Page 14 of R for Rough

He squinted a little, as if he was seeing the map in his head. “That’s long enough for me to offer you a ride.” He nodded at his truck. “Let’s go.”

Wow, really?

Um, okay!

Shit, I had not seen that coming.

I hurried after him, and it was crazy how quickly my heartbeat suddenly drummed faster.

Now I was going to get maybe three minutes of alone time with Griffin Lawson in the confines of his truck.

Holy crap.

I climbed in next to him, and he reminded me to put on the seat belt. Such a Daddy reminder! Right? Wasn’t it?

“I have a question of my own, if you don’t mind.” He backed out of the parking spot and fastened his own seat belt.

“I don’t mind at all, Sir.”

That one earned me a barely there reaction. I was sure it was the use of Sir.

“How do you unite or separate the primal masochist and the Little?”

Oh. Hmm. Good question.

“To be honest, I don’t feel my littleisms, if you know what I mean, around others,” I answered. “Like in the community, when we meet up—when I see Abel and the others. I guess the masochistic grown-up in me is in charge there.”

He nodded slowly and turned onto the next street.

“It could be because I’m single and haven’t met the right Daddy,” I went on. “Mister Madigan triggered a few of those reactions after he beat me once, and he and Abel invited me to sleep in their guest room. Mister Madigan wanted to keep an eye on me.”

Griffin nodded once again. “As he should’ve.”

“But I don’t mind my personal Little time either,” I felt the need to add. I yawned too. “Every night when I get home from work, I turn my couch into a cuddle fort, and I fall asleep to a funny movie. My Deadpool PJs are waiting for me as we speak.”

His mouth twitched a little, and even though he kept his eyes on the dark cobblestone streets, I could tell I had all his attention.

“You don’t sleep in your bed?”

I shrugged and then shook my head. “Not really. My bedroom is tiny, and I don’t have space for a TV in there. I like falling asleep to sound. So…yeah.”

I couldn’t explain it, but sleeping alone on a couch was less lonely than sleeping alone in a bed.

Dammit, we were almost on my street.

Griffin cleared his throat. “Have you identified as a Little for long?”

I had no exact answer for that one. “I read about Daddies and Littles when I was, like, eighteen or nineteen, and I’ve been drawn to that lifestyle ever since. But I guess I didn’t find my comfort as a Little until…I don’t know, two years ago? Something like that. But it sort of happened bit by bit. I didn’t hear about it being a spectrum until later, so I struggled to find my sweet spot first. I had some friends who were Littles, and they didn’t act like me.” Though, to be honest, they didn’t act like one another either. Everyone was different. Some changed their vocabulary, some regressed, some felt it was purely mental. “I sorta stopped defining it. I’m comfortable with the title of Little, but I still have traits some Tops have assumed made me a Middle.”

“Such as?”

Oh yeah. “Well, one guy told me I curse too much to be a Little, and another said my favorite movies—Deadpool—weren’t fit for a Little’s ears.”

“In other words, they were idiots.”

“That’s what I said!” I beamed. “Then I went home and put way too much whipped cream in my cocoa. Sometimes I put chocolate sprinkles in there too, cuz that’s delicious like you wouldn’t believe.”

He actually smiled to himself!

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