Chapter Eleven
“So…this is your place,” I say with a hint of curiosity as Dmitri helps me out of the passenger seat of his car. He has been practically glued to my side since the accident, only leaving the hospital when the nurses kicked him out for overstaying visiting hours.
Dmitri lives in a cozy little cottage-style home, it seems. With its white picket fence, steep, gabled roof, and inviting porch (complete with two white rocking chairs), I never would have guessed that this big, burly, tattooed man lives here.
Then again, he’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, so maybe it does fit him.
“Home sweet home,” he acknowledges with a smile, then reaches to unlatch the front gate.
He presses his palm into the small of my back and guides me up the cobblestone path, letting the gate shut behind us.
“Just be careful of Juniper. She doesn’t realize how big she is and she gets excited sometimes. ”
I frown. “Who’s—"
A deep, loud bark sounds from the other side of the front door, cutting me off.
“That’s Junie,” he answers my unfinished question fondly, then slides his key into the lock. Before he turns it, though, he pauses. “You’re okay with dogs, right? Not allergic or afraid of them?”
“I love dogs,” I grin back, feeling my heart flutter when his concern melts into a relieved smile of his own. “But I can’t have one in my little studio apartment.”
“Thank god,” he breathes, finally turning the key. “I should have asked before bringing you here. I didn’t even think until now.”
“You don’t have to have me stay here. I’m fine. I can just get a cab home and—”
“Nope. The doctor said you shouldn’t be alone and, honestly, I would worry too much if I thought you were.”
“You know you’re not responsible for—oh my god. That’s a horse, not a dog.” He’s swung the door open and the big, black and white animal tippy-tapping her feet on the polished wooden floors is one hundred percent the size of a small pony.
Dmitri drops my bag to the floor with a thud and reaches out to rub the now whining horse-dog between the ears. She leans into him, resting her head above his belly button and I watch as he actively braces himself against her weight.
“Junie, this is Miles,” he says, introducing me to the one-headed Cerberus. “We need to be calm and gentle around Miles right now, all right? No bowling him over or climbing into his lap on the couch.”
She whines up at him, pleading with giant brown eyes.
“Gentle,” he repeats.
Juniper seems to sigh and then rolls those big eyes my way.
I have to admit, she is absolutely gorgeous, with drooping jowls and the most pitiful expression I’ve ever seen on a dog.
Her tail gives a short, cautious wag, and I reach out a hand for her to sniff.
The wagging picks up once she’s decided I’m not a threat.
“Junie,” Dmitri uses his firm Daddy voice as she steps towards me, “gentle, remember?”
“She’s fine,” I assure him, then almost regret it when the Great Dane sits on my foot and then leans her whole body into my side, snuffling up at me and whimpering until I pet her like Dmitri was only a few seconds ago.
I must wobble a little, because Dmitri’s hand is immediately steadying me again, and he says, “Let’s go into the living room and get you comfortable. The doctor said you should take it easy for the next couple of days, remember?”
Junie’s paws patter behind us as he ushers me into the room to our left, guiding me down onto a plush, dark brown couch. Juniper leaps up on the seat beside me, then flops without any grace, landing her oversized head in my lap.
Dmitri sighs and gives her the side-eye. “Well, at least she’s not sitting on you.”
“She’s being gentle like you asked,” I agree, rumpling the soft skin between her ears, making them flop back and forth.
“She’s being good.” An involuntary flush of heat rushes over my cheeks, my own words making me remember how amazing it felt being told that I was being good for him.
Before I know it, my mouth has overridden my brain and I’m blurting, “When you said you wanted…” I don’t finish the sentence, unable to really remember what he’d said the other night. It’s all a bit fuzzy.
He frowns, probably just as lost with my train of thought as I am. Dropping to a crouch in front of me, he squeezes my knee, “When I said I wanted to spend more time with you outside of work?”
“Work?” I tilt my head carefully to the side. I’m still wary of setting off more headaches.
“The adult film shoot.”
Oh.
I know I was paid for it, but is it wrong that I didn’t think of it as work? I enjoyed it, for one, and for another thing… “I was there by accident.”
Dmitri’s jaw drops at my unplanned confession. “Pardon?”
Grimacing, I explain, “I was supposed to be auditioning for some Hallmark-esque Christmas movie, but I later found out that my agent sent me the wrong studio details” —he had switched my shoot with his other new starter’s, it turned out— “and I…um…well, once I worked out what was happening, I stayed.”
I’m a little concerned that I’ve broken him. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
“Dmitri?”
Holding up an index finger, his tone is strained when he finally replies, “Let me get this straight. You had no idea you were walking into a porn shoot and once you got there you just” —he rolls his wrist— “went with it.”
“Well, yeah. I, uh, I thought…y’know…why not? How different could it be to doing scenes at The Grove?” I dig my fingers into the fur of Junie’s rough, letting her warmth keep me calm as my heart races. “Is that…is that bad?”
Dmitri’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, pushing up from the floor to sit beside me, perched awkwardly on the armrest of the couch.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes.
“No, of course it’s not bad, baby. I just wasn’t expecting to hear that.
You were a natural. Jake says the finished product is one of the best shoots he’s seen all year.
And to hear that you went into it on a whim is just… wow.”
With my shoulders inching up to my ears, I repeat, “It was like doing a scene for an audience at The Grove.”
And I liked it.
Fuck that, I loved it.
But how much of that was because I was already half-infatuated with my scene partner?
“Would you do it again?” he asks.
I have a ready answer for this question, having thought those very same words over and over again at least three times a day since we filmed it. But to give Dmitri my answer out loud is scary, because it’s going to give away more than I think he’s ready to hear.
“Miles?” he prods gently. “It’s okay if you—”
“Only with you.”
Jesus. Is it the pain meds making me lose control of my mouth today?
Dmitri’s arm tenses around me and I have to close my eyes against the rejection I know is coming.
“Precious, look at me.”
Trying to hide how rapidly my heart is racing, I focus on keeping my breathing calm as I turn to face him, barely able to look him in the eye.
“Can you tell me why you’d only do it again with me?” I can’t read his tone properly, but am I imagining the hint of hope in it?
At this point, I don’t have anything left to lose by being honest. My dignity and sense of self-preservation have already disappeared. Besides, Christmas is coming up, after all, and if I had just one wish? It would be to make our Santa Daddy fantasy real for life.
So, I take a deep breath and tell him, “Because I only want you to be my Daddy, Dmitri. At the club, on screen, at home…I only want it to be you.” And there it is.
I can’t make my feelings any plainer. Oh.
Except for one more thing. “And I know that filming is your job, and I’m not asking you to stop working with other actors for me.
But…I kind of want to be the only Boy who calls you Daddy. ”
There’s barely a moment for me to worry that I might have said too much, or crossed a line in asking such a thing of him, before he’s holding my face between his big, tattooed hands and pressing his lips to mine with a sense of urgency that I can feel deep in my own bones.
My lips part for him, letting him in, breathing in the spicy scent of his beard-oil and cologne. His kiss is just as perfect as I remember, only now it feels like so much more. There’s no audience, unless you count the dog. No cameras. Nothing demanding this of us. It’s natural, organic, and real.
“I want all of that, too, Miles,” he whispers when the kiss draws to an end, but he doesn’t pull away.
His breath washes over me, just as minty as he tasted, warm and strangely comforting.
“I’ve been kicking myself since I let you drive away without asking for your number.
We barely know each other, but that scene with you…
we clicked in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I want to be your Daddy. On screen, at the club, at home.
Every way you’ll have me. It’s too early to know what the future holds, but…
” he presses his forehead to mine and stares into my eyes, making my stomach swoop, “I have a good feeling about it.”
“Yeah,” I manage to rasp out, finding his smile and optimism contagious, “me, too.”