Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
“I don’t know what feels right, Sir,” I tell him.
“That’s okay, too. Don’t fret. How about we get to know each other better? I’ll ask you a question and then you can ask me one, back and forth. How’s that?”
I nod. “Okay.” As long as it’s not too personal. I’m not sure how much I’m willing to reveal about myself.
“I’ll start easy. Favorite color?”
I giggle. “Blue.”
“Really?” His brows shoot up as though he’s shocked, but he’s grinning, and I love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He’s older than me. I don’t care how old he is. I’ve always been attracted to older men. They seem more confident than guys my age. So, I go for that question. “How old are you?”
“Forty. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” I murmur.
“Does my age bother you, Little one?”
I shake my head, sending my blue pigtails flying. “No. Does mine bother you?”
“Not at all. Age is just a number. I might be concerned if you were significantly younger than that, but I figured you were in your mid-twenties. Old enough to know your mind.”
“I definitely don’t know my mind,” I blurt out in response.
He cocks his head to one side. “You don’t think so?”
I shake my head again, equally fast, whacking myself in the face with the ends of my pigtails. “I have no idea who I am right this minute,” I admit. Something about Tate makes me feel like I can open up a bit and be honest. It’s the way he has every bit of his attention on me as if he really cares about my feelings, interests, and thoughts.
I feel special. He never glances away. He’s oblivious to anything else in the room. As if he knows this, he lifts my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. When he lowers our combined hands, he threads his fingers with mine. Instead of returning them to the spot against my thigh, he turns his entire body to face me more directly, bringing a knee up and bending it on the couch. He rests our hands against his own inner thigh.
For a moment, I miss his touch against my bare skin. It’s irrational. Why would I crave that sort of contact with him? It’s too soon.
I want him to know I’m interested even though I might not be able to say the right things yet, so I turn also, more fully facing him, also bending a knee so our shins are lined up.
I instantly feel nervous about this decision. My dress is covering my panties, but I’m much more vulnerable in this position.
Tate reaches his other hand over and sets it on my inner thigh where his knuckles had been stroking me. This is far more direct. His fingers are between my legs, precariously close to my open pussy. Inches now separate my soaked panties from his fingertips.
Tate gives me a slow knowing smile. “I bet you’ll know who you are in no time. You just haven’t let yourself see the real you before. Do you spend much time in Little space outside of the club?”
“No, Sir. Never.”
His brows shoot up again. I’ve surprised him. “Never?”
I shake my head.
“Have you ever had a Daddy before?”
“No, Sir,” I whisper.
He leans closer. “I’m honored you’re willing to share this with me tonight then.” While he holds my gaze, his fingers gently stroke my inner thigh. He has magic powers, and I suspect he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to me. I’m seconds from panting, and I definitely don’t know this sexual Little Sophia.
Chapter Three
“Dinner’s ready,” Layla calls from across the room.
I flinch, feeling like we’ve been caught in the act of something scandalous. That’s ridiculous, of course. We’re both fully clothed. We haven’t even kissed. It’s the lascivious thoughts in my head that make me feel like anyone can see where my brain is with a glance.
Even though I’ve never mixed sex with my Little, how am I supposed to keep them separate with Tate’s fingers touching me so intimately? I’m not sure how I can even rise and walk to the kitchen. My legs will probably buckle.
Tate stands and helps me up, not releasing my fingers.
I’m sad that he’s no longer touching my thigh, but I tamp that down and force my legs to move as he directs me toward the kitchen.
Theo is setting something on the table as we enter. “I didn’t think we needed to be formal tonight. Just an easy meal at the kitchen table.”
“Perfect,” Tate says as he guides me closer.
Theo sets a hand on Layla’s shoulder. “Potty first, Little one.” He turns to face us. “Excuse us for a minute.”
I hold my breath as he leads her out of the kitchen with a hand at her neck. Is he going to the bathroom with her? My face heats as a door closes nearby, and I realize he has most definitely entered the bathroom with her.