Page 6

I stepped into my apartment, the click of the lock echoing like a gunshot in the quiet. My heart pounded, a mix of thrill and anxiety coursing through me. The living room lights were dim, casting long, dancing shadows that matched the whirlwind in my mind. Every corner, every surface seemed to echo Demian's words, his presence, and the weight of the contract I'd signed.

I dropped my keys into the bowl by the door, the clatter jarring. My bag hit the kitchen counter with a thud, and I pulled out the NDA, the crisp paper crinkling under my touch. I spread it flat, my fingers tracing the bold signature at the bottom. His signature. A shiver ran down my spine, a blend of excitement and nerves.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I murmured, scanning the words again. Confidentiality. Non-disclosure. Terms I knew well from work, but this time, they sent a jolt through me. This wasn't just a story; this was his life, his trust.

I looked down, my gaze landing on the plush bear in my hands. Its beady eyes seemed to stare back reassuringly, and the soft fur was comforting against my chest. A swell of warmth spread through me.

"This is crazy, Tilly," I whispered to myself, hugging the bear tighter. The warmth turned into a knot of uncertainty. I was used to chasing stories, not becoming part of them. But Demian . . . there was something about him. And I loved the way he’d looked after me tonight. I even loved the way he’d insisted I go home to rest after this, to give me time to process everything. I loved it, but I was impatient for more.

I sank onto the couch, the bear still clutched to my chest. The room was silent, but my mind was a whirlwind. I could see Demian's face, hear his voice. "Baby girl," he'd called me. The words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of excitement and fear.

I tried to relax with a couple of cartoons but it was no use. I needed to try to sleep, to clear my head completely so I could wake up refreshed and ready for whatever tomorrow had in store.

“Come on, Bear,” I said. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

As I cleaned my teeth and put on my pajamas, I wondered what to call my new stuffie. It felt like a big decision, one I wanted to get right.

The bear's glassy eyes stared up at me as I tucked us both into bed, its fur soft against my cheek. My mind was a blender set to high, thoughts whirling and crashing into each other.

I tossed and turned, the cool cotton sheets twisting around my legs. Dreams came in fractured pieces—ice rinks filled with stuffed animals, contract clauses written in crayon, Demian's stern face melting into a smile. I jolted awake more than once, heart pounding, only to find the bear still clutched tightly in my arms.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, flipping my pillow to the cool side. But even as I said it, a warmth spread through me. There was something comforting about having the stuffie there, a tangible link to Demian and the strange new world he was introducing me to.

Eventually, to my great relief, morning light crept in through the blinds, casting stripes across my comforter. I stretched, feeling the tight muscles in my shoulders protest.

“Morning, Bear,” I said to my new companion.

I padded to the bathroom, the tiles cold under my feet. The shower helped wash away the remnants of the restless night, steam filling the room as I let the hot water run over my tense shoulders.

I toweled off, wrapping the soft cotton around me like a shield. Now, I needed to pick an outfit. Demian had asked for something "appropriate." But appropriate for what? For a day at the beach? Or hiking up a mountain? Or going to a fancy restaurant?

No, of course he didn’t mean any of that stuff. The way he looked at me as he said the word “appropriate.” I just knew, in my heart, that he wanted me to wear something Little.

Rummaging through my closet, I pushed past the professional blouses and tailored pants. There, tucked away in the back, was a pastel pink t-shirt with a cartoonish print of a little yellow kitten—something I'd bought on a whim and never worn in public. I held it up, the soft fabric feeling foreign in my hands. It was a statement. But wasn't that what this whole thing was about? Stepping out of my comfort zone?

I slipped it on, the material cool against my skin. It felt strange, almost daring, to wear something so openly playful. But there was a thrill too, a sense of freedom. I turned to look in the full-length mirror, my reflection staring back at me with wide eyes. I looked . . . different. Softer, maybe.

I put on some denim hotpants, too. Playful but sexy. And then I added a pair of white frilly socks. I definitely hadn’t worn these in front of anyone before. I’d only ever worn them to bed in the winter but they did look super cute with this outfit. I put my hair in pigtails too, completing the look.

"Okay, Tilly," I said to my reflection, taking a deep breath. "You can do this."

I grabbed a long camel-colored trenchcoat from the closet, something to conceal my choice from prying eyes. As I slid it on, I felt a flutter of nerves and excitement. I was really doing this. Stepping into the unknown, one pastel pink t-shirt at a time.

“Wish my luck, bear,” I said, giving him a kiss on his black plastic nose, surprised by how cold it felt against my warm lips. “Hey,” I said, giggling. “I just thought of a great name for you.”

T he gleaming black SUV idled at the curb like a panther ready to pounce. I stepped out of my apartment building, the brisk morning air nipping at my nose, heart pounding like a kick drum in my chest.

Demian spotted me immediately, his piercing gray eyes meeting mine through the windshield. I ducked into the passenger seat, the coat hiding my t-shirt as I fumbled with the seatbelt.

"Morning, Tilly," Demian said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "How'd you sleep?"

I managed a nervous grin, my fingers still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. "Not too bad, all things considered."

He chuckled softly, pulling the SUV into traffic. "All things considered?" he asked, glancing at me with an arched brow.

I nodded, looking down at my hands folded in my lap. "Yeah, you know. The contract, the bear, the . . . everything."

Demian reached over, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "It's a lot to take in," he agreed. "But you're doing great."

His touch sent a jolt of warmth up my arm, and I felt the tension in my chest ease a bit. We drove in silence for a few minutes, the cityscape blurring past the windows.

Demian cleared his throat, his hand still resting on mine. "So, did you think of a name for your bear?" he asked, a playful note in his voice.

My cheeks warmed instantly, and I nodded. "I did, actually," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "And?" he prompted.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Captain Frosty," I announced, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It makes me think about you on the ice. But also, he has this adorably cold little nose.”

Demian threw his head back and laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. "That's perfect," he said, grinning at me. "Absolutely perfect."

A spark of joy lit up in my chest at his approval, and I found myself grinning back at him like an idiot. There was something so freeing about this dynamic, about embracing this side of myself with someone who accepted it—accepted me—so completely.

Demian gave my hand another squeeze, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. The touch was innocent enough, but it sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins, setting my nerves alight. I squirmed slightly in my seat, the trenchcoat suddenly feeling a bit too hot.

"You okay?" Demian asked, glancing at me with concern.

I nodded quickly, my mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, just . . . kinda warm," I admitted.

He smiled knowingly, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before turning back to the road. "We'll be there soon," he promised.

Before long, the SUV rolled to a stop beside a large nondescript building, its brick facade weathered and worn. No sign, no flashy lights—just a heavy steel door and a faint hum of activity from within. I craned my neck, trying to get a better look out of the car window, but Demian's hand on my arm stopped me.

"This is it?" I asked, skepticism dripping from my voice.

Demian nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not what you expected, huh?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. I thought we were maybe going to the beach."

Demian smiled. “I’d love to go to the beach with you. We’ll do that soon. But I think you’ll enjoy this too.” He squeezed my arm gently, his voice low and reassuring. "It's a private space, Tilly. For people like us. Littles and their caregivers can be themselves here, safe from prying eyes."

My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of excitement and nervous energy pulsing through my veins. In my time as a journalist, I’d learned a lot of secrets. But I never knew about this. A whole world hidden within the city I thought I knew.

Demian got out of the car and came around to open my door. He held out his hand, and I took it, stepping onto the quiet sidewalk. The air was cool, but my palms were slick with sweat. I wiped them discreetly on my coat, trying to steady my breathing.

He led me to the door, where he knocked sharply, three times. A small panel slid open, and a pair of eyes appeared. They widened slightly at the sight of Demian, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway.

"Welcome back, Mr. Pierce," the doorman said, stepping aside to let us in.

Demian nodded, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back. "Thanks, Jake. It's good to be back."

We stepped inside, and the door closed behind us with a heavy thud. The sound echoed down the hallway, and I jumped slightly, my nerves on high alert. Demian's hand rubbed soothing circles on my back, his touch grounding me.

The hallway opened up into a large room, and my breath caught in my throat. Before us stretched a gleaming ice rink, smaller than regulation size, but beautifully maintained. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, their reflection dancing on the frozen surface. Around the rink, couples skated hand in hand, their laughter echoing through the air. Some wore bright sweaters or playful onesies, their cheeks flushed with joy and exertion.

A surge of delight washed over me, and I couldn't help but grin. It was like stepping into a snow globe, a tiny world of childlike wonder tucked away from adult responsibilities. My fingers itched to grab my notebook, to capture this hidden sanctuary in words. But this wasn't a story I could tell. This was a secret, a precious gem to keep tucked away in my heart.

Demian turned to me, his eyes soft. "What do you think?"

I nodded, my grin widening. "It's perfect."

He smiled back, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face. The touch was gentle, almost innocent, but it sent a spark of heat through me. I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When I opened them, Demian's gaze had darkened, his pupils dilating slightly.

He cleared his throat, his hand dropping to help me out of my coat. "Let's get you ready to skate."

I nodded, slipping off the coat to reveal the pastel t-shirt and hotpants underneath. Demian's eyes raked over me, his jaw tightening. He approves, I thought, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through me.

He led me to a bench by the rink, then handed me a large paper bag I hadn’t realized he’d brought in with him. “I love your outfit, baby girl,” he said. “It’s perfect. But I brought this for you to slip on top to keep you cozy while you skate.”

I opened up the paper bag to find a super cute onesie. It had little doggy ears and looked a lot like Bernie the St. Bernard, the mascot for the Colorado Avalanche. I squealed with delight. “I love it!”

I put it on, loving how soft the fabric was against my skin and how protected I felt with my arms and legs covered.

“Let’s find the right pair of skates for these little feet,” he said, taking a look at my feet and then grabbing a couple of different pairs of white skates with little hearts and rainbows on them.

Kneeling before me, he helped me step into the first pair, and I was amazed that they fit perfectly. His strong hands were gentle as he laced them up. His fingers brushed against my ankle, and I suppressed a gasp, the touch sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.

He looked up at me, his eyes holding a question. I nodded, my cheeks flushing pink. Yes, I wanted this. Yes, I was ready.

Demian smiled, rising to his feet. He held out his hand, and I took it, stepping onto the ice. The cold seeped through my skates, grounding me, anchoring me to this moment. This was real. This was happening. And I couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

The ice stretched out before me, a glistening expanse of cold, hard reality. I took my first cautious step, the blade of my skate digging into the surface. A wobble, a slight slip, and then Demian's firm grip steadied me. His hand was warm, secure, a lifeline in this foreign territory.

"Easy there, baby girl," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "I've got you."

I looked up at him, my heart pounding. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made me feel both exposed and cherished. He believed in me, and that made all the difference. I took another step, and another, Demian's hand never leaving mine.

The air was cool, crisp, filled with the sound of blades cutting into ice and the distant hum of conversation. The fairy lights above us twinkled, casting a soft glow that made everything feel just a touch magical. I pushed off, gliding a few feet before wobbling again.

Demian chuckled, a warm sound that wrapped around me like an embrace. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice steady and sure. "You're doing great."

I beamed at him, my cheeks flushing with pride. It was silly, really—I was just skating, something kids did every day. But here, with Demian, it felt like more. It felt like I was learning to let go.

He skated backwards, his movements fluid and confident. He held out his hands, beckoning me toward him. I hesitated, then pushed off, gliding towards him. My steps were tentative, but his smile grew wider with each one. I reached him, my hands landing in his, and he pulled me close, steadying me.

"See?" he said, his voice soft. "You're a natural."

I laughed, a carefree sound that echoed through the rink. I felt light, unburdened. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in . . . God, I couldn't remember the last time. Demian's hands squeezed mine, and I knew he felt it too—this connection, this ease.

We skated like that for a while, Demian guiding me, encouraging me, praising every small triumph. I felt myself leaning into him, relying on him. And it felt good. It felt right.

Eventually, we stepped off the ice, my legs wobbly and my heart full. Demian led me to a tucked-away stand, the scent of greasy burgers and salty fries filling the air. The decor was whimsical, all cartoonish hockey mascots and bright pastel walls. It should have been tacky, but instead, it felt safe, comforting.

Demian ordered for us, and we settled into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking beneath us. I looked around, marveling at the details—the miniature hockey sticks hanging on the walls, the goalie masks with exaggerated features, the penalty box decorated with stuffed animals. It was a world away from the stark reality of my usual life, and I found myself relaxing, letting the warmth and comfort wash over me.

“I can’t believe somewhere like this exists,” I said.

Demian grinned. “I helped set it up, actually. I always enjoyed the club I went to, but I figured that Daddies and Littles didn’t always want to be in that kind of environment. You know, getting hot and heavy late and night. Sometimes, they just want somewhere to go and have some innocent fun.” He paused. “It’s not easy for people like us to be ourselves in public.”

I loved hearing that. People like us. As if me and Demian Pierce had anything in common!

“Everybody here has been personally checked by me or my employees and can be trusted. Nobody here cares about anything but having a good time.”

“It’s must be hard for you,” I remarked. “Being a celebrity. Being watched all the time. Being chased down by . . . people like me.”

Demian squeezed my hand. “You’re not one of them,” he told me. “You’re one of us.”

Another warm, fuzzy feeling ran through me.

"You did great out there, by the way" Demian said, sliding a plate toward me. The burger was massive, dripping with cheese and topped with crispy bacon. My stomach rumbled in appreciation.

"Thanks," I said, taking a bite. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I couldn't help but moan in appreciation. Demian's eyes darkened, and I felt a thrill of satisfaction. I liked affecting him like this, liked knowing that I could make his control slip, even if just for a moment.

We ate in comfortable silence, the sounds of the rink washing over us. As I finished my burger, Demian nodded toward an area behind the rink. “You seen the soft play yet, Tilly?”

My eyes lit up as I took in the slides, the ball pit, the padded floors. It looked like a haven for Littles, a place where they could let go and just be.

"Want to check it out?" Demian asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. But there was something else there too—a warmth, an understanding. He got it. He got me.

I nodded eagerly, my heart drumming with anticipation.

Demian held my hand as we walked over to the soft play area. We kicked off our shoes, Demian's strong hands steadying me as I swayed slightly, already eager to dive into the ball pit. The scent of plastic and faint remnants of sanitizer filled the air, a strangely comforting mix that promised fun and safety.

“One sec,” said Demian, holding me back. “Take off your onesie first, or you’ll get too hot, sweetheart. Plus, I want to see that super cute outfit you’re wearing underneath.”

I grinned, loving how Demian was taking care of me like this. I unzipped the onesie, not feeling in the least embarrassed about what I was wearing now. In fact, I felt proud, and I loved how approvingly Demian looked at me.

I slid into the ball pit, sinking into a sea of colorful spheres, the cool plastic orbs shifting beneath me, supporting me in their chaotic embrace.

Demian slid in beside me, his larger frame causing a minor avalanche of balls to cascade over us.

Laughter bubbled up from deep within me, a sound so pure and carefree it surprised even myself.

Demian's eyes crinkled at the corners, his normally reserved expression replaced with genuine amusement. He bopped me on the head playfully with a red ball.

"That’s against the rules!" I accused, scooping up a handful of balls and tossing them at him in playful retaliation.

He deflected them with ease, his reflexes as sharp as ever. "And what exactly are the rules here, Tilly?" he teased, lobbing a few balls back at me gently.

I stuck out my tongue, a childish gesture that felt incredibly liberating. "No using your hockey skills to outmaneuver me," I shot back, trying to maintain a stern expression but failing miserably.

Suddenly, our eyes met, and a palpable hush fell over us. The air between us shifted, charged with an electric current that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. Demian's gaze softened, his eyes dropping to my lips before flicking back up to meet mine.

He leaned in, his hand cupping my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart stutter. His thumb brushed softly against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Time seemed to slow as he moved closer, his breath mingling with mine. And then, his lips captured mine in a gentle, lingering kiss.

My pulse roared in my ears, a thunderous beat that drowned out all other sounds. Warmth flooded my body, a heat that started at my core and radiated outwards, leaving me feeling flushed and dizzy. I returned the kiss, my hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The plastic balls shifted around us, their cool hardness a stark contrast to the warmth of Demian's body pressed against mine.

When we finally broke apart, I felt breathless—from the kiss, from the sheer novelty of this new dynamic, from the raw intensity of emotions coursing through me. Demian brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin, his touch grounding me in the moment.

"You're amazing, Tilly," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Your trust, your willingness to explore . . . it means more to me than you can imagine."

I smiled, feeling an effervescent rush of acceptance and possibility. This was uncharted territory, a blend of vulnerability and exhilaration that left me craving more. With Demian by my side, I felt safe, seen, and cherished in a way I never had before. And in that moment, surrounded by a sea of colorful balls, I knew I was exactly where I belonged.

We emerged from the ball pit, the soft mat squeaking under our feet, plastic balls clinging to our clothes. Demian reached out, brushing a stray ball off my shoulder, his fingers grazing my neck. I shivered at his touch, a spark igniting beneath my skin.

"You look adorable in that outfit, Tilly," he said, his voice low and warm, like a gentle rumble of thunder. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, my heart still pounding from our kiss.

He took a step closer, his hand cupping my elbow. “You want to play some more, sweetheart? Maybe on the slide?”

I swallowed. Was there any way I could tell him that all I wanted to do right now was kiss some more? I shook my head, lost for words.

"I don't want this day to end just yet," he said, his gray eyes searching mine. "I want to spend more time with you, but not here. Come back to my place?"

My breath hitched, my mind racing. I knew what he was asking, what he wanted. More intimacy, more exploration. A chance to dive deeper into this dynamic we'd started. My heart hammered against my ribs, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. I could feel the heat of his body, could see the rise and fall of his chest. He was waiting, giving me space to decide.

I looked up at him, his chiseled jawline, his expressive eyes, the slight parting of his lips. I wanted more. More of his touch, more of his warmth, more of this feeling of belonging. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, a warmth spread through me.

"Yes, Daddy," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, please."

His face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He took my hand, his large fingers wrapping around mine, making me feel small, protected. We walked towards the exit, our shoulders brushing, our hands swinging gently between us. Each step sent a thrill through me, a mix of anticipation and excitement. I was stepping into the unknown, but with Demian by my side, I felt safe, ready to explore.