Page 20 of A LIttle Christmas: Samm
They wind up with some middle-aged schlep because the call of the dick is too strong, which is something Samuel understands. Because he’s also going to say yes to some middle-aged dick this weekend.
He’s not going to get a sexy daddy who works out a lot, has money, and a full head of hair. There is no Daddy Demarco equivalent in his future. Ugh, this is all so annoying and stressful. He doesn’t even want to jerk off.
“That man is not gay,” he says to himself in the mirror. He splashes water on his face, dries his hands and face, and heads back to the table. “Can I get another drink?” he asks the waitress on his way back.
“Your boyfriend said you had to work tomorrow. Didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“He is not my— he cut me off?” Samuel demands, voice rising with indignation.
She shrugs. “Four shots in twenty minutes is enough to give anyone a headache in the morning. Pie helps. We have cherry, apple, and lemon cream?”
“Uh, I don’t know if we’re staying that long. Thanks,” he says, and then wishes he hadn’t. She’s denying him booze! He needs it to get through this. And why is she deferring to Bryan?
He knows the answer. Because everyone defers to him. He’s imposing and decisive. A natural leader. He’s the Daddy Dom of their office.
The real deal.
He’s also just about always right.
Which means Samuel probably doesn’t need more alcohol. It would just lower his inhibitions, and then he’d do something foolish, and then he really would get fired.
He goes back to the table and sits down. Their gazes lock as he slides into the seat. Mr. Demarco really is stunningly handsome. He spends a lot of time outdoors and has that healthy, tanned glow that some men get. There are some lines at the corner of his safe, brown eyes, and where he smiles, and there’s something so sexy about that, as if he’s wise and has life experience.His hair is dark brown and there’s the faintest hint of gray at his temple.
He is just so calm and steady. What would he even look like if he lost control? If he was moved to passion? His stomach flips, like there’s a large fish in there. Then all the blood in his body goes right back down to between his legs.
This is awful.
“I guess, if you were really thinking about being with men, you could go on Grindr,” Samuel says. Which he didn’t realize he was going to say until it happened. “You’d want to experiment.”
“That’s probably true,” he says, but it’s dismissive. “But. My midlife sexuality crisis isn’t actually why we’re here and can wait. Is there really no way you can find a normal boyfriend andjust incorporate spanking and consensual non-consent into the relationship?”
“How do you know what that is?” This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him in his entire life. Nothing else will ever be as embarrassing as this moment.
“You wrote it in your email. It seemed very important to you.”
“Yes. It is.” He looks down, unable to deny it.
“I know it isn’t any of my business, but can you tell me why?”
“Why do you think?” he asks, because there is only so much vulnerability one man can be expected to endure.
His boss takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I suppose being desired so intensely might make one feel… wanted or even loved?”
“Safe,” Samuel says.
His boss nods. “Alright,” he sounds solemn. As if he really does want to understand and isn’t trying to humiliate Samuel.
“Plus, it’s hot as hell.”
Mr. Demarco takes a long swallow of beer. As a response, it doesn’t give Samuel a lot to go on.
“I don’t want it in a normal way. I don’t want to be equals and then occasionally play. I need it to be real and meaningful. I want that to be the relationship. It isn’t meaningful if one can turn it on and off easily. Having a Daddy and… that is all I’ve thought about since I was 16.”
Mr. Demarco leans forward, catching his gaze. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until you found the right man, then? Since it’s important?”
“I’m sick of waiting. I don’t care how terrible or ugly a man he is, it’s just time. I’ve been living like a monk for years, and I just wantsomething.” A lump of emotion lodges in his throat, and he has to swallow a few times before he can take a sip of water.
Mr. Demarco holds out another napkin towards him. His expression is soft in a way Samuel has never seen. “Here.”
