AllFreeNovel
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I want to be free. Free to dress the way I want. Wear dresses, panties, and love who I am.
But mainly? I want a Daddy.
Well, that’s the tricky part.
"Hey, Eli. I wish you’d give me another chance."
Eli is a Daddy I’ve been chatting to on the Italian version of FetApp.
We met while discussing Little Store—the only shop in Sicily where I felt comfortable enough to try on femboy clothes.
He’s six-foot-five, sexy as hell, and he’s always wanted a femboy to dote on and adore.
This past week, however, he told me that he met another boy. "Quit speaking to me. It was never going to happen anyway."
My phone buzzes.
Eli:If you don't stop bothering me and my new princess, I’m going to call the cops.
Tears well in my eyes as I shove my phone in my back pocket.
Why are men so fucking mean?
He didn’t have to talk to me or even DM me in the first place.
Hell, we only started speaking earlier this month—how did he meet someone new already?
Eli must’ve been chatting to them the entire time. You were a sidepiece—someone he didn’t truly care about.
Spotting a bench on the side of the road, I sit down and slump forward.
Sniffling, I rub my eyes, hating that I’m so pathetic and weak.
God—all I want to do is find a Daddy who accepts me.Like my brothers’ partners have.
It’s notfairthat being a femboy makes finding a Daddy so difficult. It’s just not.
I’m gearing up to head back home and binge TV all afternoon when the sounds of footsteps approaching reach my ears.
"Hey. Is everything all right?"
I lift my gaze—and forget how to breathe. Standing in front of me is the hottest, most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He has thick, Italian eyebrows and a nose that screamsRoman sculpture.His jaw is chiseled and sharp, and the muscles that bulge in his T-shirt make my mouth water.
He holds a leather leash that, when I glance down, I notice is connected to a teacup poodle.
Before I can respond, the poodle leaps onto my lap and licks my cheeks.
It'sroof-ing and wagging its tail.
The man yanks it back. "Off, girl. Don't bother him."
I fight a laugh. "No, it’s all right. I appreciate it—thanks."
"Rosey Sunshine is a comfort poodle," the man explains, his voice so deep and low my heart melts. "She senses when people are upset—and helps them out. We’re still working on theconsentpart of the equation. She can’t leap onto strangers and bombard them with kisses."
I reach down and pet Rosey Sunshine. "It’s okay. Really."
