Page 4 of Lucky

The name she’d put him in her phone under, was at the top of the list. Swiping, she opened them, and a pit formed in her stomach.

You better have a good explanation for not answering my texts, Little Rabbit. I’m worried about you.

She looked from her phone into the disappointing eyes of the man in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“If you were my Little Girl, you’d be standing there with a warmed bottom to help remind you to always keep your phone on. Turning it to vibrate or silence while working is fine but turning it off or on Airplane mode is unacceptable. What if there’s an emergency with one of your children and someone needs to contact you? I know they are adults now but?—”

“Emergencies still happen,” she finished his sentence.

He laid his large hand over her trembling smaller one. “They do.”

“Guess it's a good thing I’m not your Little then,” she said.

“Is it? Is it a good thing?” he asked, squeezing her hand. In that brief contact, an unspoken dialogue passed between them. It was an acknowledgment of the electricity that crackled through the air, charged with the possibility of what lay beyond the confines of her coffee shop. And for a moment, Trinity allowed herself to imagine the surrender, the sweet release of her Little self under the care of a Daddy Dom as formidable and protective as Lucky.

Trinity swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against the delicate skin of her throat. She was acutely aware of every rugged detail that made up the man before her. Would he be the Daddy she needed? They’d danced around the topic for a while now.

Lucky leaned in, closing the distance between authority and curiosity. His presence loomed large. “Don’t you think it’s time? Time to explore each other outside of two hours once a month? To stop playing games and take the next step? Allow me to become your Daddy Dom, Little Rabbit. You and I both know you are mine.”

Her breath hitched, caught in the sudden tightness of her chest. That term—Daddy Dom—spoken out loud, tugged at something within her, a secret chamber of her heart that fluttered with the allure of submission and care. Trinity’s cheeks warmed with the rush of blood. Her body instinctively leaned into the magnetic pull of his question.

“Lucky…” she managed to say, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucky's gaze held hers, deep and unwavering. In those dark pools, Trinity saw a promise—a journey of awakening that beckoned her to step into the unknown, to trust the pull that drew her toward this man and the secrets he offered to unveil.“When I couldn’t get a hold of you last night, I almost drove over to your place.”

“You know where I live?”

“It’s a small town, Little Rabbit. Of course I know where you live. How could I protect you if I didn’t?”

Instinctively, she took a step back, her butt hitting the counter behind her. “I’ve never had a real-life Daddy; I’ve only roleplayed at The Citadel,” she confessed.

“Never is just a starting point,” Lucky said, his voice thick with a promise of discovery. “Let me show you. I’ll be both your first and your last Daddy.”

Her heart pounded a fierce tattoo against her ribcage, echoing the unspoken yearning that swelled within her. In the charged silence of Day & Night, amidst the lingering scent of coffee and anticipation, Trinity realized she stood on the precipice of a world where daylight met darkness, and restraint spelled freedom. She found herself nodding, the admission whispering from her like the steam rising from the latte she'd just crafted. “I've always felt... drawn to it,” she confessed, her voice a soft tremor in the quiet of the shop. “But I never explored it without the safety of a club.”

The intensity in Lucky's eyes shifted, darkened with something that sent another kind of warmth flooding through her. He leaned his tattooed forearms on the counter, the leather of his cut creaking subtly—a sound that spoke of open roads and whispered promises.

“Exploration requires a trustworthy guide,” Lucky intoned, his words deliberate. “Someone who knows the path... someone who can lead you through it safely.”

The suggestion hung in the air, a palpable entity, and Trinity felt the weight of his offer settle into her bones. It was as if he'd thrown down a gauntlet—not a challenge, but an opportunity. It was an invitation. Part of her felt like the answer was alreadyspoken. He’d claimed her and was patiently waiting for her acceptance of the inevitable.

Lucky straightened up, extending his hand to her. She stepped forward and placed her own within it, smaller and trembling slightly, and he pulled her gently from behind the protective barrier of the counter. His grasp was firm but gentle, guiding her through the maze of tables toward a tucked-away small office, where she did the books and took her breaks.

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

“What if someone comes in?” She asked.

“You don’t open for another hour,” he reminded her gently. “When we do this, when you become my Little, there are a few things you need to know. A DDLG relationship—it's about trust, consent, and mutual satisfaction.” He paused, ensuring her full attention. “Here is what I can offer you. I’ll be your caregiver, your protector. I’ll provide structure, set limits, and administer discipline when necessary. But above all, I’ll cherish you, putting your needs at the forefront of everything I do.”

Trinity's pulse quickened as Lucky spoke, his explanation painting pictures in her mind of care and control, of strength wrapped in nurturing guidance. She listened, every word etching deeper into her consciousness, awakening a part of her she'd kept hidden—the part that yearned for someone to understand her deepest desires, to take her hand and lead her into a world where she could be both strong and yielding, independent yet cared for.

“And as my Little,” he continued, “you are allowed to be vulnerable, to explore your innermost self without judgment. You’ll trust your Daddy to guide you, to help you grow and find pleasure in surrendering control.”

As Lucky outlined the relationship he wanted, Trinity felt the edges of her reality blur.

“There’s freedom in it, Little Rabbit,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “The freedom that comes with letting go, with trusting someone to take the reins.”

Her body tensed, an electric thrill shooting through her at the mention of the nickname he’d given her. At The Citadel for playdates, Trinity wore soft pink zip up jammies with a bunny rabbit hoodie and rabbit slippers. The first time he knelt beside her, reaching for her hand, he’d called her Little Rabbit and it’d stuck. His words conjured images of herself, small and cherished, held within the encompassing shelter of his strength.

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