Page 41 of Nicky

The next search was harder to type: “Why are people into Daddy kink?”

The first article laid it out plainly: “For many, this dynamic is about feeling seen and cared for in ways that may have been missing earlier in life. It’s not a replacement for parenting—it’s an emotional shorthand for deep intimacy and trust.”

I exhaled slowly. Emotional shorthand. Those words stuck with me. Was that what Markus wanted? And why, against all logic, did I suddenly want to give it to him?

Half an hour later, I was knee-deep in forum threads.

One user wrote: “My Daddy is more than my Dom. He’s my home. He knows when I’m overwhelmed before I even say it out loud. He makes me feel safe enough to let my guard down—and that’s everything.”

Another added: “To me, being a boy means I feel small in a way that’s freeing. I don’t have to carry the weight of the world by myself anymore.”

My throat tightened. Those words pulled at something I’d buried so far down I wasn’t sure I wanted to face it.

The last link I clicked was a blog. The banner at the top read:Exploring the Daddy/Boy Dynamic: A Beginner’s Guide.

The first section was lighthearted—definitions, common misconceptions, tips for healthy boundaries. But halfway down, a bolded question made me pause: How do you know if this dynamic is for you?

The checklist beneath it was uncomfortably direct:

Do you feel drawn to relationships where one partner takes on a caregiving role?

Do you crave the kind of intimacy that feels like a safety net?

Does the idea of being “looked after” make you uncomfortable—or does it secretly feel like something you’ve always wanted?

I swallowed hard. My palms were damp against my phone. The final line twisted the knife: “Sometimes, the things we resist most are the things we need most. Be honest with yourself. That’s the first step.”

I closed the browser, tossing my phone onto the couch like it had burned me. My chest was tight, my mind a mess of tangled thoughts.

This wasn’t what I’d thought it was. It went beyond sex or power or control. It was about something bigger, scarier. Something that reached into the cracks in my armor I didn’t want to admit were there.

The questions buzzed in my head long after the screen went dark. Could I let Markus see me like that? Could I even let myself?

The questions burned, unanswered, as I stared at the ceiling.

CHAPTER 20

Markus

My office was silent except for the hum of the heater. I pulled my phone from my pocket, thumb hovering over the screen before pressing Leah’s name. With the speakerphone on, I placed the phone on my desk and leaned back in my chair.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Markus! What’s this? A call from my elusive big brother?” Her teasing tone carried that signature sarcasm.

“Spare me the guilt trip,” I shot back, a smile tugging at my lips. “I’m on my lunch break.”

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