Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Autumn
I’m so far past mortified that the scale is broken. We’re playing a game here, dancing around the giant elephant he mentioned. I know it; he knows it. It’s just a matter of which of us will break first.
I feel the energy in the air. The man has juice boxes and fed me mac and cheese. He calls me Baby girl. He brushed out my hair and offered to braid it. He tucked me into bed.
If he’s not a Daddy, I’ll eat my shirt, and that would be humiliating since it’s the only thing I’m wearing.
But I don’t want to be the one to say it out loud because that would be more embarrassing than admitting I’m Little would be if he stared at me like I have two heads and told me he doesn’t know what that means.
Mace stands abruptly, taking the bait. He releases me and turns to stride across the room.
I see my purse on the counter, and he grabs it and brings it to me.
My hands are trembling as I release the zipper and pull out my phone.
It’s dead, as I suspected. It barely had any life when I arrived this morning.
I didn’t leave the house with a charger.
I didn’t leave the house with a damn thing, except the envelope and my purse.
I held both in my lap most of the way here, only reluctantly stowing them under the seat in front of me for takeoff and landing.
“It’s dead,” I say as I hand it over.
“Lucky for me, I have a charger.” He laughs. “Come.” He sets my purse and phone on the island so he can, once again, lift me off the stool. At least he stands me on my feet this time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he carried me.
That’s how strong his Daddy tendencies are.
But maybe I’m filled with nothing but wishful thinking.
Just because I’ve always let my wild daydreams paint Mace as the world’s most perfect Daddy Dom and me as his sassy, naughty Little girl does not mean it’s in the realm of possibilities. My imagination is vivid.
Mace leads me across the large space toward a giant navy overstuffed armchair with a matching ottoman. He settles on it before leaning over the side to tug a charger up from where it’s mysteriously plugged into an outlet in the floor.
Sheesh. The man has everything. After attaching my phone, he sets it on the wide, comfy arm, stretches his legs out on the footstool, and pats his lap. “Sit with me.”
“On your lap?”
“Yep.”
I wring my fingers together in front of me. It’s not that I don’t want to sit on his lap. I’d give anything for such an opportunity, but I’m still only wearing a thin T-shirt, and it’s not going to be graceful arranging myself over his thighs.
“Autumn…” he says in that warning tone he reserves for reprimanding me. I’ve been with him only a handful of hours, and he’s mastered the art of making me feel more Little than I ever expected.
Carefully, I set a knee on the ottoman and then crawl closer. My ass is practically hanging out. The ass he’s most likely going to spank soon. At least I hope so. First, we have to clear the air, and I suspect that’s about to happen as soon as he opens my reading list.
I wish I was the sort of person who could just blurt out, I’m Little. Are you happy? But I’m not that brave.
When I’m close enough, Mace lifts my hips and turns me to settle me sideways on his lap. I bend my knees, so I’m snuggled against his chest. It feels so good. So right.
If he weren’t distracting me by fulfilling all my wildest dreams, I would be a blubbering mess. I know I’m avoiding my grief. It’s going to surface again at some point. I’ve buried my father’s death somewhere deep to explore more later. I’m cried out for today.
I’m stunned to find out my father knew I had a crush on Mace.
I’m doubly shocked to learn that he believed the same was true for Mace and gave him his blessing to pursue me.
The complete one-eighty from thinking I would never voice my feelings for this man to sitting on his lap is making my head spin.
In a good way. It’s also distracting me from my grief, which is a welcome reprieve.
I’m not at all sure I like this arrangement with regard to him digging around in my phone. I’d rather be hiding somewhere like the back of a closet, curled into a ball, rocking and whimpering while waiting to discover my fate.
This is important. Once my preferences are out, it either solidifies our weird new relationship or ruins it. Either way, it has to be done, and I’d rather he be the one to figure it out and voice his own.
Mace tucks my cheek against his shoulder, wraps his arms around me, and holds my phone in front of him where I can see it at the same time.
I try to remember to breathe when he opens it. I’m kind of surprised it comes on so quickly. I suppose it just needed to be plugged in to get enough juice to function.
Mace holds it up to my face, which unlocks the screen. He’s clever. Without a word, he starts tapping so fast that I can barely follow what he’s doing. I shouldn’t be shocked. He’s a computer geek. Of course, he’s a whizz with a cellphone.
My e-reader app is on the home screen, but my nosey Dom doesn’t go there first. He opens my browser and flips through my tabs. What’s he looking for?
I cringe when the last porn video I watched opens. “How did you do that?”
He chuckles. “I’m an electronic geek, sweetheart. Never underestimate me on that.”
I bite my lip and sit very still while he watches a few seconds of my latest selection before switching to another one and another. I think he somehow scrolls through my search history. He isn’t hiding his curiosity. I’m sitting right here, watching him explore my life in tabs.
With my arms curled up against my chest, I rest my fists under my chin and wait.
Eventually, he minimizes my browser and taps on my e-reader app logo. He closes the book I was in the middle of reading and starts scrolling through everything on my device.
I hold my breath. If he wasn’t sure about my kinky side before, he is now. The question is, do we match? It seems likely, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.
Who am I kidding? I’m going to die on the spot if he thinks my kink is too weird for him.
Mace says nothing as he slowly swipes his finger over the screen until he’s seen the covers of dozens of my books. Not just any books, but everything I’ve read lately.
When he’s done, he closes my phone, sets it on the wide arm of the chair, and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m freaking the fuck out, Mace,” I blurt. It’s the truth.
He kisses my temple and brushes my hair away from my face. “No need to panic, Baby girl. And if you cuss like that again, you’ll find yourself standing in the corner with your nose to the wall.”
I gasp.
He rubs my back, rocking me gently.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
It’s right here. The elephant. Suffocating me. I can’t breathe. I wonder if I’m actually still in a deep sleep on Mace’s bed. Maybe none of this is real—the juice boxes, the mac and cheese, the picking my brain…
After a long silence, he gently asks, “How long have you known you’re Little?”
I blow out a breath.
Finally.
That one word.
It’s out there now. It’s floating in the air between us. He said it. He knows what it means to be Little.
And he’s not cringing or judging me.
I shrug against him, not meeting his gaze, keeping my cheek pressed against his neck. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “Sometime after I met you.”
He rubs my back. “Have you ever talked to anyone about this, Baby girl?”
“Fuck, no.” I wince at my profanity. It’s been ten seconds since he threatened me with a timeout.
He chuckles. “You like corners.”
I shake my head. “It just slipped out.”
“I don’t think naughty words are going to slip out of your mouth much longer, sweetheart.”
I bite my lip again. It’s sore from doing so as often as I have today. But it grounds me.
“Have you ever practiced your kink in any way?”
“No.”
“You don’t have any clothes or toys or stuffies that help you feel Little when you’re alone?”
“No, Sir.” As I begin to let myself believe this might actually be real, I slide under his spell more readily. It feels natural to call him Sir. It did before he forced me to admit my kinky side.
“So everything you’ve experienced has been strictly in your imagination?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And your fodder is all from books?”
I nod. “I’m sure I’m a terrible Little. I have no experience.”
“Stop fretting about what you do and don’t know, Baby girl. There won’t be a test. You just need the freedom to explore and figure out what you like.”
And he’s going to offer me that freedom…
“Do you know what age you prefer?”
“No,” I murmur. In my head, I flip around to all different ages as if I’m experimenting.
It has always felt naughty to me. If it weren’t for the internet, I wouldn’t even know age play was a thing that actual people participate in.
Just because there are a ton of books on the subject doesn’t mean people do that sort of thing in real life.
Mace is stroking my bicep with his fingertips, making me shiver from the gentle touch. “I know you’re embarrassed, and I’m pushing you, but I have one more thing to ask, and then I’ll stop badgering you.”
I inhale deeply. I’m not sure I can take another question.
“Is your Little sexual, Baby girl? Do you masturbate when you’re in that headspace?”
Pulling my knees higher, I curl into myself.
“There isn’t a right or wrong answer, sweetheart. I’m just gathering information, so I know how to take care of you. Do you touch yourself when you read your books?”
I give a slight nod, totally embarrassed.
It doesn’t matter if my mortification is misplaced.
I can’t help feeling exposed, as if my soul is ripped open and naked.
I’m also nearly naked on his lap. The hem of the T-shirt is bunched up between my thighs, and I’m gripping it tightly to keep from baring my pussy.
I’m also wet. There’s a solid chance that when I stand, the front of the shirt will have spots on it from my arousal. I wasn’t sure about this before, but it would seem I secretly enjoy being humiliated. Not in general. Just with him.
Mace keeps his arms wrapped around me, holding me close, rocking me gently. I’m raw, as if he’s removed my skin. I like that he doesn’t continue to bombard me with questions. Hopefully, he’s dragged every detail he needs out of me, and he’ll let me breathe now.
He stroked me everywhere he can reach, both above the T-shirt and on my exposed skin. He even touches my feet.
After a long time, he asks, “Do you want to watch some TV, Baby girl?”
I shake my head. “Can we just sit here?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I like this a lot.”
Part of me is still exhausted from not getting any sleep last night and from crying so much, but I’m fully alert on Mace’s lap, aware of every part of me he touches.
It’s like he’s exploring. I would probably spread my legs and let him reach between them or even take off this shirt if he asked, but he doesn’t.
I’m kind of glad. As much as I crave his hands on every inch of me, I’ve had the longest, most emotional twenty-four hours of my life. I don’t think I’m in a headspace that could accommodate one more thing, and letting Mace see me naked could cause me to faint from overload.
Every once in a while, he kisses my temple. I love it, and I think I sigh each time. My brain is racing as I wonder what he’s thinking and planning. I don’t ask, though. I’m not sure I could internalize the answers.
I don’t know how long we sit here. I don’t care. I never want to move. I’m so content. But eventually, Mace says, “Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart. You need to sleep.”
I whimper and snuggle into him. As tired as I am, I don’t think my brain is going to slow down and let me rest. I need…
I know what I need. I keep circling back to his threat to spank me. Perhaps if I misbehave again, he’ll do so. I can’t explain my actions and thoughts. They’re all over the place, but I shake my head petulantly. “No.”
He chuckles, his body shaking and causing me to bounce on his lap. “You put a lot of thought into that little rebellion, didn’t you, Baby girl?”
I don’t respond.
“You want your bottom spanked.” It’s not a question. It’s an observation.
Holding my breath, I don’t move.
“How about this? Let’s move to the bathroom. You can potty and brush your teeth. After that, you can lie on your tummy on the bed, and I’ll spank you. How does that sound?”
Like heaven. “Okay,” I whisper.
Mace bends his knees so he can push the ottoman away with his feet. He sits upright, scoots to the edge of the chair, and brings me forward. “Can you stand, sweetheart?”
I finally uncurl my body and lower my feet to the floor.
“Good girl.” He kisses my temple again, making me shiver.
The T-shirt falls around me, and when I glance down, there are wet spots I knew would be on the front. Maybe he won’t notice.
Mace rises, takes my hand, and leads me back through to his bathroom. “I’ll go turn out the lights and double-check the alarm.” He leaves me in the bathroom and shuts the door.