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Daddy:Daddy’s going to take good care of you.
ChapterTwenty-One
Jolie
The text I woke up to the next morning was like air.
Daddy:I look forward to seeing you tonight.
I kept looking at it, again and again, like if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to breathe right. I wouldn’t be able to survive without this precious thing that he’d just given me. A thing that I didn’t even know I needed so bad, and now that I had it, I could no longer live without it.
Desire.
His desire to see me. To touch me.
Was this obsession? Because if Alyssa thought I was obsessed with him before…
Since he showed up at Mom’s place to fuck me in the kitchen and on the floor, and the next day told me he was a Dom, I hadn’t told Alyssa anything. She’d warned me not to get hurt, and as far as she knew, I hadn’t seen him since she gave me that warning. There was no way I could tell her what was happening right now.
How I couldn’t stop looking at that text, sneaking hits of it like it was shots of pure oxygen.
I couldn’t tell her about the Daddy thing.
Or the Dom thing.
I wasn’t sure why. It felt… private. A him-and-me only thing.
Aunt Madeleine was the only one I’d talked to about any of it.
A little after that morning text, he sent me a link to a recipe for a “hangover cure smoothie.” I only had a couple of drinks last night and I wasn’t hungover, but I made the smoothie for me and the girls and drank it anyway.
He also sent me instructions. Orders.
Daddy:If you drank last night, drink lots of water today. Eat well. Bring whatever you need to be comfortable spending the night at my place. I’ll send a cab to pick you up at 7:00. You’ll be eating dinner with me.
I was beginning to realize that seeing a Dom would involve him bossing me around in more areas than just the bedroom. Maybe I should’ve been offended by that? But I really had no objections to anything he said.
Quite the opposite.
I was flying. Floating off the ground all day, fucking high on his attention. Just a few texts from him and it felt like I’d slipped into a warm bath.
The feeling stayed with me all day.
And I kept thinking of that thing he said to me:Daddy’s someone who takes care of you.
I’d never really thought of myself as someone who needed to be taken care of before. Yes, I’d lived with my mom until I was twenty. I’d struggled with money, making rent, jobs, school, figuring out who the hell I was in life. And relationships; I’d struggled with those, too. I’d never had a boyfriend or a lover who said he wanted to take care of me, though. I’d never had one who expressed, verbally or physically, that he wanted to take care of my sexual needs, either.
But every time I thought of Shane taking care of me, taking care of those needs, it had me low-key vibrating with arousal and anticipation. Which was inconvenient as hell when I was living in my mom’s house.
As soon as I got back from the island, midafternoon, I got packed up and ready for my night at Shane’s place and did my best to avoid her. I made an excuse to skip dinner with her and Jacob, telling her that I was too busy working on wedding stuff and I’d grab a bite later. Just before seven o’clock, I left her a vague note on the kitchen counter that I’d gone out with the girls and I might not be back tonight, out of courtesy.
I was waiting out on the street by the time the cab rolled up.
I’d brought a tote bag with overnight stuff, like he told me to. I didn’t bother bringing anything to sleep in because if I got any sleep at all tonight, I was pretty sure I’d be doing it naked.
Or maybe wearing something of his?
Wearing a guy’s clothes was a major hot spot for me. Like, fantasy level shit. Especially if the guy smelled as good as Shane did. Wearinghisclothes was really not something I probably should’ve been fantasizing about, though.
