In the vernacular, men like Tristan were called Daddy Doms.
Tristan wasn’t sure he liked that term, but he was very much monogamous.
This ongoing sexting with QueenMod meant that if he pursued Colleen, he would be . . . cheating.
Not that he had any sort of an exclusivity agreement with either one of them.
And he was exchanging nothing but words and pictures with QueenMod.
It seemed irrational not to pursue Colleen while they were traveling together, so he could begin to show her the world and determine if she would be amenable to seduction.
And yet, his heart believed that he should remain faithful to a woman he fully intended never to see again.
And yet more yet, Colleen was not in the same hotel room as Tristan because seducing a woman he had a business relationship with was unethical.
Which one?
Neither?
Both?
The uneasiness of that thought dismayed him.
And he didn’t even have Colleen. He’d walked with her on the beach once. They’d shared two meals and one hot beverage. She might even be seeing someone else. She’d been quite reticent to take a job that involved travel, even for a week.
He wasn’t even a hundred percent sure Colleen was into men.
Tristan messaged QueenMod, Good girl.
He paused and then added, Are you ready for bed?
Yes, sir, came her reply.
And what colour are your pyjamas tonight? The British spellings came naturally off his fingertips. He would’ve had to stop to remember the American ones if he’d wanted to use them.
White and lace, came her answer.
He groaned at the thought of ripping white lace panties off her thighs. Have you been a good girl today?
Yes, sir.
Did you start your new job today?
Yes, sir.
Did it go well? Do you like your job?
Yes, sir.
Are you lying down in your bed?
Yes, please.
Touch yourself. Over your panties.
He waited, imagining her fingertips touching white cotton and lace and remembering the sexy little hums that she’d made at first.
Now inside your panties. Small circles. Softly.
