Page 10

Mandy

I woke with my face half-buried in my pillow, the events of last night crashing back into my brain. The tearful confession. The breaking point. The way Thor had held me as I fell apart.

My cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, but beneath that heat ran something else—a current of relief so profound it made my fingers tingle. For the first time in years, someone had seen me—really seen me—and hadn't turned away.

I reached for my phone, squinting at the bright screen. A message from Amy: "Doing better, sorry to worry you." My heart rate slowed. I'd been so wrapped up in my own emotional hurricane that I'd almost forgotten the initial trigger—Amy's health scare. I typed back quickly, "Love you. Call me later?" then set the phone down and stared at the ceiling.

Thank God she was feeling better.

The smell of coffee and something sweet drifted under the door. My stomach growled in response. Last night, after we’d confessed to each other, I’d awkwardly hid in the bedroom. But I couldn't hide in here forever, no matter how tempting the idea. I grabbed my jeans from yesterday, paired them with the t-shirt Thor had lent me to sleep in (which hung to mid-thigh on my frame), and braced myself.

"Morning," Thor's deep voice greeted me as I padded into the kitchen. He stood at the stove, his massive frame somehow making the spatula in his hand look like a toy. His hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and he wore faded jeans and a navy t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders.

"Morning," I replied, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. I hovered awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen. "Amy texted. She's doing better."

Thor's face softened. "Good. Was worried about her."

I nodded, fidgeting with the hem of the borrowed shirt. "Me too."

We fell into silence, the only sound the sizzle of batter hitting the griddle. Thor flipped a pancake with practiced ease. Neither of us seemed to know where to start.

"About last night—" we both began simultaneously.

Our eyes met, and a startled laugh escaped me. Thor's mouth curved into a smile that transformed his rugged face.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing with the spatula.

I shook my head. "No, you go. Please."

Thor turned back to the stove, sliding a golden pancake onto a waiting plate. "Sit," he said, nodding toward the table. "Food first, then we talk."

The table was already set with butter, syrup, and fresh berries. Coffee steamed from two mugs—mine already fixed with cream and sugar, exactly how I liked it.

Thor set a plate of pancakes in front of me, then took the seat across from mine. His bulk made the kitchen chair look absurdly small. He watched as I took my first bite.

"Good?" he asked.

I nodded, swallowing. "Really good. Even better than the stew last night."

“I’m glad.”

I set down my fork, appetite suddenly overshadowed by nervousness. "I'm sorry about dumping all that on you. About my . . ." I couldn't make myself say the word.

"Your Little side?" Thor supplied, his voice matter-of-fact but gentle. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you trusted me."

"It wasn't exactly planned," I admitted, staring into my coffee.

Thor nodded slowly. "I meant what I said last night. I'm not freaked out. Actually, I’ve been thinking and, uh, if you’d be interested, we could explore it together."

Together.

The word hung between us. I held my breath.

"I know what it means to be a Daddy Dom,” he continued. “It's about caring, protecting. Creating safe space."

"I've never had that," I whispered. "Not really. Just stolen moments on my own."

Thor's expression was serious. "Mandy, look. There’s something between us. You feel it. I feel it. We can’t ignore it.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest as he continued.

“I want to see where it takes it, if you want to. A DDlg dynamic. It would be about balance. You're strong, independent, fucking brilliant at what you do. But everyone needs a place to let go, to be taken care of sometimes."

I swallowed hard. "What would it look like? Between us, I mean." I somehow managed to get the words out without stuttering.

"Whatever we decide together," Thor said firmly. "There's no one-size-fits-all. But the core is trust. You trust me to hold your boundaries, to care for you when you need it. I'd help you feel safe enough to express that side of yourself."

"And when I'm not in that headspace?" I asked, needing to understand.

"Then you're the same badass accountant who keeps the Kings' books straight and takes no shit." A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You don't have to choose between being a successful professional and having your Little space. The right relationship makes room for all of you."

Something warm unfurled in my chest at his words. Thor understood what I needed without me having to explain it—acceptance without dimming any part of myself.

"I've spent so long keeping these parts of me separate," I admitted. "Work-Mandy and the other me. Never the two shall meet."

Thor shook his head. "That has to be exhausting. Trust me, I know something about wearing different faces." His expression darkened briefly, hinting at the complexities of his own life. "But with the right person, you don't have to compartmentalize so hard."

"The right person," I repeated softly.

Thor leaned closer, his large frame shifting forward until I could see the lighter flecks of blue in his eyes, feel the warmth of his breath on my face. "I think we could be right for each other, Mandy. In ways neither of us expected."

My gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. The space between us seemed charged with electricity, crackling with possibility. My body swayed forward instinctively.

Thor paused, his face so close to mine I could count each golden stubble on his jaw. Then, deliberately, he pulled back. The loss of his nearness felt physical.

"We should talk more before . . ." He cleared his throat. "I respect you too much to rush this."

I nodded, even as disappointment flooded through me. "You're right."

Thor reached across the table and took my hand in his much larger one. His thumb traced small circles on my skin, sending shivers up my arm.

"We have time," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me. "I'm not going anywhere."

We migrated to Thor's living room, me curled into the corner of a worn leather couch that had seen better days but offered unexpected comfort. I tucked my feet beneath me, cradling my refilled coffee mug between my hands like a shield. Thor sat at the opposite end, giving me space but watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness. The morning light filtered through partially drawn blinds, casting stripes across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the surprising softness in his eyes.

"So," I began, needing to break the silence, "you've done this before, you said? The Daddy Dom thing?"

Thor nodded, taking a sip of his black coffee. "Not exactly the same. Every dynamic is different. But yeah, I've been in caregiver roles before."

I considered this, trying to reconcile the man before me—who'd beaten men half to death according to club rumors—with someone who understood the delicate balance of power and care required in a DDLG relationship.

"Tell me what it means to you," I said. "Being a . . . Daddy." The word felt strange on my tongue when applied to a real person instead of my private fantasies.

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His expression grew thoughtful.

"To me, it's about structure, protection, and care," he said carefully. "Not control. There's a big difference. I'm not looking to run your life or tell you what to do. Your independence matters to me."

"Then what would change?" I asked. "Between us, I mean."

"It would be about creating space where you can safely let go of control when you need to," Thor explained. "Where you don't have to be 'on' all the time. Where you can just be, without judgment."

His words struck a chord so deep within me that I had to look away. How long had I craved exactly that? A place to set down the weight of constant self-monitoring, of excellence, of adult responsibility.

"What about rules?" I asked, forcing myself to look back at him. "Isn't that part of it?"

Thor nodded. "Can be. But they'd be ones we agree on together. Meant to make you feel safe, not restricted." He paused. "Maybe check-ins about self-care. Gentle reminders about limits. Safety boundaries during Little space. Whatever helps you feel secure and cared for. I do enjoy discipline, too.”"

I swallowed hard. "My parents always taught me self-reliance was everything. Don't need anyone, don't show weakness."

"Sounds lonely," Thor observed. His voice held no judgment, just understanding.

I laughed, but it came out hollow. "It is. But it's also safe. No one can hurt you if you don't give them the power to."

"That door swings both ways, though," Thor said. "No one can really love you either, if you never let them see all of you."

The simple truth of his words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at him, suddenly seeing beyond the intimidating exterior to the emotional intelligence beneath.

"What if—" I started, then stopped, gathering courage. "What if someone used it against me? My Little side, I mean. Used it to manipulate me or . . . or exposed it to hurt me?"

It was my biggest fear, that someone at my work discovered I was a Little.

Thor's expression darkened, a flicker of that dangerous man I'd glimpsed before passing over his face. "Anyone who'd do that would answer to me," he said, his voice a low growl. "And they wouldn't get a second chance."

He shifted suddenly, moving from his side of the couch to sit beside me. The leather creaked under his weight. Not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Listen to me, Mandy." His eyes held mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "I would never let anyone hurt you—either side of you. That's a promise. It’s the most important responsibility a caregiver has."

His massive frame made me feel both small and protected, a contradiction that sent a shiver of pleasure through me. This close, I could smell him—leather and motor oil beneath soap and coffee. Masculine and comforting at once.

Thor reached out, his rough fingertips gently tucking a strand of copper hair behind my ear. The casual touch sent electricity racing across my skin.

"Your Little side isn't a weakness," he continued, his voice softer now. "It's part of who you are. And who you are is..." He trailed off, searching for words.

"Is what?" I prompted, barely breathing.

"Fucking amazing," he finished simply. "Smart, strong, beautiful. And brave as hell for trusting me with this."

Our eyes locked, and I felt something shift between us—like tectonic plates realigning, changing the landscape forever. I leaned toward him unconsciously.

Thor's gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. His hand, still near my face, slid to cup my cheek. His palm was warm and calloused, surprisingly gentle for hands that could do so much damage.

I could see the golden stubble on his jaw, count the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, smell the coffee on his breath. Everything about him felt hyper-real, as if my senses had been dialed up.

We both leaned closer, drawn by an invisible force that had been pulling us together since the first day I'd walked into the garage with the club's books.

The harsh ring of Thor's phone shattered the moment. We both jumped. Thor's expression shifted to annoyance as he reached for his pocket.

He glanced at the screen and frowned. "Club business," he muttered.

I pulled back slightly, reality crashing back. Of course. He had responsibilities, a life beyond this room, beyond me. The Heavy Kings came first—they had to. I understood that intellectually, even as disappointment washed through me.

To my surprise, Thor hit a button to silence the phone and set it face-down on the coffee table.

"Later," he said firmly, turning his attention back to me.

"You don't need to take that?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. I'd seen how the club operated—calls were answered immediately, business handled with urgency.

Thor shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait an hour. Or two. This conversation is more important."

Thor was choosing me over immediate club business. I could hardly believe it.

"Where were we?" he asked, his voice rough with something I desperately wanted to explore further.

"You were telling me how amazing I am," I said, attempting lightness despite the heaviness in my chest.

Thor's mouth quirked up at one corner. "That's right. And I was about to show you just how much I meant it."

His phone buzzed against the wood of the coffee table—a text this time. We both ignored it, suspended in the bubble we'd created. But I could see the tension in Thor's shoulders, the way his awareness had split between me and his responsibilities.

"It's okay," I said softly. "We have time, right?"

Thor's expression softened. "Yeah, we do." He reached out again, this time taking my hand in his. His thumb traced gentle patterns across my knuckles. "But don't think for a second that I'm not serious about this—about us."

The way he said "us"—like it was already decided, already real—made my heart stutter. I wasn't used to certainty, to someone who knew what they wanted and didn't play games.

"I'm serious too," I admitted, vulnerability making my voice unsteady. "Terrified, but serious. Seriously terrified." Another nervous laugh.

Thor's hand tightened around mine. "Nothing to be afraid of. We'll figure it out together."

"So where would the boundaries be?" I asked. "Between work-me and... the other side of me."

"That'd be up to you, mostly. I'm flexible."

"But you must have thoughts," I pressed. "Preferences."

"When you're in work mode, I respect that completely," he said finally. "Your career matters to you. I'd never undermine that."

I nodded, relieved. "And when I'm . . . when I need time in Little space?"

A small smile softened his face. "Then I can help create that safety. Whatever you need—whether it's coloring together, watching cartoons, or just holding you while you decompress. No judgment, just care."

The casual way he mentioned activities that had been my most closely guarded secrets made my heart race. There was no mockery in his tone, no discomfort—just acceptance.

"And what about in between?" I asked. "I'm not always one or the other. Sometimes I'm just . . . me."

Thor came around the counter, sandwich-making abandoned, and sat on the stool next to mine. Our knees brushed, sending a jolt through me.

"That's the point, Mandy," he said, his voice low and earnest. "It's all you. Different facets of the same person. I don't want to put you in boxes. I want all of it—the fierce professional, the sweet Little, and every shade in between."

He spoke with such clarity, such certainty. As if he'd thought about this—about us—for a long time. I bit my lip unconsciously, absorbing his words. Thor's eyes tracked the movement, darkening visibly. The air between us seemed to thicken.

"Mandy," he said, my name sounding different in his mouth now—rough around the edges, hungry.

"Yes?" I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

Thor's large hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. The touch was feather-light but set my nerve endings on fire.

"I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you in Duke’s office," he admitted, his voice dropping to that register that made my insides melt.

His face was closer now, though I couldn't remember either of us moving. I could see the individual flecks of darker blue in his eyes, the tiny scar above his right eyebrow, the way his beard couldn't quite hide the softness of his mouth.

"I want you,” he breathed.

“I want you, too,” I replied, unable to resist.

The first touch of his lips against mine was gentle—tentative even, as if he feared I might break. His beard tickled my skin, a sensation so real and grounding that it made me gasp. Thor took advantage, deepening the kiss with a groan that seemed to start somewhere deep in his chest.

His hands framed my face like I was something precious, something to be cherished. Mine found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle there, anchoring myself as the world tilted on its axis.

The tentative exploration quickly gave way to hunger. Years of longing—his for me, mine for understanding—poured out between us. His tongue swept against mine, claiming, exploring. I pressed against his broad chest, wanting closer, needing more.

Thor's hands slid from my face to my hair, tangling in the reddish strands, cradling the back of my head. The gentle tug sent shocks of pleasure down my spine. I made a small, needy sound against his mouth that seemed to break something loose in him.

In one smooth motion, he lifted me from my stool and set me on the counter, stepping between my legs. The new position put us at eye level, his broad frame caged between my thighs. His hands found my waist, spanning it easily, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the thin t-shirt.

"Christ, Mandy," he breathed against my lips. "You have no idea how much I need this."

I pulled back just enough to see his face. His pupils were blown wide, the blue of his eyes reduced to a thin ring. His cheeks were flushed beneath his beard, his breathing ragged. I'd done that to him—me, with my spreadsheets and secret coloring books.

"Show me," I challenged, surprising myself with my boldness.

Thor's answering smile was predatory in a way that should have frightened me but instead sent heat pooling low in my belly. He leaned in again, this time trailing his lips along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I shivered as his beard scratched gently against my skin, contrasting with the softness of his lips.

"I've imagined how you'd taste," he murmured against my neck. "If your skin would be as soft as it looks." His teeth scraped lightly over my pulse point, drawing a gasp from me. "If you'd make those little sounds for me. I want to hear what my name sound like on your lips."