Page 14 of Seth’s Doll

She switches gears. “Let me ask you this. And don’t go wigging out. It’s important. Okay?”

I take a deep breath, let it out, and make a valiant effort to stay clearheaded when I tell her to go for it.

“What happens during your scene, after you freeze and don’t follow Seven’s command?”

Instantly, I feel heat creeping up my neck, but instead of allowing my mind to follow its course up the rest of my face, I bulldoze through to answer her quickly, “He recognizes it immediately, stops our scene, and wraps me up for aftercare to let me know I’m not in trouble and he’s not mad at me.”

She doesn’t respond for a moment, and I check my phone to make sure our call didn’t disconnect.

“You there?” I finally ask.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and I’m surprised by the emotion in my badass friend’s voice. “I’m just so fucking proud of you right now, Twy. You did it.”

I feel tears try to climb up my throat and tingle my nose at her response, but I laugh to keep them down. “My face is super-hot right now,” I admit.

“But you answered me, woman! You didn’t let that anxiety steal your voice.” After a few seconds—in which she forces me to do a happy dance with her over the phone—she says, “Okay, so that’s an excellent Dom. As we all know Seven is. It’s a Dominant’s job to recognize when their submissive has reached a limit but is, for whatever reason, unable to call their safe word. And whether that safe word is called or not, if a limit is reached, it’s their job to either pause or completely end the scene, without any repercussions for the sub. So, just to clarify, he’s always completely ended the scene? He’s never attempted to pause and assess, then continue on with it? Like he would if you called ‘yellow’ instead of ‘red’?”

I nod again. “Right.”

“Hm.” She’s quiet while she deliberates. “Sooo… okay. I think I’m having a thought.”

I bark out a laugh, and it must be loud, because Seth glances over at me with a small smile on his face, telling me he heard it even from outside of my car. I snort and cover my mouth when Luna throws the ball at him and nails him right in the crotch. The ball is hollow plastic and way lighter than a normal basketball, but she really chucked it at him, and he falls to his knees in the grass, covering the front of his pants. My face falls right along with him, and I almost end the call and run to check on him. But just as Luna reaches him, she lets out a shriek when he lunges upward and grabs her, pulling her down on top of his belly and tickling the hell out of her.

“What’s your thought?” I ask Clarice, hurrying her along now, because I really want to join my little family in all their fun.

“Right. Here’s what you do,” she tells me.

And hearing her out, knowing she’s a part-time Dominant herself, I believe her plan will work brilliantly.

As long as I don’t mess it up.

CHAPTER 9

Seth

My birthday so far has been one for the books. It started out as a fun-filled morning and afternoon with my girls, exploring the science museum we hadn’t been to since before Luna was born. Watching her absorb all the exhibits with looks of fascination and wonder was worth every second of the two-hour drive each way. Now, we’re finishing up dinner at Doc’s house, where Astrid served the entire crew one of the best home-cooked meals I’ve ever had.

Even if I’m a meat-eater, and the food was all plant-based.

She made a point to tell my wife each dish’s list of naturally grown ingredients every time Twyla or I remarked on how delicious it was, razzing my woman about her undying love for fast food. Well, until Doc shut her down with a laser-focused glance that went from her eyes, to her throat, then back to her eyes. Her little gulp was adorable and so similar to a reaction my wife often has that it makes it obvious the two women are siblings, even while they don’t look very much alike.

At the head of the table is Doc in his usual spot, Astrid to his right, with Luna between her and Twyla, since our daughter is obsessed with her aunt. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the fact that Astrid is a professional makeup artist, and they play dress-up every day she’s here when Twyla and I are both at work. We would’ve hired a nanny or at least found a way to split our schedules so she could be with one of her parents at all times, but Astrid put her foot down the very first time she heard what we were considering for childcare. She had finished cosmetology school, now sets her own hours as a makeup artist, and was home “with no one but Scout-boy to keep me company while Neil is at work,” so she assigned herself the job of being her niece’s nanny.

I’m at the other head of the table—or maybe the ass, unless a table is considered double-headed, like a dildo—as the birthday boy, and to my right is Corbin, with Vi next to him. And finishing out the circle of who I consider my family are Clarice and Brian. At a small table off to the side are Corbin and Vi’s kiddos. We tried to get Luna to sit with them to eat, but she insisted she wanted to sit with her daddy for his birthday. Really, I think she just prefers to be around adults when given the choice. She’s a little sponge like I was at her age, scary-smart, just like both her parents, and although she loves to play with other children, when it comes to times when she’s not being active and has to sit still, it’s the big people she wants to sit with and listen to. Even when there are older kids she could hang out with, she’ll choose the adult table every time.

So up until now, conversation has been either PG or very coded—since she can already read, so the “spelling things out so she doesn’t know what we’re saying” phase didn’t last long. She’s on her last bite of cake though, so when she swallows, I call her name and tell her to come over to me.

When my little girl is by my side, I lean down and whisper in her ear, “All you kids are done eating now, baby. How about you go claim your spot on the couch for the movie they’re putting on?”

She leans around me to peek into the living room, and I look over my shoulder to see what she sees.

Fuck my life.

“It’s okay, Daddy. Scout is saving it for me,” she says, spinning on her heel to no doubt go back to her seat at the table, but I catch her tiny hand and tug her back to me.

I want to be careful here, because there’s no way I want my child to think I don’t want her presence. I will never make my baby feel rejected, no matter how desperately I may desire adult-only time. I’m a certified genius. I can figure out a way to get what I want while making sure my little one knows she’s always wanted, important, and is not in trouble if Mommy and Daddy need alone time together, as in without her. It’s a little more difficult to strategize when we’re in a group, because “it’s not alone time, since everybody else is here too, Daddy.”

While her mama can put her foot down and tell her to go play just “because I said so,” there’s something inside me that cannot for the life of me turn Luna away without giving her a reason that’s acceptable to her.

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