Page 265 of Double Daddies
Bad girl, Avery. Bad, bad girl.
Dismissing the fleeting images, she snagged the closest bottle to hand and dumped a handful of rose-scented gel into her palm. Wrinkling her nose as the only woman in the cabin who smelledlike roses was Clara, she lathered herself up in stolen shower gel and resisted the urge to imagine Clay’s rough hands stroking her all over, or Tristan’s smooth ones gliding up and down her back.
Calling them Daddy wasn’t too big a price to pay in the grand scheme of things, was it?
Adam’s betrayal was still fresh after only a few weeks, but worse than knowing what he’d been up to was the loneliness, even in a cabin full of potential friends. He hadn’t broken her heart, barely even dented it, he’d just… made her feel worthless.
Clay…
Something inside her yearned for what he offered. She felt safe with him even after he lit her ass up like the fourth of freaking July, and he was smart, funny, with that playful element she felt resonate within herself.
God, it really was rude just to go to bed, wasn’t it? Not even a text to cancel?
It would piss her off if they did that to her.
She rinsed herself off, cut the water, then reached for the towel. No, she couldn’t in good conscience blow them off, which meant putting effort into making herself at least semi-presentable. She doubted they’d be thrilled if she turned up wearing sweats.
Netflix and chill, boys?
Hell, that was brazen, even for her.
When she’d wrapped the towel around herself and found a smaller one for her hair, Avery padded from the bathroom, down the empty hallway bisecting the cabin’s bedrooms, all the way to the end where her room was located.
The space was far less than what she was used to, but she quite liked it. She’d made it feel like home with her favorite Mallows and books on the shelves. The peg loom rug her grandmother had woven for Avery’s twelfth birthday was on the floor by the double bed.
The duvet cover, sheets, and pillowcases were all Squishmallow, but she always covered her entire bed with a spread, hiding her secret, just in case one of her roommates got nosy and broke the cabin rule of no snooping in other people’s rooms.
She had like half an hour before she was supposed to meet the Daddy Doms in The Nursery. A quick ten-minute nap wouldn’t hurt anyone; at least then she might not fall asleep on them in mid-conversation.
She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled open the top drawer of the matching table to retrieve her alarm clock. More often than not, it ended up being tossed in there after several snoozes on the occasional mornings when her energy was down in the dungeons.
After setting the alarm for ten minutes, with a reminder in fifteen, Avery flopped backward on the bed in just the towel and closed her eyes. Ten minutes would fly by, but those minutes were rejuvenating.
She’d be refreshed and ready to take on two Doms, no problem.
Tristan
She didn’t show up.
After waiting for forty-five minutes in the Nursery, watching two Little boys and a Little girl playing in the gigantic ball pit, it was perfectly fucking obvious the sweet, shy baker had stood them up.
It wasn’t something he was accustomed to—no one in his life, aside from his parents, had ever dared not turn up at an agreedtime and place. It just wasn’t done, mainly because the women who ran in his circles knew they only got one shot at his bed, and if they fucked it up, there was no second invitation.
But Avery… he hadn’t expected it from her.
Part of him was angry, mainly because he’d spent the remainder of the afternoon filled with something he’d never felt before when it came to a woman—anticipation. Not of fucking her, but simply seeing her and being in her presence. It was a bewildering experience, to be so enamored with a woman who showed so little interest in him, his existence barely registered on her radar.
Glancing at Clay, sitting in an armchair reserved for parental figures and guardians, Tristan heaved a sigh. “Guess that’s that, then. A fucking waste of time on all fronts.”
Sharp blue eyes lifted lazily. “You finished pacing yet?”
“Yes. No.”
“Let me know when you’re done.”
How the guy could be so fucking patient was beyond him. For the last three-quarters of an hour, he’d checked his watch infrequently, simply sitting in the goddamn chair and biding his time as though they hadn’t been left looking like idiots.
The anger clashed with a surge of disappointment as Tristan stopped wearing a path in the carpet, throwing himself into the chair beside Clay’s. “Why aren’t you mad?”
