Page 41 of Spencer's Satisfaction
Biting my lip, I gaze at him sheepishly through lowered lashes. “Is naughty.”
The adult part of my brain can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. He does a pretty impressive job of schooling his features and nodding seriously. “Exactly. Little boys get excited, but only big boys should be doing anything about it.”
I know these rules are Spencer specific. There are a lot of Littles in the online community I’ve joined recently who have sexy times while they’re little, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I kind of like him setting rules like this anyway and, even if we ever do experiment with sex during Little time, I hope these rules don’t change. It’s fun to feel a bit naughty in this playful way.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I tell him, the ‘r’s coming out as ‘w’s.
Any remaining sternness in him melts away instantly.
He’s such a marshmallow daddy. I love him.
My brain stops.
Did I just…?
Do I…?
I gulp and my heart hammers.
It’s only been a few weeks. I can’t possibly love him, can I?
I mean, sure, I had a crush on him (or, at least, on an imaginary construction of him) before I even met him. And he has been my first for a lot of experiences, including unlocking this part of me that makes me feel absolutely complete andright.
But…love? Really? Already?
“Where’d you go, angel?” Daddy asks with quiet amusement, cupping my jaw with his large hand and smoothing his thumb over my cheek.
“Spaceship,” I panic and blurt the first word that comes to me.
Thankfully, Daddy just laughs and shakes his head. “Okay. Well, does that mean you want to wear a spaceship t-shirt?”
I agree quickly and almost sag with relief.
Crisis averted.
* * *
Later on in the night, long after we’ve eaten dinner (slipping Frank little pieces of roast whenever he begged loudly) and have stacked the dishwasher, Spencer and I are cuddled up in his queen sized bed together.
“Thank you for everything tonight,” I tell him, once again ‘big’ and able to articulate my thoughts properly. “It was just what I needed.”
“It was what I needed, too,” he says, running his fingers over the back of my scalp in a light head massage that makes me want to purr. After a few more moments, he asks, “Did you want to talk about it? Why you were so upset when I picked you up from work, I mean?”
My lips flatten into a firm line. I’d managed to push most of my disastrous shift out of my mind for the night. “It was just a bad shift,” I answer. “Nothing went right, customers were jerks, I broke a couple glasses…” I exhale and shake my head. “I don’t deal well with people getting loud and aggressive. I just…broke, I guess.”
It had been humiliating bursting into tears when I hung up my apron for the night. I’d hidden in the bathroom, concentrating on my breathing to try and get myself under control before I went out to meet Spencer at the curb. Once again, I can’t help thinking that if Gerald would just let me cook instead of deal with customers, I might actually like my job. Sadly, he seems to feel the same way about his, and as the boss, he’s decided I should suffer instead. And I have been.
Mustering a smile, I stop to think about everything that happened after my shift ended. “But you made it all better,” I tell Spencer.
“I’m happy to hear that,” he bends down to press his lips to mine in a sweet, chaste kiss that floods my body with jittery, happy feelings.
I love him.
The words bounce around in my head after he pulls away, smiling dopily down at me.
I love him. I love him. I love him.
I can’t get them to stop, but I’m terrified of them all the same. I’veneverfelt this way for another man. For anyone. The only person I’ve ever truly loved is my sister, and this is quite obviously different to that on a number of levels.
