Page 24 of Valentine's Day Daddy

“Another good idea,” I say.

We both stand up and she turns around, still smiling, then gives me a gentle kiss. Without another word, Ashton takes my hand and leads me toward what I assume is her room and to the shower within it.

11

“It was amazing,” I tell Emma. “It was the most amazing sexual experience I’ve ever had.”

She laughs. “It was literally the only sexual experience you’ve had.”

“Yeah.”

I look down and frown. As incredible as last night with Ezra had been, and even though I’m still glowing and tingling because of it, I’m conflicted—mainly because I’m not more conflicted. I’m not a sleep around kind of girl and yet, I had no trouble dropping my panties for Ezra. More than that, I had no trouble calling him… daddy. I never thought of myself as the kind of girl who’d say something like that. It always sounded so weird and so vile to me. But I let myself get caught up in the moment and it just came out. What did that say about me?

“I feel like I should feel some sort of regret or something. I mean, that was so far out of character for me,” I say.

When I say it was out of character, I mean everything—especially the whole daddy thing. But I have no intention of giving Emma all the details. We share just about everything but there are some things we just don’t need to know about each other.

“Maybe you don’t feel bad because it was right,” Emma says.

A knock sounds at the door and as Emma jumps up off the couch to answer it, I sit and think. There’s no question that being with him felt natural. It felt… right. Even calling him daddy had felt right. But did it only feel right because it felt so damn good? Or was it because Ezra makes me feel something no other man has ever made me feel before… safe? I feel so small next to him and he always makes me feel protected. Like I never have to fear a thing when I’m with him. It feels good, but what does it mean? Does it mean anything?

“Am I just overthinking all of this?” I ask.

“You always do,” she replies. “Hey, Ash, there’s a delivery for you.”

I give myself a little shake and pull myself back to the present. Turning around, I see Emma setting the last of a dozen boxes on the dining room table and jump to my feet.

“What’s all that?” I ask.

"I don't know, but all these boxes are from Vivienne's… that's a high-end dress boutique. And they’re for you.”

“For me?”

Emma looks me up and down with a mischievous smile on her face and laughs. “For your first time, you must have been pretty fucking amazing in the sack to get a dozen dresses from Vivienne’s sent to you.”

Almost immediately, I recall the sound of Ezra’s voice and the feel of his body. The sex had been great but when I’d called him daddy, it took things to a completely different level. It was like I’d unlocked something inside of him and let some beast inside of him loose. He’d had this frenetic, almost desperate energy and he’d taken me to heights of bliss I never even knew existed.

“Yeah, I guess I was,” I reply and stick my tongue at her.

Together, we open up the boxes and find a dozen different dresses—all of them in the vintage style I love. Each dress had matching undergarments and heels. Emma and I both stand there, looking at the array of dresses spread out on the table before us in silence for a few long minutes. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. Emma seems to notice something and steps forward, extracting an envelope from one of the boxes. She quickly pulls out the note that’s tucked inside, unfolds it, and begins to read.

“Last night was amazing. Looking forward to making more memories tonight. Pick an outfit—they’ll look incredible on you. I’ll send a car for you so please be ready by six. Happy Valentine’s day. Ezra.”

Emma hands me the note and I look at it. “Oh yeah, I forgot today is Valentine’s Day.”

Emma turns to me with that wide, suggestive smile on her face. “Damn, girl. You must be a born porn star to have this kind of effect on a man.”

I give her a wink and a smile. “I must be,” I say. “Now, help me pick out an outfit and get ready for my date tonight.”

* * *

“It’s a beautiful night,”I say.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you though.”

“Well, you’re the one who dressed me,” I say.

“No, I sent you some dresses. You’re the one who makes it look good.”

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