Page 2 of Sophia’s Daddy (Littleworld #23)

Chapter Two

I take a deep breath as I follow Layla into the living room. Her Daddy, Theo, is incredibly wealthy. His home is huge and extravagant. I’ve never lived anywhere this nice. Layla has told me he’s a commercial real estate agent. I guess they make good money.

Tate has already arrived, and both men stand from where they’re sitting on the giant sectional as we enter.

Layla runs toward Theo and jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as if she hasn’t seen him for months instead of the fifteen minutes it’s been since he last checked on us upstairs.

I shuffle into the room slower, rubbing my hands together, feeling more self-conscious than I ever have in my life. Maybe this was a mistake. I’m out of my element.

Tate—looking as handsome as he always does—gives me his award-winning smile and comes toward me. I wonder if he will hold out a hand to shake mine or what we might do as a greeting. Shaking his hand feels weird. It’s not like I’ve never met him.

His smile grows as he approaches. “Sophia, you look so pretty in that dress.” Instead of taking my hand, he cups my cheek and strokes my chin with his thumb.

My heart is racing, and my breath hitches as I tip my head back to look up at him.

I’m five-four. He’s a foot taller than me.

His height and stature are part of what attracts me to him.

That and his thick brown hair and green eyes.

The dimples on his cheeks when he smiles.

His broad shoulders and muscles that make it look like he could easily lift me right off the floor and hold me the way Theo is holding Layla—effortlessly with a hand under her bottom.

But what I love most about Tate is the stern expression evident in the lines on his forehead even when he’s smiling. He has that expression now, and it makes me shiver.

Sometimes at the Dungeon, I enjoy watching him from across the room and pretend he’s the most powerful, firm Daddy in the world. It’s all made up in my head, of course. I have no idea if he’s as stern as he looks or not. I’m also not sure I would enjoy the level of dominance he exudes in real life.

My experience with domination is pretty limited, considering I’m a member of a kink club and visit it frequently.

I’ve seen every kind of kink. I’ve watched Doms and subs throughout the club and witnessed many forms of bondage and impact play.

I’ve seen fire play and knife play. I’ve held my breath as I glued my eyes to suspension play and other extreme rope play.

I’m mostly a voyeur. The only thing I’ve personally explored is spanking. It’s always more-or-less arranged. Layla, Amelia, and I had become experts at pretending to argue or fight in order to get the attention of surrounding Doms so they would discipline us.

That was before Amelia and her Daddy, Noah, got together and moved to the island. Soon afterward, Layla met Theo and moved in with him. They haven’t come to the Dungeon together since Layla started living with Theo.

That has often left me alone at the club with no one to perform with in order to draw attention to myself. I’ve learned I’m not very good at asking someone to spank me, so it’s been a while since I’ve had the experience. I’m actually itching to have someone’s palm on my butt.

The best spanker of all is the man currently cupping my cheek and smiling down at me. There’s no way I could possibly ask him to swat my bottom tonight. Not in Theo and Layla’s home. That would be weird. The thought makes me clench my butt cheeks, though.

Tate lifts his hand from my face to stroke one of my pigtails. “Did you switch to a different shade of blue, Little one? This looks darker than last time I saw you.”

My breath hitches. I’m stunned. I can’t believe he would notice something like that. I nod. “Yes, Sir.” I swallow after I mutter those words. Should I call him Sir? We aren’t at the club. It’s very confusing. The lines are blurred. I wonder how Layla does this.

“I like it. And it’s an exact match with the polka dots on your dress tonight.”

“Thank you.”

Theo clears his throat a few yards from us.

“Layla and I are going to go put the finishing touches on dinner. Why don’t you two have a seat?

We’ll be back soon.” Layla is still wrapped all around him like a monkey, and I find myself envious of their relationship.

I’ve never dreamed of having that sort of connection with someone.

For me, being Little is a tiny part of me I indulge a few hours a week.

It makes me feel free to set my adult aside and relax to color, play with toys, do puzzles, and create imaginary mischief.

I read books about Daddies and Littles, but it’s never seemed like something I could actually live in real life.

The idea of being in a relationship with a Daddy Dom or living partly Little outside of the club as a lifestyle only recently started to infiltrate my brain since both Amelia and Layla have entered into serious full-time Dom/sub relationships.

I’ve started visualizing what it would be like late at night when I’m lying in bed tossing and turning. I didn’t use to have trouble sleeping, but ever since Layla asked me if I wanted to hook up with Tate, I’ve been nervous and restless. My visualizations have gotten more and more graphic.

I watch as Theo turns to carry Layla from the room. Her short dress is lifted up enough for me to see what she’s wearing underneath, and I bite my lip when I realize she’s neither diapered nor wearing ordinary panties. She has on training panties.

Layla has told me she spends a lot of time in a younger headspace now that she lives with Theo. Diapers wouldn’t surprise me, but I wasn’t expecting thick cotton training panties for some reason.

I’m also aware that the two of them have left the room intentionally to give Tate and me time alone. I doubt Layla lifts a single finger in the kitchen. She has told me Theo does nearly everything for her.

Tate takes my hand, drawing my attention back to him as he guides me to the sectional and nods toward the spot where he intends for me to sit.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as I carefully follow his unspoken command.

It’s subtle. He didn’t say a word, but he made it clear where he wanted my butt planted.

It’s also a bit of a struggle since it’s difficult for me to get my dress tucked under my bottom.

I finally give up, aware that my blue panties are the only thing between me and the cushions.

Maybe this dress is a bit too short. Too late to worry about that now.

I’m fidgeting my fingers together, and Tate sets his enormous hand over both of mine. “Deep breath, Sophia. We’re just having dinner with friends. I can feel your nervousness.”

I swallow and try to hold still, straightening my spine. “I’ve, uh, never been Little outside of the club,” I admit.

“Ah.” He squeezes my hands and holds them against my bare thigh. “Think of Theo’s house as an extension of the club for tonight. We’re all four members. We just aren’t physically in the Dungeon tonight.”

“I’m trying. It’s weird. Do I call you Sir?”

“You may call me Sir or Tate or even Daddy if you’d like. Whatever feels right.” Tate adjusts my hands so he’s still gripping the one closest to him. His knuckles rest against my inner thigh, making it difficult not to squirm.

I stare at him, but no words come out. The only thing I’m currently aware of is his touch as he begins to stroke my thigh with his knuckles. Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?

I’ve never mixed sex with my Little before.

When I’ve scened with a Dom or even a Daddy Dom, the only thing I’ve negotiated was a spanking.

I don’t know any of the Doms who have spanked me well enough to let them touch me intimately.

Sometimes the Dom has asked me if I wanted to come as part of the scene, but I’ve always declined.

It seems weird to let a basic stranger touch my pussy, especially in front of a crowd.

At home, in my imagination, late at night, I can picture my Little in sexual situations.

I’ve read hundreds of romance novels. I have fantasies about being spanked and then fucked hard.

I’ve visualized having a Daddy restrain me and touch my pussy, edging me for punishment.

It’s not something I would ever expect to experience in real life.

But Layla does. Amelia does, too. Is that something Tate wants? I shudder at the idea. Am I ready for something like that? The idea makes me feel very vulnerable. I’m not sure I can give that part of me to another person.

I’m worried because Tate doesn’t know me at all. Not really. He might think he does, but he’d be wrong. Hell, Layla and Amelia don’t know me well either. We’re friends. We exchange texts and phone calls to meet up at the Dungeon, but we’ve never shared deeply personal information.

I know I’ve presented myself as a bit of a fierce, naughty girl at the club. Between the three of us, I was often the one who cocked my hip out and instigated the planned drama we caused. I would pretend to bully the other girls sometimes, causing us all to end up with our butts in the air.

In real life, I’ve never bullied a soul.

I’m not nearly as cocky or confident as the persona I put on when I’m at the club.

And she’s not here tonight either because she lives at the club.

I can put on a pretty dress and frilly socks and put my hair in high pigtails, but it’s apparent the persona I assume at the Dungeon is not the same one sitting next to Tate, and that’s freaking me out. I don’t know who this Sophia is.

“I don’t know what feels right, Sir,” I tell him.

“That’s okay, too. Don’t fret. How about we get to know each other better? I’ll ask you a question and then you can ask me one, back and forth. How’s that?”

I nod. “Okay.” As long as it’s not too personal. I’m not sure how much I’m willing to reveal about myself.

“I’ll start easy. Favorite color?”

I giggle. “Blue.”

“Really?” His brows shoot up as though he’s shocked, but he’s grinning, and I love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

He’s older than me. I don’t care how old he is.

I’ve always been attracted to older men.

They seem more confident than guys my age.

So, I go for that question. “How old are you?”

“Forty. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” I murmur.

“Does my age bother you, Little one?”

I shake my head, sending my blue pigtails flying. “No. Does mine bother you?”

“Not at all. Age is just a number. I might be concerned if you were significantly younger than that, but I figured you were in your mid-twenties. Old enough to know your mind.”

“I definitely don’t know my mind,” I blurt out in response.

He cocks his head to one side. “You don’t think so?”

I shake my head again, equally fast, whacking myself in the face with the ends of my pigtails.

“I have no idea who I am right this minute,” I admit.

Something about Tate makes me feel like I can open up a bit and be honest. It’s the way he has every bit of his attention on me as if he really cares about my feelings, interests, and thoughts.

I feel special. He never glances away. He’s oblivious to anything else in the room.

As if he knows this, he lifts my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles.

When he lowers our combined hands, he threads his fingers with mine.

Instead of returning them to the spot against my thigh, he turns his entire body to face me more directly, bringing a knee up and bending it on the couch.

He rests our hands against his own inner thigh.

For a moment, I miss his touch against my bare skin. It’s irrational. Why would I crave that sort of contact with him? It’s too soon.

I want him to know I’m interested even though I might not be able to say the right things yet, so I turn also, more fully facing him, also bending a knee so our shins are lined up.

I instantly feel nervous about this decision. My dress is covering my panties, but I’m much more vulnerable in this position.

Tate reaches his other hand over and sets it on my inner thigh where his knuckles had been stroking me. This is far more direct. His fingers are between my legs, precariously close to my open pussy. Inches now separate my soaked panties from his fingertips.

Tate gives me a slow knowing smile. “I bet you’ll know who you are in no time. You just haven’t let yourself see the real you before. Do you spend much time in Little space outside of the club?”

“No, Sir. Never.”

His brows shoot up again. I’ve surprised him. “Never?”

I shake my head.

“Have you ever had a Daddy before?”

“No, Sir,” I whisper.

He leans closer. “I’m honored you’re willing to share this with me tonight then.

” While he holds my gaze, his fingers gently stroke my inner thigh.

He has magic powers, and I suspect he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to me.

I’m seconds from panting, and I definitely don’t know this sexual Little Sophia.