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Lacing my fingers with his, I circled the couch to grab my glass and then led him to the kitchen. I’d already set out a second wineglass, so I reluctantly released Cass to get him a drink. His attention on me was like a caress to my nape and back. “What are you thinking about?” I asked without turning around in case it would ease the slight tenseness of his posture.
“Nothing much. I’m just nervous. I haven’t dated since I met Martin, that was my husband. Until recently, it hurt too much to think about moving on, but recently, I’ve started to wonder if he’d be disappointed that I was still mourning him three years later.”
“Mourning doesn’t have a time period,” I turned around and handed him the glass, and he mouthed thank you. “I don’t know him, so I can’t tell you what he’d want you to do.”
“I wanted to be here… with you.” He spoke quietly as he blushed again.
“I wanted you here, too. Maybe we’re both a little scared to start again. I’m a lot older than I used to be, and, yes, I have middle-aged insecurity. Which I’m sure is natural. Tonight isn’t for anything other than getting to know each other without an audience. As much as I’d love to see if you’d like me to be your Daddy, it’s not a requisite.”
“How do you know I’d be a good boy?” he asked, and then he took a swallow of his wine. The sound of his glass touching the top of the kitchen table made the softest tap. He crossed his arms over his chest.
When I stepped forward, I reached out and tapped one of his forearms. “Defensive posture, don’t lock me out.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile and gave in to my compulsion to have him in my arms again. Dinner needed another half an hour, so we had time to talk more. My thumb slipped into the belt loop just under the small of his back and gently eased him against my chest. His arms unfolded to spread his hands on my upper chest.
His attention seemed to be focused on the tuft of hair exposed by the buttons I’d left undone. It was as silver as the hair on my head. My free hand came up to cup his cheek, and my thumb traced his cheekbone.
“I think you’ll be the sweetest boy.” I leaned in to kiss one cheek. “But you have the potential for brattiness. I can already tell. I may have a weakness for a Brat who acts up.” He gasped a bit as I fisted my hand in the back of his jeans and urged him to sit on the table. “Have you wanted a Daddy before, baby?”
He shook his head. “I’d never even considered it until I moved here. There seems to be a lot of Daddies around.” Cass whined as I slipped my hand under the back of his shirt and stroked along the silky skin of his lower back.
“I don’t know about other Daddies, because every Daddy with his Little or Littles is different. But I’m at my happiest when I have a boy to pamper… to fuck.” I bit at my lower lip as I let my gaze drop to his mouth again. His face flushed as he straightened and pushed his chest tighter to mine. The little and ring finger on my right hand slipped just beneath the waistband of his jeans, drawing along the elastic of his underwear. His pretty whimper turned me on quicker than I’d ever remembered. “A needy boy, even better,” I growled as I crushed my mouth to his and teased the seam of his lips until he opened for me.
Cass shyly met my tongue with the tip of his, and a tremor went through him. I grabbed one ass cheek and jerked him closer to the edge of the table. His thighs opened wide to accommodate the width of my body. My cock firmed and ached behind my zipper as he submitted to the dominance in my kiss. There was no fighting, just a beautiful act of trusting submission. He felt and tasted so good. I slowly rolled my hips forward to show him what he did to me.
I growled as he sucked at my tongue as I tried to retreat to calm us down. As much as I wanted him, I didn’t know if either of us were ready for more than some kissing and touching. I could almost hear how it was going to sound to hear him call me Daddy. We’d share a meal, watch a movie, and I’d show him how good I could make him feel. And when it was time, I’d strip him and watch his face change with pleasure as I sunk deep into him. Showing him that I’d never take him being mine for granted.
Chapter 6
Cass
I’d been scared of how I’d react if Wyatt initiated any physical intimacy between us tonight, but kissing him was easy. It was the first thing that had felt truly right since that horrible night so long ago. As much as I didn’t want it to end, I finally let his tongue go, and he pressed one last hard kiss to my mouth.
He smiled down at me gently, passion and affection simmering in his gaze. “I think I better feed you before I get carried away.”
Feeling the heat crawl up my neck and onto my cheeks, I ducked my face, mumbling, “I already was.”
Wyatt tipped my chin up. “What was that, baby? You don’t have to hide what you’re thinking or feeling from me. I want to know all of it.”
Taking a calming breath, I met his intense stare with every ounce of bravery inside of me. “If you hadn’t stopped this”—I motioned between us—“I probably wouldn’t have had the strength to. I was… Kissing you felt better than I expected. Better than I hoped it would feel if I got up the nerve to try again.”
Wyatt reached out and trailed a finger over the outline of my hard cock. “I know you were enjoying yourself, baby. I’m sure you could feel that I was, too, but I’m not sure you’re ready for more yet.”
He waited patiently as I gathered my scattered thoughts, which didn’t surprise me. I was quickly coming to see that Wyatt had the same traits and values that I’d observed in the other Daddies at the Outreach. He really did care what I had to say, and he’d give me the time and space I needed. A part of me wanted to hold back. He’d let me get away with it for now, but he’d circle back to it eventually. “Probably not, but I want to be brave.”
Wyatt’s lips quirked up at the side. “I think you’ve been very brave already, letting me touch and love on you a little when our date has barely started.”
Rolling my eyes, I tsked. “Well, it is our second date. Maybe I’ve been out of the game for a while, but breakfast was enough that a little kissing shouldn’t shock me or anything.” Wyatt’s answer was a booming laugh, which startled me, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?” I demanded.
“Sorry, baby, but seeing you roll your eyes at me confirmed my original suspicion. There’s a Brat in there”—he tapped two fingers to my chest—“just dying to get out.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll never know if I pass out from hunger, though,” I teased.
Wyatt leaned in and stole another kiss, one that I gave back quite willingly, before he held his hand out and helped me off the table. “Heaven forbid you go back to the Outreach and tell Boss that I let you starve. He’ll have my ass.”
As he held a chair out for me, I nodded in agreement. “Probably take your Daddy card.”
He swooped down and kissed my cheek, then strode toward the kitchen, tossing, “I knew you were going to be fun,” at me over his shoulder.
Chuckling, I settled back into my chair, wondering where that sass had come from. It wasn’t like me. Not even with Martin. And maybe that was part of it. I’d still been so serious, so scared of having to return to my family with my tail between my legs to their sneers and the I-told-you-so’s when I met my late husband. We’d both been on a professional track with big goals and dreams that revolved around having successful careers.
