Page 13 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
Of course, I was attracted to Cameron. And I’d even suspected he was a boy given the types of books he wrote, but to think . . .
No, I couldn’t be . . .
It just didn’t make sense that I . . .
Wait—was I a . . .
I couldn’t even think the word, but my existence had fundamentally changed at the thought.
Realizing I was trans was big enough, and a top at that, but a . . . a . . . aDaddy, too?
But just as my trans revelation had, this felt right, a deepknowingthat settled in my bones the minute I’d started to accept it.
I was a Daddy. And I wanted to be his.
“Sam? You okay?”
I shook my head to clear it then eked out, “Uh, yeah, I’m good. My brain went someplace else.” I blinked a few times before looking over at him. “Sorry.”
He smiled gently and waved me off. “It’s fine. Happens when you get old.”
“Hey!” I threw back, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “I’m not even forty yet.”
“Just two more years,” he quipped with a wink.
“Shut it, jerk. You’re not far behind me.”
He raised a single finger into the air. “Oh, but Iambehind you, thank you very much. And that’s what counts.”
I smirked, unable to resist that setup. “And here I thought you were a bottom?”
We had very few secrets between us.
He gasped dramatically, playing aghast as only he could complete with a flying hand to his chest, but I only snickered, thankful he’d teased me out of my stupor.
“Just for that, I may forbid you from reading Cameron’s next book, whenever it comes out.”
One of his eyebrows raised. He knew I was jealous that he could do that, the asshole. “Cameron? Are we referring to him by his first name now?”
The shit-eating grin that spread across my face made my cheeks hurt. “Yup.”
Alex shook his head. “I swear you have a crush on the guy.”
I swallowed, turning to stare at my computer screen a little too intently. “I don’t even know him.”
“Ha!” he cried. “You do! I knew it.”
I waved him off without looking his way. The words on the unfinished press release I had open on my screen were all blending together, but he didn’t have to know that. I felt his gaze on me while I tried to focus. After a few long seconds, I started to edit the words on the page, adding a comma here, changinga word there, accepting—but more often, rejecting—spellcheck’s suggestions. I got so deep into it that I’d almost forgotten about Alex’s too-true assertion. And about my revelation prior.
But then my coworker bestie broke the comfortable silence between us. “So have you read any of Teresa Quincy’s books?”
I gasped, whipping my head toward him. “Yes, oh my god! I love her books!” She’d made her name in the Daddy/boy romance world, and her books were on the hardcore end of the spectrum. “But aren’t they, like . . . tookinky”—I whispered the word—“for you?”
His eyebrow wiggle made me want to snicker, which was completely inappropriate work behavior. “As you well know, you can’t swing a cat in the gay romance world without hitting a Daddy book. The Daddy/boy book of Cameron’s you recommended was intriguing, so I may have found one or two on my own. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
I couldn’t let that one slip by without poking at it. “One or two?”
Nowheblushed, just a little. “One or two . . . dozen.”
