Page 6 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)
“Yeah, well, I don’t,” I tell them, praying to John Wayne and Wyatt Earp themselves that no one takes note of the flush creeping up my neck.
“I just want to meet a nice woman. Someone my age. Someone here in Bluebell, who likes sports and understands my passion for them. Who wants a family.” Who wants me to be her dirty daddy, and who wants to willingly hand herself over to me as my sweet, filthy girl . “Pretty simple stuff.”
Dean places his hat on his head after dropping some wadded up bills on the bar. “Simple indeed.” He claps a hand on my shoulder after tipping his head in goodbye at the other two. “You’ll find her, man. There’s someone for everyone.”
He leaves, and I put in an hour and a half with my friends—I’ve earned my computer time.
After paying my tab, I say goodbye to Jake and Hudson, eager to leave and get back to DaddysGirl .
At home, I kick off my boots and change into sweats before snagging my laptop off the counter and dragging it into bed with me. I reach into my cotton pants, beneath the band of my boxer briefs, and grip my cock as my computer comes online.
When her name appears, glowing in green— my new favorite color —I give myself a single tug.
The other night, I floated the idea of meeting. It was risky, and she told me as much. And as much as I wanted her to jump at my offer and say, “yes, let’s meet! I was hoping you would say that!”, I also really fucking loved what she did say.
I think we’re headed in that direction—I think pretty soon, we won’t have a choice.
Our chemistry will literally tie us up and drag us together.
Truly. That’s where I think we’re headed, Suede.
But for now, I think it’s important we stick to anonymity and forge ahead.
See what we’ve got before we call reality into play.
You know? I like you, Suede. I like you a lot, but for now, I think we see what we’re made of before we try to meet.
I read it as many times as the app would allow before it disappeared.
Her response means that she must feel what I feel.
That, kink aside, she likes me enough to want to see where things go if we continue on the path we’re on.
And she’s right—adding real life to that would only complicate things.
If we continue our anonymous, all-consuming chatting, before we know who we are, what we do, and what we look like, we have the best chance of seeing what we’re made of without that noise.
She’s invested, and when she messages me first tonight, I stroke myself, my heart thrumming as I remind myself of that very thing— she’s invested in me .
DaddysGirl
How was your evening?
Suede0989
Not bad.
DaddysGirl
Do anything fun?
It’s wild the way she asks me if I did anything fun on the nights that I go out. She’s in tune with me on some wavelength, I really believe that.
I pull a blanket over my legs and turn the TV on for background noise.
Suede0989
Went out for a few beers with my friends.
It’s a weekly thing we do, blow off steam after the long work week, you know
DaddysGirl
It’s Tuesday
I can’t help but smirk.
Suede0989
We have tiring jobs
DaddysGirl
Fair enough
Suede0989
Can I admit something?
I think I’d actually melt into a puddle of total humiliation if any of my friends read this chat log. Thank god it self-destructs. If I die of a heart attack, it’s one less thing my ghost has to be embarrassed about.
I reread my question. Can I admit something? Why don’t I just send a video of myself writing in my diary then lighting candles next to locks of her hair? Jesus.
Still.
As cringey as I am, I mean every fucking word when it comes to this girl.
Woman?
I actually don’t know how old she is, but she’s on Veiled , so I’m going to guess woman .
DaddysGirl
I would love it if you did
See, even her reply has me a little harder, a lot needier, and even more eager to move things ahead.
Suede0989
I was grouchy with my friends tonight
Because I wanted to be at home, talking to you
DaddysGirl
You wanted to cancel your weekly hang out to talk to me?
Suede0989
I did
DaddysGirl
And why didn’t you?
Suede0989
Self control
Feels smart to hold onto it with both hands for as long as I can where you’re concerned
Her dots appear, and I let my eyes close as I reach into my pants again, stroking myself a few times. I’m so hard, all this dancing around our connection, talking about what we feel without actually naming it—it’s emotional edging and I need to come.
DaddysGirl
Why is that?
Do I make you lose control?
My pulse skips and my mouth goes dry. I pull my hand from my cock and type a reply.
Suede0989
Yes
Just then, my email pings, alerting me to a new message in my inbox. I click over, navigating away from Veiled as I wait for DaddysGirl to reply.
In my inbox I see a new message from one of the dating sites I never cancelled, one of the free ones called LoveScope .
Dear Mr. West Dupont,
Your profile has matched with another profile! Click the link below to see who has messaged you on LoveScope.
With love and potential,
The LoveScope Cupids
I hover over the link, staring at it in all of its unclicked, mysterious glory. Do I care if I matched with someone on a normal dating site? I scratch at the back of my head, still staring at my cursor on the link.
Let’s say she’s amazing. I’d still have to date and get to know her for some months before even mentioning what I want in the bedroom. And then if she says no? It’s all for nothing.
Here, even though I don’t know who DaddysGirl is, I have someone who knows what I like, knows what makes me tick, and wants the same thing.
But what if in person we aren’t compatible?
I lick my lips and ultimately click the link, watching with hopeful, baited breath as the screen loads the profile who has matched willingly with mine.
Mary Grace Eckhardt.
I say the name aloud. “Mary Grace.” Then, I scroll to her photo, forgoing her biography because it doesn’t matter if she literally likes every single thing that I like, if I’m not attracted to her, it’s meaningless.
She’s pretty. Freckles. Glasses. Brown hair. No makeup. Looks like she re-shelves books for a living.
This woman, Mary Grace, saw my photo and said yes.
My mouse hovers over the button reading “Accept Match,” but I can’t bring myself to click it. Instead, I close the email, feeling like I somehow betrayed DaddysGirl by even looking.
But we’re just getting to know each other still, and all I did was consider a date. There’s no crime against that.
Yet when I click back to Veiled , DaddysGirl is offline.
That night, I really don’t sleep a wink.