Page 3 of Daddy’s Rules

“You can tell me,” I said.

“First, you’ve gotta make sure to tell me you’re not gonna treat me any differently,” he said, raising his brow. “Promise?”

I held out a pinky finger. “Promise,” I said, and as he hooked his pinky around mine, I felt a throb in my jeans and an extra tight clench to my ass. “Can’t break these.” Not now my ass had given its clench of approval.

“So I’ve heard,” he whispered. “Well, at twenty-five, so ten years ago, I sold a tech startup, which was worth a lot. I won’t say how much, but I got a piece of it. And now I invest in other businesses, not controlling shares, but enough to see new innovations succeed or fail.”

Standing suddenly, my knee knocked the table. I didn’t know what I was hearing, but he was either actually really wealthy or he was fucking around with me. Growing up, I’d fought for everything. I was a middle child in a poor family, so I slipped through as many cracks as would appear in front of me, and every night I dreamed of what I’d do with just one million dollars. Real or fake, I couldn’t look at Max right now.

He took my hand. I stayed standing, head turned away, looking out at the floor as it filled with more guys in their groupings like some fancy soiree, the type I saw all the first-year lawyers attend when they were hired. It felt like I was staring ahead at my future, and when Max’s touch slipped away, giving me the full ability to leave, I couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You promised not to treat me differently.”

“I’m—” I turned and saw him, crouch standing, as if ready to race after me. “Is this something you do?” I asked, shaking my head at him. “Look for the lonely guy, clearly broke because he’s only here for the free night, buy him a drink, take him on a tour, book a room, and show him that you can make it real thick with a pump?” My lip curled into a snarl.

He laughed. “No.” It was plain. “I never approach anyone. I come here, sit somewhere quiet, watch, and leave after a couple of vodka sodas. Sure, in the past, if someone caught my eye, I might have given them my number, but most people don’t have what it takes to follow the rules and learn what I have to teach.”

“Rules?”

He had my attention, lowering himself down into the seat. “Of pleasure. Of shared pleasure. Of all the things this place can give.”

“And—and what does that usually mean?”

“Listen, I know I can buy whatever I want, and people want me to buy them.” He gulped hard. “It’s a vile thought, and my friends are always telling me never to talk about money, or my job, or anything I do. But I follow my own rule. Always be honest first. No matter if it hurts. And as for pleasure, I’d rather not get into it unless we go there.”

“Okay, well, if you’re honest, what did you think of me when you saw me?”

He shrugged. “I told you at the bar. I thought you looked lost, and lonely. Out of your depth, maybe. Still now, I think so. But I see it in your eyes, you come alive when you’re comfortable. In a private room, in a corner booth, you look less like a deer in headlights.” He tapped his fingertips across the table. “Your turn to be honest. What did you come here for?”

I sat, if only for the daiquiri. “My best friend was supposed to come with me,” I said, picking one of the near-frozen candies sticking to the glass. “He cancelled last minute, but I’ve had a hellish week at work, and I—I wanted to get laid. There. Honesty.” I popped the candy in my mouth, hard, and chewed, giving myself a reason not to say anything else.

“You know what the Playhouse is, right?” he asked, nodding. “This is just the bar, a place to break the ice before going up to the playrooms, and there are a lot of them. So, what type of play do you like?” There was a quiet moment as he stared at me, waiting for me to finish the candy.

I gulped hard. “It’s a no kink-shaming zone, right?”

He laughed. “If people shame anyone here, they get removed, unless of course, it’s—you know, illegal, non-consensual, against the rules, et cetera.”

“Okay, well, mine is very consensual,” I said. “I’m into age play, which is—”

Max smirked, his hand on mine as I’d placed it on the table. “I know what it is,” he said. “But you don’t look like you came prepared for it.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “In all honesty, I was hoping to find someone, get laid, and treat it like a reset before I had to be back at work on Monday.”

I think the honesty was working. “Vanilla is fun,” he said. “I navigate a more dominant role. I’ve been a Daddy before, and if you’re feeling this, then I’d love to share that with you, maybe let you in on more of my rules.”

“Yes,” I said, the word choked in my throat. “I don’t have anything with me, though. I usually have my teddy, he’s a lion named Lionel, and—I have onesies with ass hatches.”

He slipped his fingers under mine, now holding my hand. “I can’t give you Lionel, but I can give you a plush animal to play with, and a onesie to feel more comfortable in.”

“Really?” My fingers twitched, wrapping around his, now hooked around my palm.

“Of course,” he said. “I like to play with lost little lambs. Is that what you are?”

I nodded. “I was lost, but I think I might now be found.”

“You know, usually I don’t pick guys up like this, but I’ve had a great week. I want to celebrate, and you look like you need something to celebrate,” he said, and his words sent gummy worms tingling through my belly. I clenched a little. I’d only eaten a small bowl of ramen before leaving my apartment, and now the candies in my drink.

“What are you celebrating?” I asked.