Page 255 of Double Daddies
Her tongue made a reappearance, sticking out at him as she blew a raspberry.
Ignoring her even though his lips twitched, Clay studied the exam table. The contraption was ridiculously expensive, more like a gynecological Transformer than a piece of medical equipment. It functioned as both a chair and a table, with the arm and leg rests fully adjustable.
Right now, it was completely flat, which suited his needs just fine.
Grasping her shoulders, Clay turned Avery to face it, letting her shuffle carefully around with her clothes hindering any sudden movements. At least she couldn’t bolt with her pantsaround her knees. “One last thing before cuddles and chocolate, Avery. Bend over and relax.”
She did the exact opposite, straightening to her full height and squaring her shoulders. “I already had my meds!”
“I’m not going to fuck your ass, sweetling, unless you choose not to do as I ask.”
She hesitated, mulling it over, then heaved a sigh so full of exasperation, only a Little could pull it off. Dramatically, she flopped herself over the table with an adorable grunt.
Silently, Isaac stepped beside him, handing over a tube of gel before retreating to the visitor chairs and taking a seat. His presence didn’t seem to affect Avery in the slightest—either she didn’t mind him being there, or she’d forgotten he was in the room.
Popping the lid off the tube, Clay squeezed a generous dollop of cool gel into his palm. “This will feel cold, Avery, but it’ll help.”
Her squeal was sharp enough to shatter glass. Ignoring it, Clay slathered the gel over every inch of her butt, rubbing it in with a light touch until her struggles faded and she moaned in relief. She relaxed, her breathing slowing. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Submission was a beautiful thing, especially when the sub was inherently strong.
“Anytime, sweetling.”
All that was left was bundling her into his arms, sitting down in a comfy chair, and spoiling her with cuddles and treats. He was a man who believed firmly in the benefits of aftercare and giving it without restraint; not only for the sub’s wellbeing, but his own.
Aftercare was a holy time, in his opinion. A time to reflect and connect, to bond and grow when defenses were down. Whether it took twenty minutes or ninety, it was his happy place.
Now, it was time to show Avery it could be her safe, happy place too.
Tristan
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Grinning, Tristan slammed into Mack’s bear hug, slapping him enthusiastically on the back. “Rest, relaxation, and reconnaissance. Needed some downtime and figured I’d come check this place out, seeing as it stole my best friend from under my nose.”
Mack snorted. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks for that.” He leaned back, assessing Tristan critically. “Rest and relaxation I can understand, Tris; you’re looking a bit ragged around the edges. Your harem not satisfying you?”
Oh, the barb stung right where the asshole aimed it. Knowing Mack was pulling his leg, Tristan brushed it aside. “Sex is the elixir of life, Mack. Not that you’ll benefit from that now you’re a married man, bound bytwoballs and chains.”
“On the contrary, my friend.” Sheer joy glimmered in Mack’s eyes, telling Tristan he was actually happy with the way his life had played out so far. “Back to the reconnaissance part—are you considering putting your trust fund to better use than jet-setting around the planet, banging every available piece of strange?”
Unoffended, Tristan shrugged. Mack more than anyone knew how… promiscuous he’d been since he was old enough to understand what his erection was for; high school had been his playground, then college. The real world… well, it was just a mega-expansion of that playground, with thousands upon thousands of women to choose from on a daily basis.
Why then was his attention fixated on a single small, curvaceous woman who—if what he’d seen earlier was anyindication—was already taken? Not that stealing her away was an issue for him, he’d done it before with women who saw nothing but his money.
The grass was always greener until someone mowed it.
“I’m not scoping out the club to start one of my own, if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmm.” Mack gestured to the clubhouse. “We can talk about it inside. No point standing out here when we could have a drink. I’ll introduce you to my Liam and Sierra.”
Not just possessive over the wife, Tristan noted, but his husband as well. His resolve to make Mack see the error of his decision wavered. Even the mention of his spouses brought radiant happiness to his friend’s face—something he’d never seen written there before; at least, not as strongly as this.
“Sure.” Abandoning his plan to spend an hour napping in his cabin, Tristan spun on his heel and walked with Mack back the way he’d just come. “So married life suits you, huh? Being a club bigshot and a husband is what fulfills you?”
“Not so much a bigshot,” Mack corrected with a laugh. “I mainly assist the security team, adjusting the system and adding to it. When I’m not in the office with Grit, I have the occasional DM shifts, or help guests with scenes if they’re struggling with certain elements.”
“Oh, the high life, then.”
