Page 60 of Dear Daddy, Please Hold Us

“Jordan. Unless you’re safe wording, I’mtellingyou to sleep over.”

Oh… shit. My knees went weak, so thank fuck he had me up against the counter, because I suddenly felt stupidly giddy inside, and that plus all the intensity as he watched my face, not even smiling, was making me feel totally off balance.

“Okay,” I said, nodding since he was obviously waiting for me to say something back. “Yeah. Uh, I can stay. And… safe wording is, uh, so we’re still doing that?”

“I hope we’re always doing that,” he said carefully, running his thumb along my jaw. “I’m your Daddy,” he said, his lips finally tilting up in the barest hint of a smile when I leaned my cheek into his palm, greedy for the way he always touched me and made me feel stupidly precious and whatnot. “And in case you missed it earlier,” he went on, just about making my heart stop, “I’m hoping that’s a permanent position. You’re it for me, Jordan Wendt, and I kind of think you always have been.”

My whole body froze, my throat suddenly so tight it actually hurt. I hadn’t missed it when he’d said that earlier. He’d said alotof shit earlier. Shit that had sounded… well, like a lot. Like a lot of what I’d always known to stay the fuck away from, to be more specific, but that I now wanted so bad I could taste it. But Andy had said all that while he’d been spanking me, which was intense. Then we’d fucked. Also intense. So I’d figured it would be dumb to assume that now, just washing dishes and hanging out and whatnot, he’d still feel that same level of intensity, right?

Or… maybe wrong.

Fuck, I wanted to be wrong.

“Jordan?” Andy prompted, his voice sounding strained. “Baby, talk to me.”

“Uh, permanent is pretty, you know, permanent,” I said, which made Andy drop his hand and his eyes go dim, because obviously I was on the verge of fucking this up when what I really wanted to do was ignore a whole lifetime of evidence about shit that seemed too good to be true actuallybeingtoo good to be true and believe that sometimes, or at leastthistime, shit that felt too good to be true—specifically, all the shit Andy had said in the heat of all those intense moments—actuallywastrue.

I wanted it to be true.

I wantedpermanent.

“I’m just saying,” I blurted when Andy’s eyes got tight at the corners and he looked like he was about to pull away, knowing I needed to salvage this before I really did fuck it up... but then realizing once I’d blurted it out that I, uh, didn’t actually knowwhatI was saying.

No, that wasn’t true. I knew what I wanted to say, I just didn’t know how to say it.

“Jordan,” Andy said after I’d paused too long, still looking pained in a way that made my chest hurt. “I’m sorry, petal. That was too much. I shouldn’t have said—”

“Wait,” I jumped in, my heart pounding. “Shit. I mean,sugar. Daddy, I…”

I swallowed, only realizing I’d grabbed onto his arms, was probably fuckingbruisinghim, when he suddenly smiled.

I dropped my hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck that instantly settled something inside me, just because he was touching me again. “Because you’re still calling me Daddy. And you can hold onto me as tightly as you need to, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to make sure I don’t scareyouinto going anywhere. Not before I can prove to you that we work.”

“You don’t have to prove it,” I said, my voice cracking a little. I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to, Daddy,” I repeated. “Because I’m not safe wording.”

Andy’s hand tightened on the back of my neck. “What?” he rasped, pinning me with that same high-intensity stare from earlier.

“I didn’t say milk,” I said, feeling a little bit stupid but also a whole lot desperate to make my point. “I didn’t say the safe word, so I didn’t want you to stop. I mean, if you... if this is... if you really want to do this, you know, permanently? Or even if you justthinkyou do, or think you might, or just want to try it, I’m not, uh, there’s no milk. From me, I mean. I’m in, too.”

Andy suddenly smiled, going from gripping my neck to stroking the back of it, tunneling his fingers up through my hair, dragging them over my scalp and finally pulling me in close and kissing me.

Kissing me like his answer wasyes.

“I don’t ‘think’ I do,” he finally said, smiling at me again. “IknowI do, petal. You and me, permanently. That’s what I want.”

Except… shit. That wasn’t just a smile. That was the fuckingsun.

“Okay,” I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt and suddenly too fucking pumped to bother trying to tame it. “I mean, yeah. No milk. Theoppositeof milk. Is there a go-word? Because I’m saying that one. I want to, uh, I want it to be permanent, too. If you really don’t think you’ll change your mind.”

“Sweetheart,” he said—no, he fuckinggrowled, making my dick pop up and my heart roll over in my chest as he suddenly crowded me back against the counter again. “That’s what permanentmeans.”

And he must have meant it, too, because after he fucked me again, face-to-face right there, with my ass on the kitchen counter and the dinner dishes stacked in the dish rack right next to us, he told me he was taking me home with him for Christmas.

To meet, like, hisfamily.

It sounded fucking terrifying… but Daddy was in charge, and I didn’t safe word on that one, either.