. As I shut off the lights, Lucy's silhouette was backlit by the fading sun, and my breath caught in my throat.
We stepped out onto the quiet street, the evening air crisp against my skin. Lucy paused, her green eyes reflecting the golden light.
"Today was . . . really nice," she said softly.
My heart skipped a beat. "Yes, it was," I agreed, gathering my courage. "And you were very well behaved. I didn’t even have to spank you once."
She bit her lip. “There’s always tomorrow.” She paused. “Or . . . tonight.”
We stood there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. I knew I had to say something, to address the elephant in the room.
"I know we're moving quickly," I began, my voice low. "And I don't want to rush you."
Lucy shook her head, her expression earnest. "I feel the same way, but I also don't want to ignore what's happening between us."
My hand found hers, our fingers intertwining naturally. The warmth of her skin against mine sent a shiver down my spine.
"Then we'll take it one day at a time," I suggested, hoping she couldn't hear the rapid beating of my heart.
She nodded, leaning into me slightly. "One day at a time," she echoed.
As we began walking towards my home, I couldn't shake the feeling of rightness that settled over me. The future was uncertain, but with Lucy by my side, I felt ready to face whatever came next.
"You know," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I've been thinking about those ideas you had for the store."
Lucy's eyes lit up. "Really? Which ones?"
I squeezed her hand gently. "All of them. I think you might be onto something with those DIY workshops."
Her laughter, bright and infectious, filled the quiet street. "Marcus Wilkins, are you saying you're open to change?"
I chuckled, pulling her closer. "I guess you're rubbing off on me, Lucy Emerson."
“Rubbing off on you, you say?” she said, placing a hand on my back. “That sounds like an interesting idea.”
“Speaking of ideas,” I said, “there’s something I want to talk to you when we get back.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Patience, darling,” I said. “The longer you wait for something, the better it feels.”