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A second afterI’d asked Derek if he’d been married before, I’d known his answer, even though he hadn’t given one. His phone had buzzed, and he’d had an emergency at the ranch, which had saved him from having to answer me.
Lots of people got divorced, no big deal, and I was just trying to get to know him better. So why would he freeze up and look so sad and hesitant to answer my question? I’d told him a little about my past. Okay, not my big dark secret, but I’d told him about my ex-boyfriend and how we’d broken up because the douche canoe had thought I was disgusting after I confessed my daddy dom fantasies to him.
I glanced at my phone and frowned. Derek and I hadn’t exchanged numbers yet. I couldn’t even call him. But before he’d rushed off to deal with an emergency on his ranch, he’d claimed he wanted to see me tomorrow. Oh how that pronouncement had lifted my spirits and filled me with hope.
It's not as though he doesn’t know where you live, I told myself.Maybe he’ll just show up out of the blue tomorrow and whisk you off for pancakes and coffee.
My face heated as I recalled the intimacies we’d shared. Not only had he spanked me—twice!—but he’d touched my pussy and stroked me to ecstasy. He’d made me come. Hard. I was still feeling a bit breathless and weak in the knees from the pleasure he’d given me.
I’d felt the huge erection in his pants as I’d sat on his lap. I’d expected he might unzip his pants, free his manhood, and instruct me to pleasure him in return. Not only had I expected it, but I’d wanted it. Craved it. As I’d been sitting on his lap, all I could think about was what it would be like to take him in my mouth.
But instead, he’d suggested we go grocery shopping, saying he wanted to make sure my kitchen was fully stocked. While I appreciated his help and I was glad I didn’t have to carry all those bags upstairs by myself, now that he was gone, I couldn’t help but wish we’d spent that time doing other things. Grown-up things.
A steady, aching pulse affected my center as I imagined Daddy without his clothes on.
If I touched myself right now, would I be breaking his rules? If I confessed having touched myself when he came over tomorrow, would he scold me and give me another spanking?
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, then padded to my bedroom and opened up my laptop. There was a bit of a mystery surrounding Derek Bolt and I intended to get to the bottom of things. A man as prominent as him would probably be very easy to Google. Maybe I could find out why he’d hesitated to answer me when I’d asked about any previous marriages.
What I discovered both shocked and saddened me.
Poor Derek. Poor Daddy.
I poured over a series of articles from the Rocky Springs Daily. Articles about his late wife, Trisha Bolt, who’d perished in a tragic car accident over five years ago. According to the articles, she’d taken a turn too fast in the rain and spun across the road as a tractor trailer was coming down the mountain in the opposite direction. She’d died instantly. Oh how terribly sad.
Had Daddy really been alone since then?
Was I the first woman he’d spent time with in a romantic and/or kinky way? And if so, why now and why me?
I also looked up his business and read a little bit about Rocky Springs Ranch and Resort. It was a highly rated resort that offered a ranch experience. Guests could ride horses on mountain trails, help with cattle drives, or simply go hiking or kayaking. The resort also had a massive in-ground heated pool, and each guest cabin contained a hot tub. It looked both rustic and luxurious. Wow. I was impressed.
One article I found described Derek Bolt as a rags-to-riches story. Apparently, he’d grown up in poverty and later worked as a ranch hand on a nearby ranch. In time, he’d become the foreman of this ranch, and he’d saved every dime he earned for ten years until he was able to afford the down payment on the land he would eventually turn into Rocky Springs Ranch and Resort.
According to the most recent article, his ranch had just celebrated its ten-year anniversary. There were a few quotes from locals about Derek and his ranch in some of the articles, and all of them were overwhelmingly positive. He’d bought up and repaired numerous buildings on Main Street to help draw new businesses in. Everyone in Rocky Springs seemed to adore him and credited him with single-handedly turning around the economy of the once dilapidated town.
My crush on him increased tenfold. Not because he was wealthy, but because he was a very giving person. He knew what it was like to struggle, and he seemed to like to help others.
And he also happened to be a sexy as fuck daddy dom.
I shut my laptop and went to the large bedroom window that had a view of the mountains. The sun was starting to set, and the horizon was painted with oranges and pinks.
Five years. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Five years was such a long time. And Daddy had been alone that whole time.
I glanced at his business card. Well, I supposed I had his phone number after all. But I doubted it was his personal cell phone number on that business card. Probably just the main line to the ranch.
I wished I could call him and hear his voice. I wished I could tell him how sorry I was about his wife. Would it upset him to know I’d done some internet sleuthing?
Suddenly, my stomach dropped to my feet and cold terror washed through me.
What if he decided to Googlemy name? Gemma Wilder wasn’t a totally uncommon name, but if he searched “artist” along with my name and “Connecticut,” where he knew I was from, he would most certainly find a few newspaper articles about me. I cringed as I remembered some of the headlines:Local Woman Takes Ex to Court over Revenge Porn,Artist Gemma Wilder Closes Studio,Man Sentenced to One Year Probation in Revenge Porn Case, andFormer Teacher Ordered to Pay Victim $50,000 in Revenge Porn Case.
And just like that, he would easily know why I’d fled my hometown. Why I’d moved over two thousand miles from where I’d grown up. Why I’d lost most of my friends and why I was estranged from my family. Why my life was one big fucking mess, and why I was desperate to start over.
The intimate pictures of me that Kenny had blasted all over the internet were no longer live anywhere, at least according to my lawyer, but there was no erasing the news articles about the case.
Sometimes I regretted taking Kenny to court. I’d hoped to ruin his reputation in the same way he’d ruined mine, and I’d also hoped he would get some jail time. The bastard had more than deserved it.
But, unfortunately, disseminating intimate pictures online was only considered a misdemeanor in Connecticut, punishable by up to a year in jail.
