Page 111 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Taking a stab at what she was trying to say, Clay sighed happily.

“It’s strange, at first. Same as anytime you move house or state.

Things are different, nothing’s where it’s s’posed to be, and all the faces are new.

But after a few days, it feels like home on a deeper level, right down where it counts.

You learn the layout of the cabins, put your stuff where it makes most sense, and those new faces become familiar real fast. Lots of friendly people here, sweetling.

” He shot her a pointed stare, adding a smile.

“Lots of people with the same kinks and interests.”

Her lip trembled, but she firmed it quickly. “More people like me?”

He chuckled. “We’ve got Littles coming out of the woodwork, Avery. If coming here is what you really want, you’ll fit in just fine.”

She inhaled shakily. “Is it safe?”

Clay’s phone pinged with a text; it was probably Evander checking to make sure he hadn’t got lost in the damn forest, as if that would ever happen.

Ignoring it for the moment, he watched a bulldozer at the far side of the club shove a small mountain of earth out of the way.

“You ain’t got nothing to worry about, Avery.

The security team here is solid, and there isn’t a Dom on the property who wouldn’t step in if something went awry. ”

She nodded, but her nerves were obviously starting to affect her.

“Any more questions, comments, concerns before I take you down to meet Evander?”

“This is a big step,” she said to herself. “How do I know it’s the right one?”

“No one knows that but you, sweetling. Is what you’ve got now—friends, family, job—making you happy where it counts? Is it worth leaving behind for a little while to see if you can be happier, more fulfilled on a different level?”

Those eyes studied his face. “Is that how you made the choice?”

“Pretty much. My old life was gone; it was done the minute I tangled with that cow. The friends I had at the ranch will always be my friends, but there’s no time for socializing outside the life.

My family’s never approved of my choices, so we don’t stay in touch much.

” Running a hand over his hair, he shrugged.

“I still got my roping skills and I do love tying up ornery critters. Been a Dom most of my adult life, even when there was no time to play. It’s ingrained, so it’s always in me.

Figured why not do something else I love, something I’m good at, and enjoy the views while I’m at it? ”

Avery thought about that, chewing on her full bottom lip absently.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “I hate my apartment. I’ve lived there for almost six years and loved it, but Adam tainted it and everything in it.

I hate being in the city, knowing I could run into him on the street.

My mom died when I was ten, my dad when I was eighteen.

My only friend is my boss, and I love her, I love my job, but… ”

Clay waited patiently.

“I’m alone. So alone.” Wearily, she rubbed her hands over her face. “Maybe that’s why I asked Adam to move in with me, so I wouldn’t be alone all the damn time. It sure as hell wasn’t because I loved him, but I thought… I hoped…”

“I get it, Avery. It’s okay.”

Suddenly, she sat straighter, squaring her shoulders. Inhaling deeply, she clenched her jaw and then relaxed. “I’m in a box, trapped in it. How do I break out?”

It was always an experience to be present when a submissive made a conscious decision about their immediate future, he thought.

Whether it was in a scene or affected their everyday life, watching the internal struggle and then that moment of clarification was a gratifying, sometimes emotional experience.

He gestured to the buildings spreading out in front of them. “There’s a whole new world waiting for you down there if you’re brave enough to explore it.”

Nodding slowly, she surveyed the club.

Distant sounds from the construction site drifted toward them.

Fallen trees were being loaded onto a lumber truck—Clay had subtly questioned Evander about how many were being removed in order for the new cabins to be built.

A lot, was the answer, but twice the amount were being planted on an area of barren land he owned further up the valley.

Clay might have only been part of Serenity for six weeks, but the current volume of foot traffic into the club—pre-construction—stunned him. For an exclusive, expensive resort, it surprised him just how many kinky fuckers came to stay and play.

There were a half dozen new Masters and three new Mistresses due to start arriving once the building work was finished, simply to keep up with the demand now that several of the original team were shacked up or married.

He considered himself fortunate to be on that team now.

“Okay,” Avery said firmly. “I’m ready now.”

Yes, very fortunate indeed.

Avery

Clay smelled good, like really good.

Leather and sin and sunshine.

She kept watching his hands as he drove the golf cart, admiring how easily they handled the wheel. Big, strong, tanned. No rings, just a watch strapped around his thick wrist. Apparently, they were approved for cattle wrangling—was that weird or sexy?

Sexy, she decided as he swung the cart to a stop outside the porch steps of a massive, newly renovated ranch house.

Insects hummed happily around the large planters of flowers running along the underneath of the porch. Small solar lights were embedded in each pot, and more lined the gravel pathways leading here, there, and everywhere.

All the buildings were the same, she noted, gawking a little. Built in the same rustic style as log cabins, unassuming and not at all striking, as though they were designed to slot right into the forest with no one the wiser.

This section of the resort was relatively quiet, although the sounds of noisy construction equipment echoed and drifted along with voices shouting orders and robust male laughter.

She was really doing this.

Clasping her hands together, she really wished she’d brought Venus or one of her other plush friends as moral support. While she managed her normal routine without the need for one—stuffies and bakeries did not mix well—certain situations called for ESA.

Emotional Stuffie Assistance.

“—with you?” Clay asked.

Catching only the tail end of what he said, Avery frowned at him. “Sorry?”

“I said, did you bring a stuffie with you?”

Whoa, that was kind of creepy, given her train of thought. Making a production of patting herself down, she sassed, “Damn, and here I thought I’d stashed one in my bra.”

Clay’s eyes flickered but refrained from dropping to her breasts—points for him.

Raising his eyebrow at her, his eyes darkened just a fraction.

“Why did I not guess you’d be a brat? From everything you’ve told me, if you’re not a Little, you at least have Little tendencies, Avery.

Carrying a stuffie around is standard practice. ”

“I don’t know what I am, but I do know hauling a stuffed animal around the city…” She trailed off, unwilling to tell him how much her confidence had been knocked by her experiences. “They’re safer at home.”

The look he gave her warned he wasn’t a man who took non-answers lightly. But he just nodded, then slid out of the cart and rounded the front, stopping by her side. Holding out his hand, he said simply, “Come with me.”

“But I… the interview…”

“Starts in five minutes. I’ll have you there in three.”

His tone brooked no argument; she didn’t have one to give. Instead, she slipped her small hand into his much bigger one and let him guide her out onto the gravel path. It crunched under her heels as she followed him to the steps, then up to the glass doors.

Evidently, he was a gentleman, as he opened it for her, escorting her through into a hallway. To her left were doors leading to a restaurant; on her right, a bar area.

A reception desk, unmanned, was just ahead of her on the left, with a staircase just beyond it. On the right were several wooden doors.

It smelled clean, like lemons and vanilla, and everything was spotless. Varnished wood gleamed, and there wasn’t a speck of dust… anywhere that she could see. There was an interesting series of framed photographs on the walls, professionally taken and incredibly explicit.

“Wait here a second.” Releasing her, Clay walked behind the desk and ducked down, muttering under his breath.

He resurfaced a few moments later, holding out a tartan reindeer.

“It’s one of Sierra’s rehabbed creations.

She gave it to Rebecca, the receptionist, a few weeks ago but Becca isn’t a stuffie kinda girl.

She mentioned trying to find it a new home.

” He pressed it into Avery’s hands. “Now it has one.”

It wasn’t much, a simple toy, but the gift was… After months of Adam’s disapproval and disdain, Clay’s easy acceptance was something to be treasured.

The reindeer was six or seven inches tall, the blue-and-green-tartan body firmly stuffed. Dark, round button eyes looked up at her. The protruding bump of a muzzle was handstitched with a black nose. Soft faux leather, dark brown, made the antlers.

Tears stinging her eyes, Avery swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to Clay’s. He was several inches taller than her, maybe six foot two, but the difference in height wasn’t intimidating. “This is… very kind of you.”

Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. “My pleasure, sweetling.”

Was it the way he drawled pleasure in that utterly country accent or the pet name that did funny things to her insides?

It shouldn’t be a surprise—she already knew his touch affected her.

But his voice… his voice stroked over his skin, sliding through her, into her until her body quivered with arousal.