Page 61 of Love Lessons

She hid a little behind her hair. Trying to make herself smaller, less exposed. It wasn’t like she was actually talking about herself, anyway. He takes care of her. She’d said that earlier. But it felt completely different now that she knew what he was thinking.

She watched Dustin closely. His breath looked heavy too. Like this was really what he wanted.

And he makes her obey. She looked downward as soon as she said it, only watching him in her peripheral vision. That was it, really. The core of it. Dustin could make her obey, not just while he was taking care of her, but because he was taking care of her.

Good girl, he signed. She felt all melty and liquid inside, warmed by his praise and bursting with possibility.

She shifted on her chair, wondering what was coming next.

He shifted back a little, untangling their feet except for his toes resting lightly on top of hers. Eat your dinner. He took another intentional bite of his own.

She speared a piece of broccoli on her fork. Pressed it to her lips. Chewed. Swallowed. She had no idea what it tasted like, because all she could see was his pleased smile.

They ate without talking, Dustin clearly giving her time to order her thoughts.

So… she wanted a Daddy. At least some of the time or in some way. Maybe not with bottles and sippy cups, but something.

How the fuck had she not known this about herself before? She’d seen tons of Daddies at the clubs. Scened with them. Dispensed basic advice and listened to people’s fears and hopes.

Had she just ignored it because she didn’t feel an initial urge toward it? Was there something different about Dustin? Maybe the fact that he wasn’t willing to settle for just a few nights together and a relationship that ended when they’d both come?

She was finding that she really liked being pursued. And snuggled. And sent texts all week. And made to do what Dustin told her even when she acted like she didn’t want to.

But, fuck, that was a lot to take in.

Dustin finished his last bites and then caught her again. Is any of this something that you’d like to try?

I’m not a baby. She’d meant to say something a bit more sophisticated, but that was what came out. It was probably the only thing that she had figured out right now.

And then Dustin blew all of that scattered confusion and realignment to a whole other level. I didn’t think you were a baby or that I’m looking for one. But I was thinking that a Middle, maybe a bratty teenager, could be fun for our next lesson. Maybe something that we could try out?

He trapped her feet again, keeping her anchored and secure.

Was that what she was doing when she kept trying to push his limits? God, she probably acted exactly like her eighth graders sometimes. They thought they were so grown up, so experienced. But then the littlest thing might tip them back into childhood and they were trading Pokémon cards and making friendship bracelets.

They tested boundaries and put on a show, but inside they were just trying to get attention and figure themselves out. They acted like they were too old for parents, too cool for school, but they craved guidance when it came with the right touch of care and respect.

It was distressingly easy to imagine herself that way.

Dustin pulled the fork out of her limp fingers and held her hand across the table. He always felt so warm and stable. It was just something that I thought we could try. No pressure. I think it fits with who I am, and I thought you might find it relaxing.

Relaxing? She’d been thinking kinky.

His eyes twinkled. I got some graphic novels that I thought you might like. And some lip gloss. But only if you’re interested.

Shit. He’d really prepared for this and thought about what she would like. This wasn’t casual at all. The thing was, now that she was here, in this moment with Dustin, it didn’t feel casual to her, either.

She felt like some suffocating layer was sloughing off her body. It was like starting a Lena day, but somehow even more intense.

She wanted her presents, too.

What graphic novels?

The new Ms. Marvel. And The Prince and the Dressmaker.

Damn. She’d read articles about both of those. Ms. Marvel had been reinvented as an observant Muslim teenager and the second one was about a gender fluid prince. Dustin had totally nailed it. She could definitely spend the whole evening wrapped up in reading, an indulgence she rarely allowed herself.

I’m interested, she agreed, putting on a show of nonchalance. Now where were her books?