Page 83 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

“Not Wolfy-Daddy big Os.” She shakes her head, curls bouncing under the adorable blue beret she’s popped on top of them. “But sooo good.”

On Emmy’s far side, safely sandwiched between Brenna and Fleur, True exclaims over her own hot roast beef sandwich. She’s gotten hers with crispy onions and her cheeks bulge like a chipmunk’s as she chews her mouthful of beef and onions. Nothing wrong with the kid’s appetite. Either she’s naturally small and skinny like Emmy or she just hasn’t been getting enough food.

If it’s the latter, I’m pretty sure this group is going to ensure that changes.

Our progression to and through the museum is slow with a group this large but it’s marked by excited chatter and laughter. Such a contrast from Blunts, where most large scenes and gatherings are quiet except for moans, groans, and the slap of flesh. Although many things about kink are serious, I wonder if the club hasn’t lost the sense of fun, of play, that’s the heart of kink. Maybe the Nursery opening will bring laughter back to the club’s halls and dungeons.

I’m not the only one enjoying the group’s exuberance, I discover, as we linger in the Hall of Gems. Matty and Faolan, who are some combination of geologist and archeologist that I didn’t quite understand when it was explained to me during our outing to the corn maze, are holding forth on why some of the sapphires on display have stars in them and some don’t. “Oohs” and “ahhs” rise from the excited littles and teenager. Even Livvy is gummily cooing at the gems as Emmy holds her up to the glass.

A tall blond man stops near me, watching the group, his eyes lingering on the black-haired little, Saoirse. He looks vaguely familiar but I can’t remember if he’s been to playgroup or if we’ve met at an outing.

“It’s good to see them enjoying themselves,” he says.

I nod. “The laughter of littles is a balm to the soul.”

His green eyes flick to mine.

“Well said.” He holds out his hand. “Sutter James. I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet. You’re Logan, Emmy’s Daddy, right?”

“Yes, good to meet you, Sutter. Your face is familiar. Have you been to playgroup?”

“Mmm-hmm. I think we missed you that week. But we have another connection. You voted me in at Blunts last week.”

It takes me a minute and then I place his face: on a picture attached to an application I barely read. There were four applications voted on during the meeting but I gave them cursory attention, consumed by the vote on Mac. “I remember. You came to Blunts on a recommendation from a club in England, right? Winter’s Sin?”

The man gives me a megawatt smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes and for no reason I can name, it reminds me of De Leon, even though Sutter maintains eye-contact in a way Myles avoids.

“Winter’s Sin is my family’s line of clubs. My aunt runs it. She’s friends with Chess.”

“Ah,” I say, noncommittally. I know, of course, that there’s a lot of “good old boy” networking at Blunts. It’s a little surprising Chess would welcome someone who’s basically playing for the other team, even if that team’s across the Atlantic. There certainly wasn’t any mention of it when Sutter’s application was voted on. It was barely debated at all. “Did you put on your application that you’re in a caregiver relationship?”

“No.” A dangerous gleam lights his eyes. “Was I supposed to?”

I scratch the back of my neck. These are choppy waters. As a committee member, if I find out that someone’s withheld information from the club, I’m supposed to bring it to the committee. But on the other hand, I’m happy to have another daddy at Blunts.

“Did you check age-play and DD/lg on the kink list?” I ask, referring to part of the membership application.

He nods.

How the fuck could Ten and his cabal have missed that? Were they as wrapped up in Mac’s application as I was?

“No issue, then,” I say, pleased at getting one by Ten and his pack of assholes. “Are you coming to the Nursery’s grand opening?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. We’ve played in there the last two nights. I’ve already ordered an adult cradle for home, my little darlin’ loves the one at Blunts so much. The Nursery’s awesome. I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere. I heard you and your little designed it?”

“With a lot of help from Brenna,” I nod at the blue-haired submissive, who has her arm draped over True’s shoulders as they exclaim over gemstones bigger than their fists.

“Get ready for a stream of requests to design nurseries at other clubs. I predict word of Blunts’ Nursery will spread through the kinky world like a shot.”

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Emmy and Bren make a great team. I can see them designing a nursery here and there once they’ve finished the book they’re collaborating on. Something to while away the short days and long nights as winter settles in.

I shrug. “We’d be open to that. Designing the Nursery was a lot of fun. I’m glad to welcome another caregiver to the club. We’re a bit of a rare breed.”

“I’ve heard,” Sutter says. He nods at his submissive. “My baby girl used to work at Blunts. She never explored her little side there because the members condemned age-play. I put my application in expecting to have to knock some heads together but I see the revolution’s already underway.”

I chuckle. “Yes, it is.”

Sutter’s eyes wander away from mine, over the group of caregivers and littles. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you have a few more applications after the Grand Opening, either.”

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