“Do you need someone to scene with?”
Usually, I would flirt. Ask him if he’s offering, even though his Boy isright there. Stir them both up a bit. But I don’t have it in me today. Instead, I swallow and shrug. “Maybe.” The word comes out shakily. I hate it. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”
I want Daddy Kris.
The traitorous thought only makes me regret my choices more.
But he seemed to know what I needed when I couldn’t put words to it. He knew the kinds of things I would enjoy even though I’d never tried them before. He knew just how far he could push me until I came undone.
Why the ever-loving fuck did I run away from that?
I was scared of getting too attached, I’m not dumb enough that I can’t admit that to myself. But hindsight is a funny thing, and now I wish I had enjoyed what little chance I had to spend time with that perfect-for-me Daddy instead of running away to save myself potential heartache later.
Because newsflash: I’m still feeling it.
God, why am I such a fuckup?
“Okay, okay, shhh,” Drake pulls me out of my chair and into his lap on the floor, rubbing my back as I sob my regrets all over him. Anson is also down on the carpet with us, I dimly realize, feeling his arms wrapping around me, too.
I’m too wrung-out to think about this bizarre shift in our dynamic. In fact, it’s kind of nice. It kind of feels like I have friends, if only for this strange, out-of-character moment in time.
And, oddly, the crying jag makes it easier to finally slip into headspace.
Thisfeels a lot like coming home. The tension leaves my body as I’m rocked and shushed and told that it’s going to be okay.
I still miss Kris. Still regret leaving the camp without taking Anson’s advice and talking to him. But I don’t feel as much self-loathing when I’m Little. Littles make mistakes. That’s why they want Daddies and Mommies to make Big choices for them.
It’s hard to make Big choices when you don’t have an adultier adult to help.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but when I finally calm down, both Anson and Drake ask if I feel better for letting it all out.
Biting my lip, I nod. “Yeah.” I’m feeling quite small and vulnerable, but not in a bad way. “Thank you.”
Tomorrow, I will probably feel really embarrassed about all of this.
Anson seems to know where my thoughts have headed because he shakes his head. “You’re my friend. Nothing to feel ’barrassed about.” He holds out one of his large hands. “Wanna come play cars?”
It takes a moment for the question to compute.
Nobody’s invited me to play before. Well, nobody other than Tess back at camp.
“You sure?” I’ve never heard my own voice sound so timid. “I get bossy when I play.”
Anson’s lip quirks upwards knowingly. “I think me ’n Daddy canhandle you.”
“Even if I’m naughty?”
Anson’s smile stretches wider across his handsome face. He leans forward, then, in a stage-whisper, says “Tell you a secret?” When I nod eagerly, he admits, “I like being naughty sometimes, too.”
In the back of my brain, I’m not really surprised to hear it, but Little Me gasps dramatically. “Really?”
“Uh huh. But Daddy’s punishments are mean and no fun.”
“That’s the point of a punishment, sunshine,” Drake tells him, but he’s giving Anson one of those fond smiles that make my insides twist with jealousy.
I’ve spent years fighting that feeling. I don’t need a relationship. I don’t need a Daddy of my own. Scenes are fine. They scratch the itch.
Except my meltdown tonight suggests otherwise.
