Page 19 of Strict Daddy

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. My cheeks flushed as I met his gaze, finding warmth and sincerity there.

"I want that too," I said softly. "But I'm worried about . . . complications. You're my trainer, and now my Dom. Is it okay for us to be more?"

"If anything ever feels uncomfortable, we address it immediately," he continued, his voice gentle but firm.

"Okay," I agreed, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling in my chest.

"Poppy," he said, his voice low and warm. "I'd like to spend more time with you outside of our sessions. Would you be interested in going on a . . . date with me?"

My eyes widened in surprise and delight. A bright smile spread across my face, my heart racing with joy. "Yes," I replied eagerly, barely able to contain my excitement. "I'd love that."

Byron's answering smile was radiant, making him look younger and more carefree than I'd ever seen him. "Wonderful," he said, reaching out to take my hand. "How about dinner this Saturday?"

As we began to plan the details of our first date, I felt a heady mix of anticipation and nervous energy. This was really happening. Byron and I were taking a step beyond trainer and client, beyond Dom and sub. We were venturing into new territory, and despite the complexities, I couldn't wait to see where this journey would lead us.

Chapter 8

I stood in front of my closet, heart fluttering as I surveyed the options before me. My fingers trailed over the soft fabrics, lingering on a little black dress I hadn't worn in ages. With a deep breath, I slipped it on, the material hugging my curves in a way that made me feel beautiful and daring.

It wasn’t exactly a Little-seeming outfit, but it was what I felt like wearing today. I wanted Byron to really notice me.

As I smoothed the dress over my hips, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes widened slightly, taking in how different I looked compared to when Byron and I first met. It had only been a couple of weeks, but I did look slightly different. Tighter. Stronger. But still me.

"You've come so far," I whispered to my reflection, a small smile playing on my lips.

I applied a final swipe of lipstick, the deep red shade adding a touch of boldness to my look. My hands trembled slightly as I fastened delicate gold earrings, excitement and nerves mingling in my chest.

The doorbell chimed, sending a jolt through me. I took one last glance in the mirror, squared my shoulders, and made my way to the door.

When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. Byron stood there, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored charcoal suit. It was the first time I’d ever seen him in non-gym gear, and I was impressed. How did he manage to look even more sexy than he did with almost no clothes on? His blue eyes sparkled as they roamed over me appreciatively.

"Poppy," he said, his voice low and warm. "You look absolutely stunning."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."

He chuckled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

As we walked to his car, Byron's hand rested gently on the small of my back, sending tingles up my spine.

"So," he said casually, opening the passenger door for me. "Are you ready for a night of mystery and intrigue?"

I laughed, settling into the plush leather seat. "Is that what you have planned? Should I be worried?"

Byron's eyes glinted mischievously as he slid behind the wheel. "Only if you're afraid of seriously good French cuisine."

I let out a goofy laugh. “I don’t really think I know what French cuisine is.”

“Oh? That’s exciting. You know, my family is France originally.”

“I did not know that.”

Byron flashed a faint smile, his eyes distant for a moment as if lost in memories. "Yes, my parents came over from France when I was just a baby. We settled here, and they worked hard to give me the opportunities they never had. It's why I'm so driven, Poppy. They instilled in me this fire to succeed, to push boundaries, to always reach for more." His voice carried a mix ofpride and gratitude. “And,” he said with a grin, “a love of French food.”

Soon, we arrived at our destination – L'Escargot. The brasserie exuded an old-world charm, with ivy-clad walls and wrought-iron lanterns casting intricate patterns on the stone façade. A soft murmur of laughter and clinking glasses spilled from the open windows, inviting us into a realm of culinary delights.

Byron held the door open for me, and as I stepped inside, a wave of fragrant aromas enveloped me – garlic, butter, and herbs mingling in the air. The interior was cozy yet elegant, with flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the linen-draped tables.

It felt like a grown-up, sophisticated place. It was so wonderful that I could be both child-like and mature with Byron, like he appreciated every side of me.

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