Whatever Day said behind Jackson’s hand came with two middle fingers aimed directly at the woman. Jackson couldn’t stop his laugh as the lady hurried towards the counter at the far end of the store. “Easy, killer. You’ve made your point. She’s gone.” He dropped his hand from Day’s lips.
“Fucking twat,” Day muttered before realizing the cashier and the woman both stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry,” Day tacked on almost as an afterthought, not sounding sorry at all.
Jackson pulled his AmEx card free and handed it to the cashier. “I’ve got her purchases.”
The girl shook her head vehemently, adjusting the baby on her hip. “No. I’ll just come back later. My husband is just being a jerk. He does this sometimes. He turns off the card to teach me a les…” She trailed off. “Sorry, you don’t care about any of this.”
Jackson nodded to the cashier who rang up the girl’s purchases and then theirs, ignoring her protests before handing back the card and the receipt. Before the girl left, Jackson handed her his business card. “I do care. If you need help, call the number on the card. It’s my cell phone. I always have it on me.”
She gawked at him for a minute before nodding and hurrying from the store with her purchases. Jackson took the bags, but Day took his bakery bag back, like he was guarding it from Jackson as if it was a surprise. Day was mercurial to say the least and Jackson couldn’t get enough.
“Come on, crazy. Let’s get you out of here before you get arrested for beating up an old lady,” Jackson said.
“Wow, you’re, like, a knight in shining armor,” Day said with a smirk as they walked through the parking lot.
“Yeah, and you’re like a rabid poodle,” Jackson said, nodding towards his car.
“A rabid poodle?”
“Yeah, all frills and bows on the outside, but snarling and vicious deep down.”
“Sorry, but I refuse to be somebody I’m not.”
“Did I ask you to?” Jackson asked, enjoying how easy it was to rile Day up.
“You just called me a rabid poodle.”
Jackson grinned. “Yeah, but I’m a dog person.”
Day stayed silent most of the way to Jackson’s place. He had no idea why he’d agreed to this farce of a security detail because he’d wanted to jump Jackson the moment he’d seen him and let him do things to him he’d never even considered letting anybody else do. The worst part? It seemed like Jackson was definitely down to fuck. Or whatever might be fuck adjacent. At least, until after he sold his virginity. All these wannabe Daddies all thought they had a shot at being the one who fucked him for the first time, as if being the first one to stick their dick in him was some kind of fucking prize. But Day was the one who’d made it a prize.
Day slid his gaze to Jackson, who looked so relaxed as he drove. His one hand draped over the wheel and the other draped over the center console. Day found himself wondering what it would feel like to just ride in the car, hands clasped together like a couple. Jackson seemed so calm. Day’s outburst hadn’t raised so much as an eyebrow from him, and he’d even said he’d liked it. Day had never been part of a real couple. He didn’t really think love was a real thing, at least, not for somebody like him. There was too much wrong with him.
It sucked, too. Day had never met anybody like Jackson. He exuded this calm that made Day want to curl up against him, like a cat finding a warm spot in the sun. Jackson had this innate confidence. He was tall and large and sexy, and he unapologetically took up space. Day bet he’d never been embarrassed a single day in his life.
He sighed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck Jackson or be Jackson.
Jackson looked over, catching Day staring at him like an idiot. He could already feel his cheeks pinking when Jackson flashed those perfect white teeth in a wicked smile, his eyes hidden behind his Cartier sunglasses. Nope. No. Day was sure. He wanted to fuck Jackson. But worse than that, he wanted to call Jackson Daddy, wanted to snuggle on the couch with him, wanted to know each other’s coffee orders.
Day didn’t even return Jackson’s smile, just snapped his gaze to stare out the window, his heart beating out of his chest as he did his best to hold back the panic attack trying to claw its way up his throat. What the fuck was wrong with him? The whole Daddy thing was a gimmick. A way for Day to work his baby face and pouty lips for the older guys who didn’t know a thing about actual BDSM. Not that Day really did, either. Not in reality. He’d looked on fetish sites, like Fetlife, once, but had panicked when he’d seen how many guys had aggressively messaged him to tell him in detail to sit, stay, or obey as if they had a right, making him feel less like a sub and more like a dog.
Jackson definitely looked like a man who was used to being in charge, not because he wanted to be but because people seemed to naturally turn to him for guidance. Maybe it was his military training. Day couldn’t miss the Special Forces tattoo on his forearm. But just because somebody liked being in charge didn’t mean they wanted to Dom a stranger. Although, when Day had baited him with Daddy, Jackson had responded in kind. So…maybe?
What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d known the man less than a day. This was why Day stayed home. Why he rarely went out or tried to date. He was permanently broken in every way. Too much work for little reward. A dark shadow fell over his mood, chasing away the butterflies Jackson had put in his belly.
Jackson pulled into a parking garage in front of a sky-high building made of chrome, glass, and steel, parking in a spot marked 25. He then walked around to Day’s side and opened the door, once more extending a hand to help him up. Part of Day wanted to refuse and be the bitch he’d always been. Better to pull the tape off quickly, let Jackson know that he talked a good game but was, deep down, a big bag of crazy. When Day hesitated, Jackson gently took his hand and tugged him from the seat before grabbing the bags and leading him to the elevator. Day immediately felt uncomfortable in the mirrored box, meeting Jackson’s curious gaze as the floor numbers ticked off above the doors.
Jackson placed his hand at the small of Day’s back again, guiding him to the last apartment at the end of the hall, pressing numbers on a keypad before using a key to turn what sounded like a heavy tumbler. Jackson pushed the door open and stood aside to let Day in. He stopped short just inside, scanning the enormous apartment. It was ultra-modern with glass windows that spanned two-stories, a living room filled with mid-century modern furnishings, a large kitchen with dark wood cabinets and fancy appliances, and a floating staircase that led to a second story with three doors. Day could only assume those led to the bedrooms.
“Jimmy dropped off your things. I had the valet set them in your room. We’re in for the rest of the day if you want to get more comfortable. I can find something for us to watch and put the food out?”
Day looked down at what he was wearing. Did Jackson not like what he was wearing? Was he trying to subtly tell him this was a Netflix and chill thing? Day was not fit to be among normal humans. It occurred to him then that maybe this would be the perfect way to let Jackson know that everything he saw was just a costume. No…armor. It wasn’t that he didn’t like wearing feminine clothing or makeup, but it was also a lot of work. He didn’t always look that way. Maybe Jackson needed to see Day as he was on a normal day before he started the process of getting ready for camming.
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be down in a few.”
“Your room is the one on the right. You have your own bathroom.”
Day didn’t even speak, just bolted up the stairs like he was being chased. Jackson was right. His meager belongings were sitting in two bags on his king-size bed. The room was huge but sparse with an empty closet open against the far wall and a door he assumed led to the bathroom. He pulled a pair of black joggers free and a thread white t-shirt he’d had since middle school. It really showed off just how slim his frame was. Jackson could definitely do so much better. Once he’d put on his ratty attire, he went to the bathroom and removed his contacts, replacing them with his large black framed glasses. At the last minute, he added his knee length athletic socks and blue furry bunny slippers. There was no way Jackson would find him attractive in this attire, and part of Day died at the notion. He held his breath for a moment, puffing out his cheeks before letting the air leak out. It was no good wishing for things that weren’t for somebody like him. This wasn’t Day’s first crush. It wouldn’t be his last. With that final depressing thought, he skipped down the stairs, stopping short when he saw that Jackson had changed into basketball shorts and a tank-top with the sides cut.
