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“You don’t want me to buy you any more outfits?” Loki asked, sounding confused.
“No!” she cried, turning to him. “No, I love it when you do that. I just want the choice of what to wear.”
Loki still looked confused.
Remy cleared his throat. “Some Doms like to choose what their subs wear. Sometimes just for the night. Sometimes all the time.”
“Ahh. Got it. Of course you can choose, Tink.”
Relief filled her as Remy nodded. “You will tell us if something is worrying you. Anything else worrying you?”
What? Other than the fact she could fuck everything up and be left with nothing?
Won’t happen. She and Loki were forever. And Remy . . . she hoped he would be the same.
“Not that I can think of.”
“You can always add limits as they come to you,” Remy told her. “Or try something you thought you never would. This is a fluid thing, never set in stone.”
The tension in her eased.
“What about your Little? Is she all right with her Daddies picking what she wears?”
Her Daddies?
Holy. Moly. She couldn’t wrap her head around that. Would it feel weird to call Loki Daddy? Maybe.
“Can I keep calling you Ki-Ki?” she blurted out to Loki.
His eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“It’s just . . . when I’m in Little headspace, that’s who you are to me and I can’t . . . change that.”
Understanding filled his face. “And I wouldn’t want you to.”
“Ki-Ki is cute.” Remy’s face was slightly flushed. “Where’d it come from?”
“Um, from his names. Lach-ie. Lo-ki. Ki-Ki.” She shrugged.
“So freaking adorable,” Remy muttered. She didn’t think they were supposed to hear that.
“My Little likes being cared for. I think she . . . I would like that.”
Satisfaction filled Remy’s face. She liked being able to give him something he wanted and desired.
“Is there anything you don’t want in Little headspace?”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve never really thought about it . . . or totally let go.”
Remy leaned forward. “We’ll have to change that.” Then he stood and moved to the armchair. “But you’re both looking exhausted. It’s time for the spanking.”
Loki felt a tendril of panic.
What was wrong with him? He’d been in the armed forces and hadn’t felt as nervous as he did right now, faced with having to spank his girl.
If you can’t do it, Remy can.
No fucking way. It wasn’t a matter of pride. Or of jealousy or anything like that.
