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"Bad ex-Daddies are the worst." Leaf shakes his head to commiserate with me.
"I appreciate you saying that." I push out a breath. "I thought mine was the one. That was before he showed me who he really was."
A dark expression drifts across Leaf’s features. "I know what you mean."
All at once, it hits me that I’m not the only one with a tragic past around here. As I peer at Leaf, finally gathering the courage to look into those perfect, round eyes, I can’t help but feel a connection building between us.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Now, I’m the one to ask Leaf about his past. How ironic—I was so beside myself that he had to bring me here so I wouldn’t curl up in a sad little ball in the playroom, but now he’s opening up to me.
Leaf gnashes his teeth. "Not tonight. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you."
He fumbles around a nearby shelf for something. When he finds what he’s searching for, he sets it on my tummy.
I tremble when I realize what it is. Five Little Piggies: The Illustrated Edition.
This was my favorite book growing up. As a boy, my mother loved playing the piggy game on my toes.
After she cut me off when she discovered I was gay, I often played the game by myself, pretending that I had a Daddy to do it with, even though I didn’t.
The one time I asked Daddy Thomas to humor me, he sneered. Said I was too Little.
Looking back, it’s clear he only wanted to fuck me, not be my actual Daddy.
"I love this book."
"I’m glad." Leaf’s voice is soothing, deep, comforting. "It’s one of my personal favorites."
I squirm under my blanket. When Leaf cracks open the cover, I fight an internal battle not to place my hand on his.
Reading to his Little is something every good Daddy ought to do. It’s a rite of passage—a bonding activity that transcends all others. Hot, dirty sex, even though I love it, pales in comparison to listening to your Daddy read you a good, heartwarming book—with a happy ending.
Leaf places his finger on the first page. "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none."
I giggle as my toes curl under my cozy blanket. As Leaf’s soothing voice washes over me, flooding my senses, filling me with coziness, I can’t help but feel that, if Leaf had been Daddy Thomas, everything would’ve turned out differently.
I wouldn’t feel too shy or insecure to come out and play—because Leaf would’ve encouraged me to be my true self, to own my Littleness, not to run from it or hide it under a bushel, no.
Leaf would’ve instructed me to let my Little light shine. To shout it from the rooftops—or at least from the corners of the club playroom.
Sometime later, I drift off to sleep. Leaf reads to me the entire time.
Chapter 3
Leaf
Here he is.
That’s what I think when the limousine I ordered to pick Cory up from his studio apartment arrives in front of my flat.
The boy from the club, the adorable, blushing angel in the palm-tree onesie, at last has arrived—to spend the entire weekend with me.
How lucky am I? Last week, I was convinced I’d never find a boy again. Damien trampled on my heart and made me insecure.
Cory is a ray of sunshine—different from Damien in every way. Even at the beginning of our relationship, Damien never allowed me to read to him.
Reading is one of those activities that makes me glad to be a Daddy. It allows me to grow close to my boy, to transcend the boundaries between us, and bond over a sweet, magical tale.
Cory emerges from the limousine. "Hi, Leaf."
