Page 106 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

I almost ask him whether he’s sure hehasfeelings, but the guy seems like he’s trying to open up. Rustily. But he’s making an effort.

“You can’t make fun of them. Or scare them. Lo explained to me how the whole world is unsafe for littles. You have to respect their safe places, and you have to make your relationship one of them.”

“A safe place?” His eyes lift to mine, take in my expression, and drop back to his plate. “I can do that.”

“You can create a safe place?”

“I’m creatin’ one for you, ain’t I? Look, Max, I haven’t had a second date in a decade. Women are scared of me, just like you are?—”

“I’m not scared of you,” I object.

He holds up his fork. “Just listen. I’ve seen Logan with his girl. I’ve listened to hours of you talking to yours.” He ignores the growl that rattles my chest. “At first, I thought you were just whipped. But it’s not the same. What you’re creating with these girls, it’s special. It’s ... I don’t know what to call it. I don’t think there are good words for some of what you’re doing.”

“There aren’t,” I agree. “Sometimes it’s really hard to put this stuff into words.”

“The, uh,playaspect of it. That appeals to me.”

I glance around to make sure I’m not about to scandalize the cheerful Miz Skirmish. “The play element like Twister or the play element like spanking?”

He keeps his head down over his food, but the back of his neck reddens. “Both.”

“You can’t actually, physically hurt them.”

He shakes his head. “I know you think I’m a monster, and I’ll admit I’ve done some fucked up things. But it was in the service of my fucking country. I don’t have to justify myself to you, Max, so I’m not sure why I’m trying, but I wouldn’t ever injure a girl I was dating.”

“You have to justify yourself to me because I’m the gatekeeper into this world for right now. And even if I give you the nod, you’ll have to justify yourself to Logan, who will gatekeep your ass twice as hard. There are lots of different kind of injury. It took me a while to understand that. Be sure you know the difference before you even think about dipping a toe in this pool.” Which reminds me that my own little is probably feeling somewhat neglected. “Speaking of which, my girl could probably use a call. Gimme a half-hour alone in the room, okay?”

De Leon shakes his head. “I need to clear the room first. Give me five.”

He abandons his pie mid-bite, rises, and disappears off toward the entryway. Give him this, he’s a pro at what he does.

While I wait, I message my bumble.

Hey, baby. I’m about to get a little alone time. Are you free?

Bumble: YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES

I grin at my phone as warmth swells my chest. Is there anything as good as my little’s enthusiasm?

Are you alone? Can we video?

Bumble: I’ll go to my room now. Let me just tell Baachan.

I’ll call you as soon as I’m alone.

While I wait for De Leon to return, I flip over to our app and check the rewards she’s earned. She’s having a great day so far, even though it’s still morning for her. She’s already gotten twenty points for exercising, ten points for getting eight hours of sleep, five points for eating a balanced breakfast, and four points for drinking her water. She’s gotten three “good girl” chibis and is about to get a full growl chibi when she earns one more point. She’s sent me a sleepy chibi when she woke up, the adorable “Flashdance Cynnie” chibi with its leg warmers and ponytails after she exercised, and happy chibis every few hours. She hasn’t gotten any penalties today. She deserves some serious Oppa-time.

Although we talk two or three times a day and text back and forth constantly, I still feel slightly out of touch with her. Phone sex is hard with De Leon lurking all the damn time, but we’ve managed it twice. I’m not worried about her, not exactly, it’s just that she hasn’t had much opportunity to be little. Not like the sustained little-time she has when she stays with me. To say nothing about our “big” night to unload her worries. While the app gives a little of that back to her, I’m getting desperate for more “face” time with my bumble.

I open the app on my phone and start working on a bonus reward level. I’m deep in it when De Leon says, from over my shoulder, “What the fuck is that?”

I tip my head from side to side until my neck cracks, to keep from throwing an elbow or a fist at him. Sneaking up on me is less of an issue than it was a few years ago, but he’s still tempting fate. And I didn’t sit with my back to the door—I never do—so he had to circle around to come up behind me. Which definitely earns him an elbow in the face the next time.

“It’s an app for my girl.” I never use Cynnie’s name around De Leon, even though I know he knows it. I don’t want him thinking about her. “Encourages her to take care of herself when I’m not around. Rewards her for doing things like eating regularly.”

I tuck my phone away and rise. De Leon watches me, his brow furrowed, and I’m not sure what’s puzzling him—the app or that I’d need to create something to encourage my girlfriend to eat three squares a day—but what I am absolutely sure of is that I’m sick of his questions.

“Half-hour,” I remind him. “Maybe forty minutes.”