Page 15 of Kylan

My gaze shot to his. “Yes.”

Holy shit. He understood?

“Yes. Empowered, and a bit naughty and a lot pretty, and I don’t know why...” I sighed out a laugh. “I don’t want to be a girl. I’m not a girl. I never felt I was female. I never wished I was. It’s not like that. It’s just femboy stuff.”

“You like wearing skirts.”

I nodded. “And painting my nails, and sometimes I’ll wear some make-up to feel extra special. And my daddies love it. It makes them wild. I’ll wear pretty skirts and they make such a fuss. They call me princess and they’re so gentle and kind...”

I wasn’t supposed to be saying this shit.

“Please tell me they rail you so fucking thoroughly while you’re wearing a skirt,” Fitch said, squeezing my hand. “Like, that is seriously the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

I laughed, embarrassed and relieved and yet, still my chest ached...

“Oh my god, they do,” Fitch mumbled. “What did you say before? One holds you while the other fucks you? While you’re wearing a skirt?”

I mimicked locking my lips with a key and throwing it away.

“That’s a yes. Jesus, Ky. That’s going straight into my spank bank.”

“Gross.”

“I’m one hundred percent going to tell Dom to buy me a cheerleading skirt to go with my football crop top.”

“You are such a whore.”

He seemed genuinely pleased, pulled out his phone, and shot Dom a quick text. I didn’t need to read the screen to know he was putting in the request. He hit Send and did a little butt wiggle on my bed, and his phone rang a second later. He squealed as he answered.

I could hear Dom’s deep rumble of a voice, and whatever he said made Fitch laugh. He stood up and turned to me. “One second, daddy,” he said into the phone before pressing it to his chest. Then he bent down and kissed my forehead. “Love you, Ky. Thank you for telling me.”

His words burned something in me, making the ache in my chest worse.

“You need to call them,” Fitch whispered. “Now, Ky. Call them now.”

He left my room, his phone back to his ear, and I was left alone with his instruction and deep sense of longing.

I took my phone, found Marek’s number, my thumb hovering over the Call button.

I’d never done this before. I’d never initiated contact or even called them for anything other than things like locations or pick-up times.

But I’d never felt like this, either.

Not since I was lost and alone, barely nineteen, and homeless.

Fuck the ache in my chest was burning now.

I needed them, and what Fitch said was right. Ishould be able to call them when I needed them, not just when they wanted me.

I opted for Marek first because he was the soft-hearted one, the tender one, caring and gentle.

My god, I needed him.

I hit Call, my heart hammering, fully expecting it to go through to voicemail. But even hearing his voice would make me feel better...

But the call answered and it wasn’t Marek’s voice I heard. It was Leon.

“Kylan,” he said. His big gruff voice felt like his warm arms wrapping around me, and it pulled a soft sob out of my lungs, and I burst into tears.

---